For the next several days, Dai Youheng appeared at the Princess's Mansion punctually, as unfailingly as a wound-up puppet, come thunder or lightning.
His routine, however, quietly changed. Gone was his earlier balance of exertion and rest; instead, he plunged into an almost self-abusive frenzy.
At the first glimmer of dawn, he buried himself in the meditation chamber, circulating his soul power without pause. Even at lunchtime, when the maids knocked repeatedly to urge him out, he turned a deaf ear, as though the world of meditation were his only refuge.
After a brief rest in the afternoon, he took the vicious Tyrant Tiger Soul Refining Blade into the courtyard again. Blade light flashed and the wind shrieked. He refused to stop until he had wrung out his last thread of soul power and exhausted every ounce of strength. Often, night had already fallen by the time he dragged his nearly collapsed body back to the hotel, stumbling all the way.
At first, Xu Jiujiu and Manyi found this display of resilience heartening, believing he was turning grief and anger into strength. Soon, however, Xu Jiujiu realized something was wrong. His training had gone beyond all reasonable bounds, carrying a reckless obsession with quick results, heedless of the consequences. There were even faint signs that his cultivation was spiraling out of control.
"Youheng." That day, Xu Jiujiu finally could not hold back. After he sheathed his blade in utter exhaustion once again, she stopped him. Looking at his pale, sweat-soaked cheeks and the lingering red in his eyes, she spoke with deep concern. "Cultivation requires a balance between tension and release. You've gone too far these past few days. Keep this up, and you'll collapse before you can avenge them. Take tomorrow off. I'll take you out for a walk