Shen Le gripped a piece of rotten wood-no, a repaired short wooden stick with one end once snapped off-and was overwhelmed with emotion.
Now, as he sank his consciousness into the stick and touched the vibrant green leaf amid the scorch marks at its tip, he suddenly understood where that touch of green had come from:
It was not metal generating water and water generating wood, the five elements nourishing one another; nor was it metal overcoming wood, a reversal of the five elements. It was the deepest underlying shade hidden in the hearts of China's ordinary people-
China's ordinary people were extraordinarily good at enduring hardship, extraordinarily good at bearing suffering.
You exploited them, squeezed them dry, forced them to sell their sons and daughters, forced them to leave their homes, and they merely bowed their heads and obeyed, making you think you could keep sucking the marrow from their bones.
But once that oppression reached its limit, their ultimate endurance would suddenly turn into ultimate violence-
There was not even a switching process, not the slightest smooth transition. These people, more docile than cattle and horses, would suddenly rise up: "We can't live like this anymore! Let's rebel!!!"
Then, once the wildfire had burned through everything, reducing the objects of their hatred-and often themselves as well-to ashes, a spring rain would sweep across the plains-
When that time came, they would bow their heads again and return to peaceful, quiet lives. Enduring hardship again, bearing suffering again, and-brimming with hope.
Hope had always been there.
Shen Le felt as though he had found a hint of the right path toward drawing away the golden light on the Dragon Palace Dharma Vessel and repairing it-
He clenched his fists hard, rummaged around, and took out that piece of spirit