An hour had passed, he hadn’t moved.
Two hours had passed, he still hadn’t moved.
Just like that, trapped here for a day, Xu Xiaoshou felt a bit parched. From beginning to end, he hadn’t moved.
"Damn!"
Xu Xiaoshou’s state of mind was slightly unbalanced.
Quickly, he cald down again; after all, it was just imprisonnt.
Back then, beyond the first door, the Ti Ancestor Kong Yuhen’s head had slightly moved, proving that as long as he persevered, he could manage to turn around.
It’s just...
"It needs ti!"
Xu Xiaoshou had no idea how long that ti would be.
He was anxious about the Bazhun’an of the All Ti Forgotten Sorrow Pavilion and perhaps having to wait longer in vain, and also worried about the situation on the Shengshen Continent. Would the Third Ancestor have already succeeded by the ti he got out?
"Haste makes waste."
Xu Xiaoshou reassured himself, set aside everything external, and devoted himself entirely to the "turn-around."
A day passed...
Two days passed...
A week passed...
A month passed...
"Damn!"
Xu Xiaoshou lost control again.
His eyes were on the verge of tearing apart, yet he still couldn’t complete the turn-around; he couldn’t even move his skin and flesh. It was tornting.
"Hua Changdeng..."
"Demon Ancestor, dicine Ancestor, Cursed Yin..."
One demon after another, baring its fangs and brandishing its claws, transford into mountain after mountain, heavily pressing down on his shoulders.
The sound of water gushing continuously behind him, but what exactly it was, he couldn’t see at all—is it really the river of ti?
Maybe it’s ghosts.
Maybe there are ghosts riding on his neck.
Perhaps they, the divine, were gripping him so tightly from behind, unwilling to let him return.
"Hoo!"
Xu Xiaoshou took a deep breath once more and then closed his eyes.
His consciousness seed to retreat to his forr self on a sickbed, smiling again.
"At least, I can hold on for three years."
Three years passed...
Five years passed...
Ten years passed...
When Xu Xiaoshou felt he had let go, his spirit violently erupted, the buried anxiety burst forth like a flood breaching a dam.
It turned out, he had never let go.
"Don’t let know who it is, or they shall be killed!"
Xu Xiaoshou howled hoarsely, and after a pause, he let out a slightly manic laugh.
Perhaps he could no longer return.
He hadn’t given up, still attempting to turn little by little, but it was not limited to just trying to turn around.
Listening to the sound of water rushing behind him, he began to ntally practice the fad sword skill. Ti waits for no one, he must cultivate.
Only through achieving Dao could this situation possibly be broken!
"Bestowed fa like water..."
Water benefits all things without contention, and it is precisely in non-contention that nothing suffers.
Going with the flow is perhaps the only thing he can do at the mont.
In the predicant, he began cultivating a na and practicing swordsmanship.
He listened to the sound of water, hearing the waves, the floods, the tides, and felt the surging in his heart.
A hundred years passed.
The water of the river of ti behind him seed to have passed the flood stage, returning to the gentle sound of a spring, that was the river, the creek, it was the tranquility of self.
Two hundred years passed.
Xu Xiaoshou felt he had finished cultivating his na, nothing more to cultivate.
His attention returned to the "turn-around"; at this mont, though he had persisted, his body hadn’t moved a bit.
"I, shall be lost..."
As he realized he might be like the Ti Ancestor, like Kong Yuhen, lost in the plight of facing away from the river of ti.
In a mont, whether an illusion or the result of persistence, Xu Xiaoshou sensed his eyelid twitch.
"It moved?!"
He was overjoyed, then returned to tranquility.
This first movent in over two hundred years, even if real, the external world should have undergone significant changes and upheavals.
After all, in the past, it took him only a year and a half to start his journey.
Bazhun’an, from glory to decline, and the journey of cultivating, only took thirty or fifty years.
For the Ancestral God, the variables in two hundred years were too many!
"Do nothing."
"And nothing is left undone."
Xu Xiaoshou would not allow himself to continue indulging in wild thoughts.
He continued to cultivate, listening to the water behind him as waves surged once more, lightly laughing as he locked away his past self.
He would not get lost.
He fortified himself.
If this was a predicant, a ga by Ti and Nu, going with the flow was the only strategy to break it.
Here, he would temper himself, hone his will, until one day, whether by turning around or achieving Godhood-Sealing and Ancestor, he would defeat unseen enemies and overco himself.
By then, he might have forgotten the past, forgotten the present, forgotten himself, but as long as the sealed mories opened, he believed he would rember the "purpose" of that ti:
He wanted to get out.
He wanted to leave the All Ti Forgotten Sorrow Pavilion.
He wanted to go back to find Bazhun’an, to lend a helping hand, even if it ant traversing back through the river of ti.
"Justice might be delayed, but I, Xu Xiaoshou, will not be late."
"No one can twist my will, neither illness nor confinent, not even the Ancestral God."
Fortunately, the Will Dao Disc had already reached Super Taoization.
Xu Xiaoshou sealed his past self, fearing he would truly be lost.
Once again listening to the sound of the river of ti, he fell into silence, began contemplating the Dao, contemplated the na, and then thought about "."
"Discern myself..."
A thousand years passed.
In fact, Xu Xiaoshou no longer rembered ti, nor bothered to calculate it.
Yet he abruptly pulled away from "," because he moved again, he could feel it, that nonexistent body, his finger moved.
"My will, could already penetrate the intangible shackles, touching my soul, my body."
"Even if this world isolated the connection between and , segregating Body, Spirit, and Will, constructed by the Power of Divinity, I could already barely break through. Success was within reach."
"I have grown stronger..."
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