Wu Bowen said, “What else? Like Buddha’s Western Pure Land: straight to another realm.”
Wu Paulo posed another doubt, “Then where is that other realm after ascension?”
Wu Bowen shrugged. “Who knows? We have never been. Probably another planet.”
Wu Paulo shook his head. “Modern astronomers studied it. Forget Earth: the whole solar system has no second habitable place. Nearest star four light-years away. Even if the ascended realm is there, say: they transcend tribulation on Earth, fly all the way. How many years?”
The two exchanged glances.
Unlike Wu Paulo, they had not crammed so much modern knowledge. They had no answer.
Wu Paulo said gravely, “Even at light speed post-ascension, it takes four years en route. Plus, some scientist’s relativity theory: no object exceeds light speed.”
Wu Bozhong blurted, “Scientists study ordinary folk. Ascended cultivators are surely different.”
Wu Paulo nodded. “Fair point. But tell me: if ascension exists, are ascended cultivators stronger, or Journey to the West’s Sun Wukong?”
Wu Bozhong answered without thought, “If Journey to the West is real, definitely Sun Wukong. He was immortal upon apprenticeship, later a Buddha: a god.”
Wu Paulo agreed. “Right. If Sun Wukong real, he is divine, above immortals.”
Then he shifted, adding, “But have you two considered: Sun Wukong’s somersault only 108,000 li. By old Hua li, about 60,000 km. Even one per second nonstop: roughly one-fifth light speed. Meaning a deified immortal like Sun Wukong, flipping ceaselessly, still needs twenty-odd years to cross. Earth ascendees barely rank among immortals, so weaker than divine Sun Wukong. Speed surely slower. The ascension journey might take centuries. Then tell me: centuries en route. Is that blessing or torment?”
The two buzzed in their heads from his words. Wu Bowen rubbed his temples. “Great senior brother, this is too far afield. All baseless speculation. Where to verify truth? Honestly, I never dreamed of ascension in this life. Like the Lord: one Evergreen Pill, live five hundred years well. I would be content. Who cares how far Sun Wukong’s somersault reaches?”
“True.” Wu Bozhong laughed. “Even the Lord dares not covet ascension. We should not fantasise. Great senior brother, you said it: no habitable spots near Earth. Maybe ascension is a hoax from start to end.”
He suddenly realised something, excited. “I reckon ascension tales, like Sun Monkey, all later fabrications! As for Dharma-ending Age: pure nonsense! Likely Earth always like this. Millennia of cultivators hoped for ascension, none ever flew away. Everyone puzzled: all claim ascension, yet none seen? To self-console, they invented Dharma-ending Age excuse: now unlike before. Before, even dogs ascended. Like Qing end: elders always said morals decline, people worse than past. I see it as fooling kids. Past probably no better, maybe worse. We just not born then. Good or bad: all their word.”
Wu Bowen brightened. “Junior brother speaks sense! Peak cultivation likely thousand-odd years lifespan, like the Lord’s master. Ascension: mere cultivator conjecture and wish. See modern scientists prattle interstellar travel, colonisation? But great senior brother said: even light takes years to nearest star. Humans maybe ten thousand years later still cannot live there. Ascension perhaps same: theoretical peak, reality forever unreachable.”
Wu Paulo self-mocked a smile. “You make sense. Likely ascension an early pie drawn for later cultivators: forever uneatable.”
Speaking thus, Wu Paulo harboured his own calculations.
He knew ascension could not be interstellar travel.
Pre-Dharma-ending, impossible for tribulation succeeders to foolishly fly from Earth into space, traversing cosmos decades, centuries, millennia for another realm. Pure madness.
He preferred believing ascension a transmission mechanism.
In his reasoning, ascension resembled an invisible imperial examination.
Only, the examiner not a tangible court, but super cultivators of profound attainment.
Like courts selecting officials via exams, super cultivators needed fresh blood for upper ranks.
Thus, they devised heavenly tribulation and ascension.
Not truly: reach cultivation, heaven strikes lightning to test fortune. If true heavenly dao exists, managing billions of galaxies, trillions of stars and planets: too busy for some planetary shrimp. Special lightning for you? Think highly of yourself?
Wu Paulo felt tribulation more like reaching minimum for upper selection. They notice, grant exam chance.
Lightning: merely the test. Nothing more.
Pass: prove worthy. Great divine power opens a gate, teleports you. You enter officialdom, starting low. Upper layers have their own hierarchy.
Even imperial exams: provincial, metropolitan, palace: three rounds. Tribulation perhaps just cultivators’ provincial round.
In antiquity, top palace exam scorer: merely Hanlin Academy qualification, lowly sixth rank. There: still a shrimp, climbing gradually.
Even top scorer, rising to prime minister: royalty still above.
Rebel successfully, become emperor: merely one nation’s lord.
If small nation? Surrounded by foes? Worse luck: like 15th-century African Dahomey or Zulu king. Portuguese colonisers arrive: whole nation enslaved for cotton, sugarcane. Emperor exiled: ancestral merit.
Anyway: climb everywhere. Next hurdle after this. Difference: cultivators’ long lifespans allow gradual ascent. Living millennia or more: huge allure.
Fail tribulation, turn to dust or loose immortal: your problem. Ascension harsher than exams: no retake.
Precisely because Wu Paulo built such logic, he held greater ambition than Wu Bowen, Wu Bozhong, even Wu Fiona.
Even Wu Fiona dared not dream ascension.
She thought simply: obtain Hundred Turns Thousand Returns Pill, live another five centuries. Next five centuries: later problem. Now: waste of effort.
But Wu Paulo felt: if Antarctic legend true, ascension perhaps no distant dream. Why not aim farther?
