Mukhalis: Hero of Bentala
18. Cultivation

The black-haired girl who was waving as she ran through the forest seemed to be in a hurry. Split the bushes until it stops right on the river bank where Guru Mahendra sits relaxing. Realizing that he was late in bringing the food as it should be, Indira bowed deeply and asked for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry, Master!" indira repeatedly lowered his head. "I almost forgot to bring my stuff here."

The grandfather did not look disappointed or upset, he with a smile said, "No problem. Your job is too crowded to be able to manage time, I shouldn't burden you more than this."

Master Mahendra then turned to Suluh there and exclaimed, "Sit down, Indira."

The woman complied, sitting down and arranging the food as the old man said, "What about the exercise?"

Indira was silent for a moment, remembering something. "No one is cultivating yet, Master. Except for a kid named Samudra."

"Like that, huh?" said Mahendra's grandfather who looked no wonder. "It's not strange, because on the fifth day he's already tasted Prana."

Indira nodded in response, pouring out what was on her mind. "When the others have not reached the first stage, he has been able to receive Prana with a relatively short time."

The woman prepared rice and side dishes in a container, giving it to Guru Mahendra. "This is for you, Master."

"Thank you, my son," said the grandfather in a soft tone, receiving a rattan container over which there was a banana leaf. "It is a gift, among men obtain such an advantage. There must be some intent behind that provision."

"But, Master, there's something I want to ask," Indira mengamah his food little by little. "According to Master, could it be that Suluh has Prana in her body?"

"Because in my opinion, wearing a nimble aid is impossible even for a child from the age of four," Indira racau who realized that he was ignored by Master Mahendra. "Teacher?"

The grandfather put the container back on the mat, both eyelids wide, glued towards Suluh. "Could it be?"

Indira felt strange with Guru Mahendra, taking part in the children who meditated there. There was nothing suspicious, Suluh was still silent on the spot. "Teacher, what's wrong?"

The girl could neither feel nor see anything visible from Master Mahendra's eyes. An aura that was flaring from the tribe of Suluh, heated up and continued to emit rays that were getting brighter and brighter. The boy's body, no doubt, contained a Prana of incredible scale. It can even be said to be infinite.

"Can ordinary humans match Mystic Beings?" whispered Master Mahendra unconsciously.

The child dissolves into the spiritual world, the place where all Prana is gathered. Objects like flying dust grains one by one began to approach Suluh, sticking and penetrating into the body. But it is not known to the child that the same light has been in the torah, too much so that the collection of points meets the soul.

No exception to both hands and feet, they show different signs of Prana. As if following the flow of copper fibers from the tools, providing an energy that turned out to be the reason behind the ability of Sulah to use these objects. The immeasurable thing is, the more Prana from the outside goes in, the radiance that radiates away fades, over time emitting nothing. Just emptiness.

During that time, the body of Suluh released a temperatureless air. Like a gust of wind that is very strong, the black clothes Cenderawasih waving upwards. Reed's black hair was fluttering as a result of the resulting atmosphere. Even the flow of water that was originally fine, turned thunderous, creating irregular waves circling the stone that Suluh occupied.

But the young man was still concentrating, concentrating all the consciousness within the heart. Thus during his time in the subconscious, his senses were originally deaf again decorated with strange sounds. The human voice clutched for nothing, a shout, a sob, and a soft voice. At first what the woman said was still vague, until she saw for herself the face of the heart's longing up close.

Mud, dust, and even blood filled Sekar's beautiful face. His eyes that had been reddened like sobbing for so long, forced a smile and then exclaimed softly, "Until we meet again, Suluh."

"What about your cultivation, young man?" grandpa sounded raucous.

"Elder?" The torch is still wide-eyed, immeasurable that the Chief Cenderawasih himself would bother to swipe it alone. "Why are the Elders here?"

He chuckled then said, "Aware of checking whether what Mahendra said is not just a joke."

"And he is not wrong," added Elder Mustari not occasionally turn the spotlight other than towards Suluh.

He did not know what grandfather meant but his presence here was too reasonable and strange. Moreover, when Suluh was about to stand up, he could not feel the two artificial legs. Even the two hands that are always playable, are suddenly stiff. He was paralyzed, igniting the torment of a lightning-fast torch. Panicking because he really can't do anything meaningful.

"Sir, what happened?" Torrentiality, fear. "I can't move my arms and legs as I normally would."

"Young man, control your emotions," exclaimed the grandfather still sitting cross-legged, unlike astonishment. "Take it easy, apply all the knowledge you can from your training first."

According to him, try to relax and take a deep breath. This event never happened before. Surely Suluh will be very anxious and not accustomed if he does not feel the tools. However, after he tried to re-surf into the subconscious, the points that were originally unable to be felt are now restored.

The artificial hand above the knee is slowly moving, followed by the torso that can be operated. When everything felt back to normal, the young man opened his eyes and turned to Elder Mustari with joy. Although Suluh's facial water is still not gone from worry.

"Elder, what did I just experience?" said Suluh find out.

"Like my previous assumption, that your tools are connected to the Prana that is in your body" cried Elder Mustari began to stand up. "When you cultivate, your senses are concentrated into a single consciousness that makes your access to those machines temporarily cut off."

"Therefore when you wake up, your man's consciousness has not returned to its original place, to the point it should be" the grandfather smiled. "Try to rearrange your man after cultivating."

"I mean Elder, I've managed to accept Prana, right?" Suluh's tone sounded cheerful and there was little doubt.

"Yes, that's right" said Elder Mustari and looked up. "On a scale larger than I thought. It might even be equivalent to a Mystical Being."

Whether Suluh should be happy or not, the dream of Elder Mustari even looks anxious. The grandfather said again, "I should not hesitate for a moment after you were present at Cenderawasih. You both have the same aura."

Suluh had completely lost her way this time, not understanding the elder's sentence description. But after looking deeper, he remembered the figure of the black silhouette. "Will it be Mukhalis, the Elder?"

Grandfather Mustari suddenly turned to look right at Suluh who initially noticed the space that turned increasingly gloomy. "You two are linked to each other. Most likely after this cultivation of yours, he sensed your presence."

"Ten, when fate has recorded the course of your life," Elder Mustari increasingly pulled over, the bedecked being worn almost wet by water. "You won't be able to escape."

"You have to accept and do your best" said the grandfather. "We pray for your success."

...----------------...