Xu Yi wasn't an enlightened eminent monk or a Buddha Ancestor who had attained sainthood. He had his own seven emotions and six desires, and a temper he couldn't always suppress.
But whenever negative emotions threatened to make him reach a mistaken judgment, he could often hit the brakes in time. That was the use of reflection.
Even now, he still hadn't found a way to break the impasse before him, but his mind had settled.
He reminded himself that he might as well treat this as a trial, a hurdle to temper his heart.
If he didn't have the courage or the means to cross even this hurdle, then what was the point of fighting for the Great Dao?
Once he had calmed down, Xu Yi composed himself and joined the others in sorting through the mountains of paperwork.
For more than ten days straight, he never left Hall Seven, not even to eat or sleep.
When he finished sorting everything on the eleventh day and took his leave, the black-faced middle-aged man who had once berated him actually came to his side and whispered, "You're not bad, kid. Really not bad. With a temperament like yours, even I can't help feeling sorry to see your talent wasted. Let me offer you a word of advice: when you're beneath someone else's roof, why not bow your head? I don't know who you offended, but it must be someone important. Someone like that won't truly hold a grudge against a small fry like you. Bow your head, let him lift a finger, and you'll be through."
"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
Xu Yi thanked him softly, then left.
The moment he returned to Dormitory 137, a commotion broke out. Tie Dagang and the others rushed out to greet