Hou Niao finally understood his predicament, but even he had no idea what good that understanding would do him.
Other than destroying his confidence, it seemed to offer nothing else.
Every realm had its own tasks. Why did cultivation have to proceed one step at a time? Why did the Xiuzhen world always take such a cautious, conservative attitude toward so-called geniuses?
Why did the Daoist Sect always advance in orderly stages? Why did the Buddhist Sect always follow the rules? It was all for this very reason.
A child ought to play with toys. If he insisted on doing an adult's work, the outcome was easy to imagine.
These taboos had been distilled from the countless failures of countless predecessors in the Xiuzhen world, eventually forming the framework of the present Xiuzhen cultivation system. It ensured that the vast majority of cultivators would advance step by step within a framework where breakthroughs were possible, rather than reaching beyond their grasp and trying to grow fat on a single mouthful.
It was not that Hou Niao did not understand this. From the day he first entered cultivation, every overview in the Dao Registers he had read had mentioned it: do not force what does not belong to your realm, and do not always dream of reaching heaven in a single stride.
This world had no shortage of people who supposedly saw through heaven's secrets. Yet precisely because their thinking ran too far ahead while their bodies and cultivation realms could not keep pace, they could not escape a bleak and miserable end, inevitably wasting their lives.
He understood all the reasoning, but when it came to his own cultivation, how many people could truly keep themselves entirely within that framework? When a so-called opportunity appeared, who would not throw themselves