I founded Tantric Buddhism in London

John Watson dreamed of the strange woodland again. Before he fell asleep, he couldn't even remember that he had had a similar dream before.

But until he stood in the dark woodland again, the mottled moths fluttered around him, and the whispers poured into his head.

This pathetic man who forgot himself vaguely recalled that he seemed to have escaped into such a dream... not just once, not just the weird dream of the ancient tree man and the little snowman, during the time he was hospitalized, he couldn't count the number of times he entered the woodland.

He walked to the well in the woodland and bent down to pick up the secret fragments left by Velvet.

He walked into the temple of the wheel and listened to the voice of the dead god in the stone.

He walked through the pure white door, beat the cold dead and devoured their memories.

He walked in the orchard of light and stole knowledge before the orchard guards arrived.

The continuous dream walks should have made John Watson's knowledge grow rapidly.

The vast knowledge was enough to burst his brain and crack his skull.

But every time he woke up from a dream, John Watson had forgotten everything in the dream. He couldn't even remember what he had forgotten.

It was as if a deformed and ugly blood vessel was inserted into his head, and before he could react, all the knowledge and gains that should have belonged to him had been stolen, leaving no leftovers.

The cold sunlight in the early morning shone through the narrow window bars, reflecting on the face of the patient in Room 103 of Woolsthorpe Lunatic Asylum.

His expression seemed a little dazed, his real right eye was dull and lifeless, and only the fake left eye was still shining with the self-righteous rational light.

John Watson scooped up a pool of clear water and splashed it on his face. The chill that went straight into his bones drove away the confusion that had just woken up.

He carefully rubbed off the eye dirt and sweat oil, and after putting on handcuffs and shackles, he asked the nurses who had established a good relationship with him recently to help with facial care - mainly to shave off the stubble, so that his face would look more energetic.

But even so, he couldn't hide the fatigue on his face - his eye sockets were sunken as if he hadn't had a good sleep for a long time, and his cheeks were slightly thinner, and he even had a poor appetite when facing the hospital's unusually rich food.

But John Watson clearly spent most of his time in the ward every day, using his own weight to exercise his body according to the knowledge in his mind - such simple exercise should not cause such severe fatigue, this fatigue was completely for no reason, as if something invisible was quietly taking away his energy, making him exhausted.

He once asked Dr. George, the attending doctor, whether he had any other illness, but the doctor just replied meaningfully: "John, your condition is not a new disease, but your body is adapting to the conflict between the invisible and the great."

"Don't worry, this situation will soon disappear. You will inevitably become weaker, but at the same time, you will inevitably become more rational."

"This process is probably benign."

At that time, John Watson did not understand what Dr. George said, but after returning to the ward, he chewed the doctor's words carefully and felt that perhaps the most direct reason for his change seemed to be because of the newly installed artificial pupil in his left eye - the fatigue and confusion when he woke up every day seemed to start after the artificial eye was installed.

'Sure enough, there is no free lunch in the world. '

'According to the knowledge given by the artificial eye... the energy of nature is conserved, and it will not be created or destroyed out of thin air. ’

‘In that case, I should pay the corresponding energy for using the special ability of the artificial pupil... The price is that my passion seems to be burned out, and my health seems to be exhausted. ’

‘But compared with this meager price, the ability of the artificial pupil is still indispensable and powerful... The special ability to see through the wall, even if I just go to the casino, the money I earn is enough for me to make up for the loss. ’

John Watson put away his thoughts of recollection and nodded to the nurse who had just put away the razor in front of him to thank him - in order to prevent these mentally ill people from self-harming, no sharp objects are allowed in the hospital rooms.

But no matter how neat and refreshing his face is, it can't cover up the hideous scar that goes straight through his left eye. The scar is so deep that the surrounding muscles seem to be atrophied and shriveled - even if John Watson has tried his best to squeeze out a warm smile that makes people feel like spring breeze, as long as he raises the corners of his mouth, he will pull his muscles to reveal a hideous smile that can stop children from crying at night.

John Watson attended Dr. George's consultation this week with this grim smile that could never be gentle. The main purpose of this consultation was to determine whether he had recovered and whether he was qualified to move to Ward 1, which was freer and more relaxed and where he could browse the library in the hospital at will.

George looked up and down at Patient No. 103, who seemed to have undergone a transformation. Transformation did not mean that the person's appearance had changed drastically, but that his behavior and speech had improved greatly, and he had been promoted from a vulgar street person to a polite gentleman.

Such an amazing change is simply unbelievable, but considering that the artificial eye installed in the other party's skull is the creation of the Great Art, then all this can be explained... The Great Art is a more systematic and profound knowledge than the Invisible Art, so the power contained in the knowledge of the Great Art is naturally completely different from the despicable Invisible Art.

George carefully read the recent behavior report and infiltration report on John Watson in his hand-the other party seemed to have completely believed that his new knowledge was all given by the artificial eye given by Miss Holmes, and did not realize that every late at night, there would be another subtle voice resounding in his mind, quietly infiltrating into his heart in the form of resonance, making him self-righteously recall the past-those forged military pasts.

Under the quiet hypnosis designed by Miss Holmes's artificial pupil and Dean Isaac, John Watson's personality reconstruction process has obviously achieved great success. The other party has now shed his stupid and cowardly appearance, and his face is full of confident and humble smiles, which is the human nature given by reason and knowledge.

George nodded slightly, smiled and stamped [Agree to Transfer] on John Watson's file, "Congratulations, John, you recovered quickly and can be transferred to the mild illness area... The nurses will take you to the new ward later."

"In the mild illness area, patients are allowed to leave some simple items. Do you have any additional needs or anything you want?"

John Watson seemed to have prepared a draft in advance, and answered quickly without thinking: "Doctor George, can I have a pen and some paper?"

"I always feel like there are a lot of inspirations in my head recently, thinking that maybe If I write down these inspirations into words... I always feel that those who can immerse themselves in the ocean of words should also be able to gain a long-lost sense of peace in their hearts... This may also help my condition.

……………………

It was night, under the lamp.

The deformed boy who was getting fatter and fatter was sitting at the table writing furiously.

The white-haired girl who had tasted the taste of killing was familiarizing herself with the newly mastered teachings of the blade, trying to condense a solid sharp blade by controlling the innate coldness.

She finally condensed an ice spike that was not sharp after a lot of hard work. She immediately held it tightly in her hand and presented it to her father like a treasure, "Father! Look, I can finally condense a real blade!"

The father just smiled and touched her head, "Little Anna, play by yourself for a while, father is still busy here, I will find you later."

The girl looked at the pile of papers on the table, pouting a little unhappy, "Father, you are still copying the secret of the blade. Isn't it enough to copy so much? Do you need my help? ”

“You are far from qualified to copy secret knowledge, Anna… Only those who know it can record the texts with power without restraint.”

“If you want to awaken the resistance in the hearts of the people, secret knowledge is far from enough… Only hundreds of monsters with sharp blades can awaken the long-forgotten fear of this city.”

The temperature has dropped rapidly in the past few days, and the author has been infected by accident. I don’t know if it is Sanyang. Anyway, I have been very tired these days. I lay down for a day and a night the day before, and I barely managed to hold on to work these two days until I fell asleep when I got home and died until dawn… I finally recovered some energy today, and I will try to resume normal updates tomorrow