[Haypasia deduced: "I understand now… So it must have been my 'neighbor' who came by earlier."]
The neighbor she referred to was naturally an Aranara. The adorable Aranara, seeing Haypasia unconscious, naturally wouldn't leave her alone.
So it brought a lot of fruit and even stuffed some into Haypasia's mouth, which was why her lips were stained with juice while she was unconscious, making her look like someone who had fallen into a trance after using some hypnotic app.
But midway through, the Traveler arrived, startling the little cucumber and causing it to flee, turning the whole thing into something that felt like a bizarre plot twist.
And its escape method wasn't just burrowing into the ground—it also conveniently hypnotized the Traveler, making her have a dream to buy time while it slipped away.
The Traveler turned out to have a highly suggestible constitution; she fell for it very easily.
However, the Traveler's willpower was strong, the hypnosis didn't take full effect, and she woke up again.
As for this mysterious neighbor, Haypasia didn't know its name, only that it probably had some connection to Lord Kusanali.
[Haypasia: "Because the first time I saw it was the day my consciousness successfully connected to the Irminsul."]
The illustration is a flashback scene: Haypasia has just woken from meditation, and in front of her is the back of an Aranara dancing.
'Sky no wind, sky no rain, sky has sun~'
At that time, Haypasia had just disconnected from the Irminsul. The moment she emerged, she saw a strange 'cucumber' wriggling near the cave entrance.
Xiangling was very familiar with this feeling—she too had woken up in a cave and seen something round and rolling wriggling around.
Curious, Haypasia approached. The Aranara didn't react until she crouched down and stared at it, and only then did it realize Haypasia could see it.
Then Haypasia also had a dream, and when she woke up, the Aranara had long since vanished.
Most adults in Sumeru found it wondrous: so these creatures had always been active around them?
It seemed the children hadn't been lying after all—they really could see magical beings.
As expected of Lord Kusanali's kin; even the fact that adults couldn't see them made them so similar to the Dendro Archon.
But now they could finally see Lord Kusanali—tiny, soft, and sweet-smelling.
Ahem, one couldn't just say things like that carelessly, or the Akademiya's guards would arrest you and you'd never get to see little Lord Kusanali again. That would be terrible. Being able to meet Lord Kusanali was such a wonderful thing.
Just earlier, some book buyers had seen her toddling on her little legs toward someone's house.
Setting little Lord Kusanali aside, why could only children see these wondrous creatures? Thinking carefully about the difference between children and adults, the biggest distinction seemed to be whether or not one could dream.
Was it really a good thing that adults in Sumeru no longer dreamed? The people of Sumeru began to doubt.
Normally, one couldn't see Aranara at all; only by connecting to the Irminsul could one perceive them. So could the Traveler see them because she had once connected to the Irminsul, or because she still possessed a childlike heart?
Hard to say—after all, the Traveler seemed to fulfill both conditions. And the highly perceptive Traveler was always able to see things ordinary people couldn't.
Should one say, as expected of XX's dog? She can see what others can't (crossed out).
Ahem, cute little Lumine is definitely not a dog. She just has a sensitive constitution and is a genius.
In the story, Haypasia explicitly states that being able to connect to the Irminsul after three years of inhaling that incense already made her a genius. And the Traveler? Instantly!
That terrifying perceptiveness truly deserved to be called frightful. Most geniuses in Sumeru would pale in comparison. Truly, if one does not know the Traveler, any genius is in vain.
By the way, Haypasia belongs to the Amurta school of the Akademiya and studies the stars and fate—Mona's specialty.
How should one put it? Do all of you who study the stars love calling yourselves geniuses?
But then again, Haypasia's research into the stars relies entirely on connecting to the Irminsul to obtain knowledge, which simply cannot compare to Mona.
Mona once said something similar to Haypasia: the stars are too mysterious, filled with too many unsolved riddles.
Thus, hitting a wall while studying the stars can be considered a form of discipline.
When Mona encounters these "walls," her choice is to face them head-on and "break through."
Haypasia's choice, however, is to directly search for the answer. When scholars cannot connect to the Irminsul, they become lost.
This can be called a common ailment among the people of Sumeru: when faced with a problem, they choose to seek help from the Akasha or the Irminsul instead of tackling it like scholars from other nations.
This is not a good thing. As long as it is a "circle," it will have "walls." Only searching for what is already known does not make one a scholar.
The true scholar is the one who continually seeks the unknown, who constantly asks questions and constantly seeks answers.
This is also the drawback of the Akasha System—it has caused the scholars of the nation of wisdom to no longer deserve the name "scholar."
The people of Sumeru truly rely too much on the Akasha. A thorough "cure" is needed.
Conveniently, Haypasia's words in the story perfectly illustrate the Sumeru people's dependence on the Akasha and the Irminsul.
[Haypasia: "To be honest, I really envy your perceptiveness. Even if it meant a lifetime of palpitations and headaches, I would be willing if it let me connect to the Irminsul."]
The moment these words came out, everyone understood the Sumeru people's longing for the knowledge within the Irminsul.
It was truly "thinking of it by day, crying for it by night, dreaming of going to the capital."
But as everyone knows, the people of Sumeru do not dream of electric sheep, so it is difficult for them to connect to the Irminsul through dreams—an undeniable contradiction.
Even stranger, the people of Sumeru never seem to have questioned this point: why are dreams called foolish by the sages, yet connecting to the Irminsul requires dreams?
No one ever doubted it, because it was what the sages told them through the Akasha, and they would not question the Akasha.
Speaking of which, the Akasha Terminal "deprives" people of dreams. In the story, Haypasia happens to mention to the Traveler that "adults in Sumeru do not dream."
The sages told them that "wisdom" is "reason," and dreams lack logic, so not dreaming is a blessing from the God of Wisdom.
Only when they cease to dream do they truly become adults.
The Grand Sage himself said so—therefore the truth must be the exact opposite.
The current people of Sumeru began to feel that these words were wrong, because they now knew that both Lord Kusanali and her kin possessed abilities related to dreams.
Their god, the God of Wisdom, is a deity who governs dreams. So are dreams truly opposed to wisdom?
Clearly not—otherwise wisdom would become the enemy of the God of Wisdom.
Yet they still did not understand why they could not dream; that would be revealed later in the story.
By Sumeru standards, only children dream—so the Traveler, who had just had a dream, could be considered "an adult on the outside, but an exceptionally foolish Traveler Lumine on the inside!"
At this moment, the foolish little Lumine also gained a slight understanding of some information about Sumeru through their conversation.
===✧✦✧===
Character Voice · Raiden Ei: About Dreams
"Lucian asked me if I still dream. What kind of question is that? I don't even sleep—why would I dream?"