The young disciple then took the bowl from Dayu.
Dayu tipped his head back and drained it in one gulp. The tea slid down his throat, its fragrance spreading through his mouth. It was the most ordinary Spiritual Tea, with nothing particularly special about its flavor, but it felt pleasant going down.
He handed the bowl back.
The disciple took it and smiled at him before turning and running off.
"Good luck in your next event, Martial Brother."
Dayu gave a grunt, tucked his shovel into the cloth bag at his waist, and headed toward the Martial Dao track.
He recalled what his Master at the Childcare Institute had once told him.
"You have talent, but your greatest talent is not your Spirit Root. It is patience."
Back then, he had not understood. What talent could possibly surpass a Spirit Root?
A Spirit Root determined the speed of cultivation and how far one could go.
But after all these years, he had gradually come to understand.
Canals had to be dug shovel by shovel, and water had to be guided little by little. Water control did not depend on explosive spells achieved overnight. It depended on the patience to understand water's nature and the steadiness to follow the principles of heaven and earth.
Just like cultivation, one could not become fat in a single bite or reach the horizon in one step. One had to keep walking step by step, accumulating day by day. Eventually, one would reach the place one wished to go.
Dayu watched the young disciple's retreating figure. He ran quickly, his robe pressed against his body by the wind, revealing a slender section of his back.
Dayu recalled his childhood in the Peaceful Realm. His parents had both been mortals, rising at sunrise and resting at