In the Saturn System, Shaluo City, inside a biological research institute with an absurdly poor return on investment, three people—young, middle-aged, and old—were sprawled across three sofas, each catching their breath in silence.
They were tired.
Developing a new divine skill from the source upward was an exceedingly draining task. Even masters would collapse from exhaustion when it was time to collapse. But someone as powerful as Old Jia had lain down too, mainly because of Shi Tiexin.
He was too fast.
The speed at which things went from paper to practice was too fast.
No matter the concept, no matter how wildly imaginative the idea, as long as it fell within the domain of sharpness, Shi Tiexin could understand it at high speed, apply it at high speed, and put it into practice at high speed, displaying a foundation so solid it left people marveling.
Old Jia calculated inwardly. In the field of sharpness control alone, setting aside those ancient monsters stuck at their realm due to extraordinarily special circumstances, Shi Tiexin could already firmly enter the first echelon across the entire Solar System.
What excellent talent. It had sent the development speed of the Superstate Divine Skill soaring, even faster than Old Jia's most optimistic projections.
But ultra-high-speed implementation also fed back vast quantities of problems at ultra-high speed.
It felt a little like coding in ancient times: fix one bug, and ten bugs popped up.
He was exhilarated and irritable, progress was fast and problems were many; he was both a light boat racing ten thousand miles and a mind tangled in ten thousand thoughts. Every second drained Old Jia's mental strength. The hair that had only recently grown lush again visibly thinned. In the end, with no other choice, he could only collapse onto the sofa