Chapter Nineteen: Endure—Once You Get Through, Everything Will Be Fine

"Ha!" All at once, in the midst of Song Hai’s astonishment and the collective shock of those gathered atop the cliff, Zhou Yi let out a sudden, thunderous shout. From his eyes burst forth a radiant, almost divine light; the slumped and battered figure of moments before transformed instantly, brimming with tension and energy.

Boom!

Zhou Yi held his breath, marshaling every ounce of his essence and spirit, his muscles drawn taut as bowstrings, his steps heavy as mountains. Each stride pressed into the earth as if treading through deep mud, every movement dense with a crushing weight.

“How can this be?”

On the cliff, the onlookers were all dumbfounded by Zhou Yi’s actions. Unlike Song Hai, who was lost in confusion, they understood all too well the implications of what they were witnessing. They could not divine Zhou Yi’s intent, but they knew well the consequence such actions would bring.

Everyone knew: habit and stability could, to some extent, dull pain—much like how a basin of scalding water hurts unbearably at first, but if you submerge your feet and endure the initial agony, the pain eases as you grow accustomed to it. The one condition: you must not move; you must maintain your equilibrium, allow your body to acclimate to the temperature. A single shift, the slightest disturbance, and the torment would return, sharper than ever.

Zhou Yi’s current actions were precisely such a disturbance. His body, accustomed to this particular pain, had its fragile balance shattered by his sudden exertion, and the pain that followed surged to an intensity many times greater.

Previously, though Zhou Yi had appeared miserable, none doubted he would make it through—his body had grown used to the suffering. But now, he had undone himself.

With the agony magnified a thousandfold, not a soul believed Zhou Yi could survive this stretch.

“What does he think he’s doing?” the big-bearded man growled in frustration, his heart aching at the sight.

“Prepare to rescue him,” the sect master intoned gravely, drawing a deep breath. He could not fathom Zhou Yi’s reasoning, but it did not matter; the dangers were clear enough.

In theory, the wind passage posed no mortal peril, but under certain circumstances, pain alone could kill a man.

Ordinarily, the pain within the wind passage was intense, but some mysterious force kept it precisely at the limit of what an entrant could bear—excruciating, but never fatal. Thus, throughout history, no one had ever suffered injury in the wind passage—there were only those who withdrew, unable to bear it, and those who endured and passed through.

But today, it seemed, that record was about to be broken.

To the onlookers, Zhou Yi’s actions were tantamount to courting death. His motives no longer mattered—what mattered was that if they did not intervene, he might not live.

“Be ready.”

Everyone felt a pang of sorrow for Zhou Yi; his persistence moved them deeply. But there were things in this world for which perseverance alone would never suffice.

Talent—this, truly, was the greatest unfairness.

With heavy sighs, the crowd shifted anxiously, their eyes fixed on Zhou Yi, ready to rush to his aid the instant he faltered.

...

“Ah!”

At the very first movement, a pain far deeper and more searing than anything before exploded through his body, and Zhou Yi could not help but cry out. In truth, it was beyond endurance; the moment the pain struck, every thought in his mind was erased.

Endure? The notion itself never even surfaced.

“Hold on!” Though he screamed for a moment, Zhou Yi, through sheer indomitable will, forced his mind back to clarity, steadying his wavering thoughts.

“Almost there, just a little longer!” Striding forward in great, trembling steps, his body shuddered violently; each movement threatened to spiral out of control as the pain clung to him like a shadow, his consciousness blurred, sustained only by the last dregs of his resolve.

Wasn’t he short two points of energy? He just needed to find them!

Kinetic energy, wasn’t it? He just needed to move more, more vigorously!

Wasn’t the conversion rate low? He would generate more kinetic force—surely that would yield more energy!

So simple!

Zhou Yi fully understood the consequences of his actions. Having lived in an age of information overload, what could he not understand? Yet still he chose this path. For he knew not where else to find those missing two points of energy.

This environment, for all its torment, was a blessing in disguise. It brought him endless pain, but also endless kinetic energy.

Had he tried this elsewhere, it would have accomplished nothing; but here, it was enough—provided he could withstand the pain.

“Hold on!” Zhou Yi gritted his teeth, refusing to yield. Just a bit more—he glanced sidelong at his status panel. Energy: ninety-nine. Just one point more, and he would reach a hundred, completing the first metamorphosis of his cells.

“One of the two points has already been integrated; the task is half done!”

All that remains is to endure a little longer—then the task will be fulfilled, one hundred percent.

Zhou Yi’s muddled thoughts rang faintly in his mind as he pressed onward, each step forward deliberate and unyielding, his last reserves of willpower holding his body together, his pace never faltering.

There are so many painful things in this world, so many obstacles we cannot seem to pass. But we cannot choose to give up every time we encounter hardship. So often, just holding on a little longer is enough to see us through.

The eagle soars across the endless blue sky, mastering the heavens—yet in the end, it too is conquered. To tame an eagle, one must outlast it.

Life, too, is about endurance. No matter what comes, do not give up, do not despair—persist, endure, and you will prevail.

“So, just a little longer.”

“I can do this.”

“Ah!” Zhou Yi’s voice was frail with pain, his cries as thin as a mosquito’s buzz. He saw Song Hai’s worried face close by, standing near but not daring to approach.

Song Hai could not understand what drove Zhou Yi to such lengths, to such persistence—what was it all for? Yet he did understand one thing: at this moment, there was nothing he needed to do or comprehend. All that mattered was to stay by Zhou Yi’s side.

“Wait!” On the cliff, Zhou Yi’s feeble cries rang in everyone’s ears like thunderbolts. Zhong Rui and Gen clenched their fists, about to leap down to help, when a voice suddenly halted them.

“Hm?” The crowd turned to the sect master, their faces tense with anxiety and confusion.

“Look at that boy,” the sect master said, his gaze fixed intently on Zhou Yi’s face.

“He hasn’t given up.” The sect master’s words hit like a thunderclap, drawing all eyes to Zhou Yi’s twisted, tormented, disheveled face. Beneath the pain and contortion, there was something more—a fierce determination. Every pore seemed to radiate a single message: Persevere.

“If he has not chosen to give up, why should we make that choice for him?”