For War! For Myself!

Situ Xuan turned around and sat cross-legged in this pure white space.

His spirit body sat cross-legged in the void, legs folded, hands resting on his knees, palms facing upward. His back was perfectly straight, his head dipped slightly, and his eyes slowly closed.

He suppressed the combative urge inside him and convinced himself that now was the time to cultivate.

In this space, he was only a spirit body. Unable to temper his flesh, Situ Xuan could only sit quietly in meditation. He could not train his muscles in this space, could not refine his bones in this space, could not hone his fists and feet in this space.

There was only one thing he could do: polish his heart.

His breathing became long and even, and his heartbeat turned slow and powerful. His consciousness pulled away from his body, pulled away from the disturbances of the outside world, pulled away from every stray thought.

Time seemed impossible to sense. Situ Xuan's heart sank completely into the depths, as if without a single ripple, as if utterly silent.

In this space, there was no concept of time. Perhaps a day or two had passed, perhaps a month or two, perhaps a year or two.

There was no alternation of day and night in the pure white space, no changing of seasons, nothing that could be used to measure the passage of time.

Time lost its meaning here. It was no longer a linear flow, but a kind of motionless existence.

Situ Xuan continued to polish his heart.

Stillness.

All sounds fell silent, and all phenomena returned to quiet. There were no worldly thoughts to tangle him, no love, hate, anger, or folly; even the traces of flowing time slowly congealed in this moment. His consciousness was like a stagnant