Loneliness

The man nodded.

His movement was very slow, so slow it was like watching a scene slowed down countless times. But that slowness was not weakness, not dullness, but composure, the kind of composure one could only possess after experiencing endless years. He did not need to hurry, did not need to rush, because time had already lost its meaning to him.

"For battle, for myself." He repeated Situ Xuan's words, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Four words that lay bare the obsession of your entire life. Battle means seeking outward, fighting against the heavens, the earth, and men. Self means seeking inward, guarding your original heart, your true self, your nature. One outward and one inward, one hard and one soft; only when they complement each other can the Great Dao be achieved."

A glimmer flashed through Situ Xuan's eyes. This man did not say much, but every word was like a key, opening certain long-sealed doors in his heart.

"You see things quite clearly."

The man gave a soft laugh, and there was an indescribable bitterness in it.

"So what if I see things clearly? Between knowing the truth and being able to live by it lies a chasm. Some people exhaust their entire lives and still cannot cross it. Some exhaust their entire lives and cannot even find the direction in which to cross. Some find the direction, but lack the strength to continue. To possess direction, strength, and determination all at once—one in ten thousand at best."

He paused, those eyes covered in deep-blue soul light lingering on Situ Xuan for a long time.

"Do you think you are that one in ten thousand?"

Situ Xuan did not answer.

He looked at the man, the fighting intent in his eyes growing stronger and stronger.