The Shepherds Are Dense – Chapter 258

Chapter 259: The Moron Curse

After Haina left, about three to four hours passed before Sherlock finally returned home.

Eivass lay on the sofa, legs crossed and hands clasped in front of his abdomen. He spoke with a hint of dissatisfaction, “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, Sherlock. I told you before that I was coming.”

“Then thank you,” Sherlock said, his expression quite weary as he entered. “I’m glad you could wait for me for so long without leaving, my friend.”

Afterward, he asked Madam Mina for a glass of hot Brandy to alleviate his headache. Madam Mina hesitated slightly but agreed.

“You’re going to drink?” Eivass was startled by Sherlock’s reaction. He remembered that Sherlock would get drunk on the slightest bit of alcohol, and his behavior when drunk wasn’t the best. Because of this, he usually avoided alcohol entirely—it would only lead to embarrassment.

However, Eivass didn’t stop Sherlock. He just wanted to see Sherlock’s regret after sobering up. “I need a drink; I have a headache,” Sherlock said, clutching his forehead, his brows furrowed deeply. “After I ‘resurrected,’ Director Kent took me to resolve the backlog of cases. I’ve been busy until now, finally clearing all the cases from this period.”

“…That doesn’t seem right?” Eivass asked with some doubt. “Logically, this amount of work shouldn’t make you feel tired, should it?”

Sherlock was an old hand at work, the type who willingly worked overtime, proactively seeking it out. He was like a large dog with endless energy. If this energy wasn’t channeled through work, he would become restless and uncomfortable at home. He could even work for three days straight, sleeping only four to five hours in total, and even then, he’d only feel tired, recovering his energy with a good night’s sleep. Furthermore, Sherlock had already undergone an Ascension, which should have further developed his brain power.

“It’s not fatigue. It’s a headache,” Sherlock corrected Eivass.

“What’s the difference?”

“It’s like starving to death—one is starving to malnutrition, the other is starving for a long time and then eating too much and bursting. I’m the latter,” Sherlock gave a precise analogy.

He sank onto the sofa and grabbed the biscuits Madam Mina had baked for Eivass from the table, chewing them ravenously as if he had been reincarnated from a hungry ghost. After three handfuls of biscuits, his complexion improved somewhat.

“This Ascension didn’t significantly strengthen my physique, but it greatly reinforced my brain… I’m having trouble controlling my brain now. It’s just a very simple problem, and I’ve almost immediately thought of the answer, but it starts to associate on its own, analyzing a lot of meaningless things…” Sherlock paused and added, “It’s like after listening to a concert, when you lie down to sleep, echoes occasionally arise in your mind. My damn brain is now constantly, repeatedly, and meaninglessly thinking about things that already have an answer!”

“So you need alcohol to numb your brain,” Eivass realized. “It seems this Ascension has given you quite a benefit.”

“Yes. Although it’s a bit troublesome, it should be a good thing,” Sherlock admitted without pretense, nodding. “It’s just that I can’t control it right now. If it keeps deducing the details and relationships of those dozen cases in my mind, I won’t be able to sleep at all. With my brain this active, even if I fall asleep, I’ll probably have nightmares.”

“This is why the ‘Dream Traveling Monk’ belongs to the Path of Wisdom,” Eivass said, smiling. “I know what your current situation is. This happens occasionally in the Ancient Kingdom of Anxi and the Daffodil Duchy. It’s called ‘Spiritual Body Disharmony,’ a disease caused by your soul being too powerful for your body.”

“Can you save me, Doctor?” Sherlock sighed. “For the first time, I feel like thinking is such a painful thing… mainly because it’s impossible to stop, and it’s thinking along several lines simultaneously. Even if I want to stop them, it’s impossible… I’m even starting to recall my college classmates; my brain is constantly analyzing them… Thank you, Madam Mina.”

He said this as he accepted the signature hot apple cider from Madam Mina. Sherlock drank it down without hesitation or changing his expression, clearly intending to force a shutdown through this method.

“Because Law Masters primarily strengthen rationality, and Mages even more so. You already had a good foundation, and with two percentage-based enhancements, excessive rationality leads to spiritual imbalance. Your soul, to compensate for this imbalance, begins to draw power from your body to strengthen your emotional side and continuously inject excess rationality into your brain… This is why you become impulsive, why you become abnormally fatigued, and why your brain cannot stop thinking.”

Eivass explained, “Simply put, it’s a genius affliction. It’s not a big problem… Your brain will adapt after a period of time. This is how the higher levels of the Path of Wisdom are—without violently modifying your brain like this, you cannot adapt to higher levels of wisdom.”

“But I’m feeling terrible, you stupid fox!” Sherlock’s voice rose slightly. He quickly realized his emotions were getting out of control again and rubbed his temples, his headache returning. “If it’s like this, I won’t be able to sleep tonight. Without sufficient rest, I won’t be able to start working, let alone accompany you to Eagle Cape Village for the investigation…”

“Come here,” Eivass sighed and his right hand glowed slightly. Sherlock immediately stopped talking, leaned in, and closed his eyes—the radiance in Eivass’s palm was so intense that even with closed eyes, it was blinding. Soon, he felt Eivass’s palm press against his forehead. A continuous stream of warmth flowed in, like soaking in a hot spring, being massaged by warm, gentle water on the back of his head… It felt like something warm was dissolving within his brain, and he couldn’t help but shiver. The accumulated fatigue vanished in an instant, and his aching brain, confused by the jumbled thoughts, gradually found solace. Sherlock couldn’t help but exhale, feeling this rare sense of peace.

However, Eivass then removed his hand. Sherlock immediately realized this—as Eivass took his hand away, Sherlock’s brain slowly began to turn again. “…It doesn’t seem to cure the root cause, fox!” Sherlock clutched his head, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“I’m just helping you feel less terrible for now,” Eivass said indifferently, then got up and walked towards Lily. From her waist pouch, Eivass found the black goat’s wool, charcoal, a small wooden puppet, ginger essential oil, rosemary essential oil, and a piece of black crystal. Eivass unceremoniously walked over and yanked a lock of hair from Sherlock’s forehead—a lock, not a strand, causing Sherlock to jump up from the sofa in pain.

“Still got a headache?” Eivass confirmed the extent of Sherlock’s headache. Then, in front of Sherlock, he began to set up a ritual.

*Damn it, how could it not hurt!* Sherlock wanted to curse, but seeing this, he quieted down and swallowed his words. He watched as Eivass cut his own finger and smeared the blood onto the puppet’s heart. He then wrapped Sherlock’s hair around the puppet’s forehead. Afterward, he injected his Mana into the black crystal shard, crushed it, and thrust several sharp pieces, like daggers, into the puppet’s forehead and heart.

Seeing this, Sherlock, who had thought Eivass was about to use a ritual to heal him, raised an eyebrow. “This is a ritual?”

“This is a curse,” Eivass replied casually, his hands still moving. “The Fog of Ignorance Curse… Of course, I prefer to call it the Moron Curse.”

Next, Eivass wrapped the black goat’s wool around the puppet and lit the charcoal, placing the puppet within. As Eivass chanted, Sherlock gradually felt a hazy mist forming in his brain. The headache from the constant thinking also gradually dissipated.

“…Curses can also heal?” Sherlock asked, covering his forehead in surprise.

“Poisons can also save lives, you know,” Eivass chuckled. “Learn from it, little brother! Thank me quickly!”

Sherlock gritted his teeth, about to retort, but remembered that Eivass had just treated him. He could only reluctantly say thank you.

*My plan was a miscalculation, how could it reach ten thousand votes?!* (He pounded the ground.) *I originally planned to add more updates next month. Looking at the 12,000 votes by the 28th, I set a goal of ten thousand. But it was met in a single day… I’ll try to add one more update tonight. The second update will probably be around two o’clock, and the third might be at six…*