Does the loss of something or someone significant impact you? Does it never go away? Or will it be lost to the sands of time forever?
No one will remember.
No one will ever care.
And no one will remember you for eternity.
Consider this: after your passing, as centuries unfold, even your descendants may forget you.
Your true nature and essence will be overshadowed by the opinions of the world.
Some argue that losing is crucial for mental growth, while others refuse to accept defeat. Their pride and ego create a powerful resistance that is deeply ingrained in their minds.
Some individuals may initially lack ego or pride, but eventually, these traits will emerge within their hearts and minds, flourishing like a tree in autumn.
Then why lose?
Why win?
Just why?
Ultimately, the world will forget everything, including those in your own lineage.
Then why does winning and losing hold no meaning?
However, if you're unconcerned about being forgotten in the future, direct your energy toward yourself and your ambitions to realize the greatness you aspire to achieve.
Some individuals may attribute their achievements to life's circumstances and fate, especially when they receive significant blessings like career opportunities and more.
But how about the unfortunate ones?
What did they receive?
A life in the streets, a life in the worst way?
The unfortunate souls endure torment, passing away alone in a cramped room, in a desolate alley, and amidst heartbreaking circumstances.
Fate governs all, wielding power over both fortune and misfortune, while instilling balance throughout the world.
Yet some unfortunate souls rise to the top, shattering the chains of fate that bind them; they struggle upwards, ultimately attaining true greatness.
History reveals that some unfortunate souls ascend to great heights, altering their destinies.
One word encapsulates it all: ambition. How did they reach the top? The rarest achievements often befall others; ambition is a journey where you may stumble at times, yet also have the potential to rise and reach extraordinary heights.
There's no holding you back from your ambitions.
You are free to proceed without any obstacles.
Ultimately, the power to stop yourself lies solely within you.
By looking within and embodying the greatness you aspire to see in the world, you can inspire change and transform the perspectives of those around you. With ambition and a keen intellect, anyone can achieve greatness by seizing opportunities wisely and making the most of them.
Pursue your aspirations relentlessly.
The decision lies within you: surrender or strive for a shot at greatness.
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Perched atop the mountain, Zhung gazed at the rising sun, taking in its magnificent ascent. A gentle breeze carried the autumn leaves downward, creating a tranquil dance around him.
As Zhung observed a woman walking along the road, his expression softened. He then began his descent down the mountain, still holding his injured left arm.
As Zheng Han swung open the door of the small hut, a sudden gust of wind played with her hair, creating a graceful scene. Zhung, spotting his mother at last, offered her a warm smile that breathed life into the previously cold, dreary space.
"Welcome back, Mother."
He said warmly.
Zheng Han's expression shifted from calm to one of horror as she noticed that Zhung's left arm was broken. Hastily setting down her ragged bag, she rushed to his side, anxiously examining the injury, only to feel the shattered bones beneath her touch.
"How did you?"
With a look of panic in her eyes, Zhung calmly explained that his injury came from a fall in the mountains. He concealed the truth—that he had lured the hunter as bait to obtain the beasts' demonic or divine blood—resulting instead in a vicious bite to his left arm from the creature's powerful jaws, leaving him with neither demonic nor divine blood.
As the autumn leaves cascade to the earth, one solitary leaf reaches the ground. Nearby, a striking young man with neatly tied brown hair stands with a broken arm, yet his gaze remains icy and distant as he looks up at the sky.
Noticing the clouds darkening overhead, he frowned and continued down the path. As he neared the end, he spotted fences surrounding a small but tidy hut. A smile slowly appeared on his otherwise expressionless face as he recognized his mother tending to the garden.
Time flew by in an instant. Despite the passage of eight years since Zhung was eight, he is now sixteen, and his left arm remains unhealed, with the broken bone still distinctly visible. Zheng Han, his mother, now boasts elegant streaks of silver in her hair, which add to her charm, even though she is still in her thirties. Zhung's life has been a picture of serenity, characterized by tranquility and devoid of strife.
Before entering the hut, he greeted his mother with a smile that quickly faded; his expression turned cold and distant as he gazed at a stack of books he contemplated opening.
*Even after eight years, I remained unable to obtain the blood of both the demonic and the divine.*
He grimaced at the memory of eight years of setbacks, trapped without the means to initiate his cultivation or unleash his true potential.
His gaze remained fixed on the sun, devoid of emotion, perpetually striving, and unyieldingly cold and distant, yet there was still nothing to lose.
He opened the drawer, retrieved the small pouch of coins, stepped outside, and transformed his expression into one of joy.
"Mom, I need to visit Black Water Village to pick up a few things."
His voice radiated warmth and joy.
His mother let out a worried sigh and gently kissed Zhung's forehead as if bestowing a charm of good luck. Moments later, Zhung woke, lifted his right arm, and his figure vanished into the embrace of the forest.
His expression turned icy, reverting to his typical mask of neutrality as he walked down the road. The leaves started to cascade to the ground as if Zhung were walking along the Broken Path.
As he entered the village of Black Water, he retraced familiar paths, strolled past the same shops, and wandered through the same spaces, all under the warm embrace of the sun, whose rays bathed the world in golden light.
He noticed a newly constructed tavern in Blackwater Village, piquing his curiosity despite the frown on his face. Before he could contain himself, he stepped inside, only to witness the window shatter.
He notices a lifeless body sprawled in a pool of blood on the cold wooden floor but dismisses it without a second thought, ordering a meal despite his own injured and broken left arm, indifferent to his plight.
As he ate his meal, he observed a variety of unfamiliar faces: a burly man, a rugged hunter, and most intriguing of all, a man in white robes whose striking elegance caught his attention. However, Zhung soon witnessed the transformation of the elegant man's face into one of grotesque beauty.
Zhung observes the once elegant man kicking the lifeless body and, in a fit of disgust, spits on it.
"How bold of you to accuse the Hang family."
Zhung had completed his assessment of the polished man, his disdain evident; to him, the man embodied a bully, exploiting the vulnerable. Satisfied, he slipped out of the tavern, a smile spreading across his face as he realized he had gathered all the information he needed.
The Black Water Village had turned into a hub for cultivators; however, Zhung's face suddenly twisted into a mask of disgust and indifference.
He felt the stirrings of a familiar name, "Hang," echoing deep within his heart.To him, it was a burden—a family name steeped in resentment, a relentless flame that refused to die out.
Walking on the road, he knew that he was mortal; there was no aperture, no will to be opened. Yet his gaze didn't falter even a little; it remained unmoved.
He walked on without pause, eventually reaching a cave embraced by vibrant green fields and towering trees. A gentle breeze swept through, leaving the cave in peaceful silence.
With a furrowed brow, Zhung stepped into the cave, uncertain of what had drawn him there. As he sparked the torch to life, its dancing flame cast light over the area, unveiling a deep chasm at the center of the cave. Zhung stared at the gaping chasm, his curiosity compelling him to draw closer.
He illuminated the hole, revealing its contents: a large white fox with two tails. Its expressionless gaze locked onto Zhung as it let out a haunting howl. Moments later, Zhung turned and walked away.
He eventually returned, pulling the lifeless body that had been abandoned in the woods from the tavern. Without a moment's hesitation, he tossed it into the pit, and the only sounds that filled the air were the sickening crunch of bones and the tearing of flesh.
He watched the creature's movements, remembering how, just a year ago at fifteen, he had cunningly lured an unsuspecting man into the forest to use as bait. Instead, that innocent soul had perished before Zhung's cold gaze.
He witnessed the beast sever the man's head with a swift motion. The creature, a rare snow moon fox-tailed with demonic lineage, was adorned with nine magnificent tails. After devouring its victim, it turned its lifeless gaze toward Zhung.
With a threatening growl, it lunged at Zhung, who cleverly evaded death by outwitting the creature and sending it tumbling into the depths of a cave.
He sighed in recollection, glancing at the beast's tail—still two. Frowning, he departed as the sun dipped below the horizon.
As he walked, clutching a bag of items, he reflected that this marked the beast's twelfth victim. The creature possessed only two tails; it had not grown a third. Had a third tail emerged, he would have already slain the beast to harvest its demonic blood.
Gazing at his still-injured left arm, he let out a sigh. Then his eyes fell upon the familiar fences—he was home at last. His expression softened as he spotted his mother standing at the door of their small hut.
She smiled as she waited for her son, Zhung, her gaze resting fondly on the familiar young man.
The two had a peaceful dinner that night.
The moon cast its gaze upon the world, shrouded in darkness that swallowed all light. Its silvery reflection danced upon the river's surface, while the mountains stood steadfast, draped in lush greenery. The autumn breeze gently swayed the falling leaves, creating a graceful ballet of nature.
**End of Chapter 8"