I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 466 The Struggle Between Sages and Consciousness Throughout History

Whether young or old, whether driving, walking, or riding an ox or a horse.

Irving knew their identities at a glance.

Those were people who etched their names into a great civilization, a people, and vibrant souls.

Fallen leaves scatter, sunlight filters through the treetops, filling the forest with their vibrant and real figures.

The boy was momentarily stunned, his eyes welling up with tears.

—Since Pangu separated heaven and earth, his enormous body has evolved into a rich, diverse, vast and complete landscape.

But the people of that land never seemed to have given the gods absolute authority over humans, because their myths were always based on humans, not gods.

Before the gods had gone far, the two appeared, and they—the people before us—used the wisdom that grew from that land to answer the ultimate questions about the universe.

Just then, an old man riding backwards on a blue ox walked past him.

The old man had a sage-like air about him, and his white beard reached his waist.

He didn't say anything.

She just watched the boy and laughed.

Soon his blue bull left Irving's side.

At that moment, another person came along.

That was also an elderly man, wearing a long robe and leaning on a cane, with several people of different ages supporting him.

"Looking up, I have no shame before Heaven; looking down, I have no shame before men. When I am successful, I will help all under Heaven; when I am unsuccessful, I will cultivate my own virtue."

A middle-aged man standing next to the old man, exuding an aura of righteousness, spoke first.

After he spoke for a moment, the tall, thin old man in black robes on the other side of the old man looked at him and said bluntly: "The difference between humans and beasts lies not in human nature, but in human conduct. Humans do not have morality because they cannot avoid it by nature, but because they know they should have morality, so they strive to do good."

The elderly person they were helping stopped in their tracks.

He bowed to the boy from a distance.

Belatedly realizing what was happening, Irving quickly followed the old man's example and returned the greeting with a bow.

"If names are not correct, words will not be proper; if words are not proper, affairs will not be successful; if affairs are not successful, rites and music will not flourish," the old man said.

They then nodded to him, and the three of them walked past him and disappeared into the distance.

After the three saints passed by, a middle-aged man with disheveled hair, bare chest, and bare feet appeared, holding two butterflies in his hands. He looked at the boy, smiled gently, then shook his head and said, "The friendship between gentlemen is as light as water; it is better to forget each other in the rivers and lakes than to cling to each other in hardship."

"When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a person, it will first test their will, strain their muscles and bones, starve their body, and leave them destitute."

Then more and more people walked past him.

Irving stood on the edge of the field, like a passerby.

The fragrance of wheat fills the air, carried by the wind to unpredictable distances.

Without any dust settling, he soared high above.

The boy was stunned; he didn't understand why these ancient sages would appear here.

But they all seem to be talking to themselves.

They wanted to tell him something.

He still doesn't understand.

Suddenly—a burst of hearty laughter echoed through the world, a cacophony of sounds—the lively conversation had resumed once more.

Their voices reached Irving's ears clearly.

In an instant—Owen clearly noticed that the consciousness of some kind of deity that had been permeating this place suddenly vanished.

Because of ancient magic, he could easily notice the incessant chatter of wills around him.

"Did God ultimately lose to man?"

This is a declarative sentence, not an interrogative sentence.

Because the facts are already quite clear.

"I think I heard many people talking, reading. Many people were calling my name."

On the edge of the field, a young girl sat up.

She looked around blankly, then her gaze fell on Owen.

"In a sense, they are our ancestors," Irving said.

Then, a smile crept across his face. "Perhaps he sensed that his foolish offspring was in danger, so he came to rescue you himself."

"What descendants?" The girl paused, then suddenly realized something. "You speak Chinese?"

"I know a lot more," Owen chuckled, then continued, "How does it feel? I can sense your memories; they're quite faint. They shouldn't have any further impact on you, right?"

After Irving's reminder, Zhang Xiaolin noticed that the incessant voice in her head was gone, and all the pain inflicted on her by external forces had disappeared.

However, she still felt a headache.

The girl frowned and subconsciously held her forehead.

"Although there's no real danger now, it's normal to have a headache after all that flooding of memories," Owen said. He then sat down on the edge of the field. "Relax, clear your mind. Don't think about anything, just sit quietly and don't move."

"I cast a spell on you to control your mind and connect you with ancient magic, so you know, and I just found out too."

"You don't even need to answer aloud; just think it in your heart, and I will hear you."

"Who are you?" Despite the pain, Zhang Xiaolin still asked the question that concerned her the most.

"You should know me," Irving said gently. "My picture was in the newspapers for months last year, you couldn't possibly not recognize me."

I'm guessing your brain is short-circuiting right now, it's crashed, and it's rebooting; the search function isn't working properly.

So, let me briefly introduce myself here.

My name is Irving Sanchez.

A famous male student at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore's favorite heir.

Grindelwald's most beloved grandson.

The current head of the French Rozier family.

Founder of a famous chain of beverage shops.

A world-renowned therapist.

"Okay—these titles only capture about a tenth of my image. But you should have a general idea by now."

"Huh?" the girl asked in confusion. Owen was rambling on and on, and she was already having a headache, so she didn't pay any attention to the main point.

"Alright—all that was just empty talk." Owen waved his hand and said, "None of that matters. All you need to know is that I am not an illusion of anyone. I am trying to save you. The reason I am here is because I am using the Legilimency Spell on you."

"Why should I believe you?" Miss Zhang said angrily. Since entering the Coffin of Consciousness, she had encountered far too many disguises and illusions.

Moreover—the man/woman in front of us looks exactly like the woman from before.

That's right—she remembered now, the person in front of her was Owen Rozier, the young wizard from Hogwarts who had saved many Aurors' lives.

"Okay, it's understandable that people are suspicious of me." Owen wasn't angry. He and the Supreme Will looked exactly alike, though not exactly identical. They were practically twins born of the same mother, so it was only natural that people would misunderstand. It would be strange if she didn't suspect Owen.

"Let me think." The boy rubbed his chin and began to search his memory for information about Miss Zhang in front of him.

This is not easy. She has now absorbed too many memories of the goddess Diana, the supreme will of Ionia, and her past self from countless reincarnations, which has caused the memories belonging to the personality named Zhang Xiaolin to be squeezed into an extremely remote corner of the memory palace.

It took Owen a lot of effort to use the Soul Reaping Spell to retrieve some of her memories.

"Oh! I found it!" Irving exclaimed with delight. "Let me see it."

"Hmm—Zhang Xiaolin, right—in your secluded Qingfengzhai boudoir, under the third floor tile from the left side of the bed, there's a box containing a painting you've treasured for a long time."

"Stop—" Suddenly, Ms. Zhang's face turned red.

"I believe it!"

"Hmm? Aren't you afraid it's a goddess spying on your memories?"

"I said, I believe it!" the girl said firmly.

"Hmm—I understand—you want to leave a clean reputation in the world, right!" Owen found it amusing. "But if you ask me, that painting is already worn smooth, it's probably been through many hands, and the style is from hundreds of years ago. It really doesn't have much educational value."

"Shut up!!!" Miss Zhang shouted, her face flushed.

However, Irving's current partner showed no sign of shutting up, continuing to say, "These days, movies, TV shows, and Muggle videos are everywhere. Aren't we pretty close to some tiny country? Making some of that stuff is a piece of cake."

"I—" The girl gasped for breath, her desire to snap at the boy in front of her was overwhelming. If she weren't in such a terrible state, she would have pounced on him and strangled him long ago.

"I'm going to bite my tongue and kill myself!"

Irving looked Ms. Zhang up and down and said, "I don't believe it!"

"Judging from your memories, it seems you already have someone you like. You haven't even put your skills to use yet—"

"Go to hell (╯>д<)╯˙˙" Finally, the girl couldn't hold back anymore. She pounced like a ferocious tiger, suppressing her anger, raising her fist to leave her mark on Owen's handsome face. "Go to hell, go to hell, go to hell!!!"

Unfortunately, even in her normal state, she wouldn't be able to hit Owen, let alone now that she was low on health. The boy easily dodged her attack.

"Why are you so angry? I don't want to see your memories either."

Irving held out his left hand, showing her the wound. "Isn't it all connected now?"

His gaze fell on the girl's long hair, which was now a third black, and he said, "Besides, all the suggestions I made were legitimate."

"You son of a bitch, you stinky bitch, you son of a bitch."

"Huh? Why are you swearing right away?" Owen smiled. "Okay—in that case, I don't quite understand the markings on the bottom right of the third page of that [study material]."

What? Should we focus on studying this chapter?

A girl, nearly fainting from anger, sat on the ground glaring at him fiercely, uttering a few words from her mouth like a tigress ready to pounce: "I'm-sorry, I was-wrong."

"Ah! That's more like it—I'm a softie, I respond better to gentle persuasion than force."

Irving chuckled and sat back down on the floor.

"Alright, alright." He waved his hand. The girl's hair had almost turned black again. "The atmosphere has eased up enough. Let's get down to business."

"This place," he said, pointing around.

"Let's call the coffin of consciousness the Coffin of Consciousness! Your methods are truly ingenious, and your ideas are groundbreaking, although the probability of success is almost nonexistent, because no one can withstand the memories of a thousand years of reincarnation in an instant. But it is indeed a method."

What a genius!

"A genius?" Zhang Xiaolin took a deep breath to calm her turmoil. Of course, she still remembered the so-called truth that the woman had told her. These memories were especially clear because they had just happened, and she didn't need to search them. "According to what you said, I'm still doomed. I can't digest these memories at all. Maybe I'll become a different person soon."

"First of all—" Owen paused, "whether it's the goddess, the supreme will, or the consciousness of countless reincarnations, all of these have been cleansed by those sages who just penetrated deep into our souls and made us who we are."

"Secondly, this world is one you created yourself; it belongs to you, so you will never die no matter what."

"In the end, you don't become a different person, but your personality undergoes an irreversible transformation, and you will be different from before. For example, you used to like sweet tofu pudding, but now you like savory tofu pudding."

"."

"You know all this?" Ms. Zhang asked, somewhat surprised. "Aren't you French?"

"Reincarnation is not my choice, and I can't decide it. It's all Merlin's doing." Owen chuckled and changed the subject. "Of course, although I'm making it sound easy, for you, well—if your past self saw your future self, you would definitely think you've been possessed. You know what I mean?"

"Can it be avoided?" the girl asked. She was gradually coming to believe that Owen had come to save her.

"Yes—I can make some deletions to your memories. It's not difficult," Owen said. "I'll erase all your memories from your countless reincarnations. After all, it's a bit strange to think that your mother is you and your grandmother is you."

Only the memories of the goddess Diana and the supreme will are preserved.

"I don't want it," Zhang Xiaolin said firmly.

"You can't refuse." Owen's tone became serious. He pointed to the surrounding field ridges and cypress groves, "A group of ancient sages from the Ming Dynasty just walked by."

It was a vibrant era, which later generations named "The Hundred Schools of Thought Contend".

Why are they here?

Because the words of the sages form the foundation of our consciousness. This foundation, bestowed by ancient civilization, is even more important than your memories.

Because you lose some of your memories, you are still you, but you lose some of your fundamental nature. Your speech, behavior, way of handling things, and logic of thinking will undergo a complete transformation, turning you from "us" into "them."

Therefore, you cannot do without it, because it was the struggle between those two gods that led to your current state. Understanding the cause is essential to reaping the result; therefore, those memories are indispensable.

"I understand." Zhang Xiaolin nodded.

However, her eyes showed more surprise, because if the old master were sitting in front of her, she would not have thought there was anything wrong with the conversation just now.

The problem is—the other party is clearly a foreigner!

There was nothing about him that was related to the Ming Dynasty.

Why would someone like this know their history in such detail? And—yes, his thinking, his behavior, everything the boy in front of me showed was like that of a person from the Ming Dynasty.

"You—you wouldn't happen to be some ancient monster from the Ming Dynasty who has lived for hundreds of years, would you?" Zhang Xiaolin narrowed her eyes, seriously doubting Owen's identity. Possession and such, although it was only something that happened in novels and books in the magical world of the Ming Dynasty, wasn't the recently much-discussed "The Imposter" a kind of possession?

It's hard to say that a great mage might invent such magic someday.

"No—" Owen shook his head, "I just come from a greater civilization."

"France?!" Miss Zhang said with a mocking expression.

"A place that can answer the question: The greatest people throughout history are the people."

"Alright, alright, let's talk about you." Owen chuckled, then turned to Miss Zhang: "From the moment you entered the purple smoke in Australia, you—you were all under a spell."

The illusion was created by your past self, and I think you probably already know why.

Don't worry, Sirius and the others are fine. They were just under an illusion, and you'll be able to break the spell once you've regained consciousness.

What interests me are actually the enemies you encountered in the Coffin of Consciousness.

"Enemies? Which gods?" Miss Zhang asked, puzzled.

"I suppose so—what you encountered before is very much in line with Freud's personality psychology."

The first person they encountered claimed to be a god of life and death.

In instinct theory, the most basic human desires are explained as the life instinct and the death instinct. The will to live is the expression of struggling against fear, while the will to die is the tendency, from the moment of birth, for humans to return to the inorganic state in the mother's womb, because only in death can humans release tension and fear and obtain eternal peace.

You have experienced death, and you have constructed this illusory spiritual world, so both of your instincts are at their strongest, making them the first enemies you face.

Owen paused, then continued, "The second enemy is the Supreme Will of Ionia. Mad and cruel, it conjures countless hideous monsters and is impossible to communicate with or compromise with."

This is more like the unconscious or id in Freud's theory of consciousness, which is the realm of hidden instincts, unrestrained, irrational, primal impulses, and whose sole purpose is to seek satisfaction.

As the subconscious self, you can certainly defeat it, because your existence is the counterbalance to the id.

As for the last one, the nameless goddess, consciousness: the superego, which is located at the highest level of the personality structure, is the moralized self, which is internalized from social norms, ethics, and values.

Therefore, she would act with absolute rationality, devoid of emotion and desire, and govern her behavior with the purest of rules.

"This may be why you can defeat your id but not your superego, because as the subconscious ego, you are inherently subject to the objective reality of regulating your id while being controlled by your superego. You know very well that what your superego says is correct and the most reasonable and objective."

Having lost from the very beginning, there was naturally no possibility of defeating the opponent.

"Yes—you have completely gone through a series of battles within your own mental world."

"."

"I don't understand at all," Miss Zhang said, rubbing her forehead. "But why do those monsters transform into your appearance?"

Ron Weasley, a young wizard at Hogwarts, and Koyatl of Ifamoni.

Grindelwald, and you too.

(End of this chapter)