For the next several days, Lucas buried himself in his work, pushing aside every distraction in pursuit of the mysteries of space and time. The work was exhausting, more demanding than any duel or test of martial skill he had faced, but Lucas felt himself growing sharper, his understanding deepening in ways that words could barely capture.
The days stretched together until ten had passed, though it scarcely felt like time at all. On the seventh day, when his body threatened to give out from weakness, he had eaten two apples, and that was all the nourishment he allowed himself for the entirety of his seclusion. Everything else came from the flow of Qi, the clarity of his focus, and the occasional sip of water to keep his throat from burning dry. His reflection in the polished bronze mirror that hung near his worktable grew leaner, his eyes more sunken, but they glowed with a quiet fire, proof of how far he had come.
