The old man was racing against time, wishing the clock hands would stop. How could he have any spare energy to care what other people thought of him?
Every sunrise filled the old man with joy.
Every sunset filled him with sorrow.
Whenever he saw the sun go down, he couldn't help thinking of a word he hated.
"The sun is setting in the west."
Ha. The sun was setting in the west.
But the sun rose every day.
So what if it set?
When the time came, it would rise again.
But what about him?
Every time he closed his eyes, he worried he might not open them the next morning.
Not a moment passed when his heart wasn't tormented by the fear of death.
He was in agony.
And that only made him yearn for the divine turtle all the more.
He had practically become obsessed with it. The divine turtle had become an obsession.
And an obsession...
Wasn't something you could easily let go of.
Even though the young man before him had told him again and again that the divine turtle was a monster, and its flesh would do nothing for his ailing body.
Even though the divine turtle—that monster—had told him with its own mouth that its flesh couldn't cure his terminal illness.
He still couldn't believe it.
Or rather, he didn't want to believe it.
He couldn't give up on his last hope without first seeing for himself that it would fail.
Besides, even if he did see it fail, so what?
Either way, he would die.
He didn't want to wait for death.
He just wanted to do everything in his power to stay alive.
Even if it meant clinging to life by a thread.
"Young man, I know that if