Chapter 3: The Divine Sight

Fortunately, animals are animals after all. Their skeletal structure means that while they can imitate humans, they can't keep it up for long. After mimicking Shen Shi’s sitting posture for a while, the little creature must have gotten warm and soon sprawled back onto the ground.

As a Chinese rural dog with a penchant for imitation, once it tired of sitting like a person, it naturally turned its attention to something else—Shen Shi’s socks. It had seen Shen Shi use his socks to start the fire. Even a monster would be curious about socks that could make fire—what kind of magical artifact could this be?

So, its furry little head came close, just like all dogs do, and it inhaled the scent.

Curiosity can kill a cat, as the saying goes.

When are smelly socks at their worst? Not the moment you take them off, but when you roast them over a fire. If you don’t believe it, just try toasting your own socks over a stove. And Shen Shi had just come out of prison; the stench of his socks was beyond compare—three days worn one way, three days the other, nothing could match their odor. A dog can detect scents at concentrations a hundred million times lower than humans can.

So, the instant the little thing caught the scent from the sock, its bright, intelligent eyes froze over. It staggered as if drunk, collapsed to the ground, its plump belly heaving as it panted desperately.

“Gulu!” Seeing this, Shen Shi’s heart ached. He hurriedly scooped up the little creature.

Ever since it had started calling out “Gulu, gulu,” Shen Shi had grown fond of it. If it were to die from the stench of his socks, Shen Shi would feel guilty for the rest of his life. After a bout of gentle stroking, Gulu finally recovered.

Just then, a tempting aroma wafted from the bird eggs buried in the fire. Shen Shi quickly dug them out with a stick. The scent meant some eggs had already cracked; any longer and they’d be eating charcoal instead. Carefully peeling one, he blew away the bits of ash. Thankfully, it was only slightly yellowed, not burnt to a cinder.

As soon as Shen Shi peeled the egg, releasing that enticing smell, Gulu, who had been at death’s door just moments before, sprang up and swallowed the egg in one gulp. It gnawed hungrily, then spat it out again—the yolk was too hot—yet, unwilling to waste a morsel, stuffed it right back in.

“Damn it! That nearly scared me to death!” Shen Shi laughed, seeing the dog was fine. He picked up the sock from the ground, thought better of it, and tossed it far away.

A sock roasted over a fire is practically a chemical weapon. Even without the little one’s keen nose, Shen Shi didn’t have the courage to put it back on.

Seeing Gulu had recovered, Shen Shi peeled another egg, blowing on it as he ate.

Gulu’s beady eyes watched Shen Shi, full of envy. However, its front paws simply couldn’t match Shen Shi’s dexterity. After a few futile attempts to mimic him, it gave up and simply bit into the eggshell with its teeth.

Now, that’s what a real dog should do.

Shen Shi ate nine bird eggs in a row and let out a contented burp. Feeling around, he discovered only one egg remained. Without hesitation, he peeled it, popped it into his mouth, and chewed noisily.

Gulu was dumbfounded. To think that as a wild animal, it had lost to a domesticated human! A person can endure, but an animal cannot. Gulu leapt onto Shen Shi’s face, sticking out its pink tongue to lick the traces of yolk from his cheek, nuzzling affectionately against Shen Shi’s stiff beard, and then pointed its little paw toward the nearby bushes—clearly, it hadn’t had enough.

“Haha!” Shen Shi was quite pleased with himself. “Settle down, little one. I’ll read to you.”

After their meal, Shen Shi nibbled on wild fruits as he pulled out the book from his arms. Having grown up in the twenty-first century, he wasn’t used to sleeping so early.

He examined the book the old man—whether truly Zhuge Wolong or not—had given him. There was no name written on it. That was understandable. If the old man really was Zhuge Wolong, a fugitive from the authorities, he certainly wouldn’t sign his own name.

But even if it was written by Zhuge Wolong, what use was that? Just like the book he gave to Ning Caichen—it was merely a book written in his own hand.

And this one was a handwritten manuscript. Having been used to printed text, Shen Shi found it hard to read someone’s handwriting.

He glanced down and noticed the little creature sitting quietly in his lap, watching the book as if it were a child, so attentive and well-behaved. It made it hard for him to refuse.

He didn’t really like classical Chinese... Well, to say he didn’t like it was to flatter himself. Truthfully, for a person from the twenty-first century, reading ancient Chinese was a struggle—almost incomprehensible.

Though he couldn’t immediately grasp the meaning within the antiquated prose, Shen Shi wasn’t discouraged. With nothing else to do, he calmed his mind, patiently reading and pondering the text again and again. Instead of feeling bored, he found himself engaged.

The melding of two souls had strengthened both his resolve and his insight.

Read a text a hundred times, and its meaning will reveal itself.

No matter how profound or abstruse, with enough readings, one will always come to understand something.

Time slipped by unnoticed; the food in his stomach digested away, and a warm current seemed to rise from his belly, flowing into his eyes—until the characters began to glow...

First, the words floated off the page, swirling and transforming into mountains and rivers, flying straight into his eyes.

Shen Shi tried to avoid it, but everyone knows that such a moment is a rare fortune.

After all, as a modern soul, who wouldn’t be curious about supernatural abilities? Most people in their youth have dreamed of roaming the land with sword in hand—let alone facing a chance to become an immortal, free to wander the world.

Shen Shi was no different. He forced himself not to shrink away, even opening his eyes as wide as possible, afraid he might miss something.

The mountains and rivers surged closer, threatening to collide with him, but Shen Shi did not flinch.

His eyes were so wide it seemed the whole world could fit within them...

When Shen Shi came back to himself, those mountains and rivers had already merged into his eyes.

At that moment, his mind finally registered the information from his vision—the meaning of reading a text a hundred times: talent increased by one.

My eyes... can absorb talent?

This... can’t be possible!

As Shen Shi wondered, more words appeared before his eyes: “Diligent study gathers talent.”

Is this telling me to become a scholar?

Shen Shi was not a particularly studious man—neither of the two souls within him were. Before transmigrating, he had been a pseudo-soldier in the revolutionary ranks. The original Shen Shi hadn’t even passed the preliminary civil service exam, so one could imagine his lack of scholarly inclination.

Neither life had made him a devoted student—was he to become a model scholar in this one? And what was the use of this so-called talent, anyway?