In the vast, indistinct void, Zhang Tie's spiritual energy tirelessly repeated that utterly tedious cultivation process...
The process was monotonous enough to drive anyone mad. Zhang Tie continuously gathered the two strands of energy within the void, then, once they had been gathered, continuously allowed them to dissipate naturally. This was not repeated ten or eight times, but thousands upon thousands of times, until Zhang Tie's mind had gone completely numb, until everything had become instinct and mechanical reaction—yet it continued.
Zhang Tie hoped that one day, when he wielded those two strands of energy, he could do so as freely as breathing.
To achieve that goal, he had to make the process as simple as breathing.
That required cultivation—grueling training. Only by repeating something countless times could one improve by the slightest bit. And in such training, the only companions one had were solitude and emptiness.
There were few fair things in this world. Perhaps the only truly fair thing was time. Time was the same for everyone: when you lived through a day, so did everyone else. The only difference was what you watered with that time. Given enough time, whatever you watered would take root, sprout, grow, flourish with branches and leaves, bloom with corresponding flowers, and bear corresponding fruit. Some fruits were good, some evil; some beautiful, some ugly; some sweet, some bitter...
In every field, there were experts, and so-called experts were absolutely those who had poured the most time into that field.
This was Zhang Tie's first true closed-door seclusion since arriving in the Sky-Piercing Realm.
During this seclusion, Zhang Tie forgot time and the turmoil of the outside world. He immersed himself wholly in cultivation, until the jade tablet he carried began to vibrate rhythmically. Only then did Zhang Tie emerge from that