"Afraid?"
Qi Yun looked at the Elder Master's withered profile, a hint of surprise on his face.
"Mm," the Elder Master affirmed. His gaze remained fixed on the depths of the mountain cave, where strange phenomena roiled. His voice was as placid as a still lake, as if he were recounting a story that had nothing to do with him.
"Afraid that I wouldn't succeed. Afraid that a lifetime of effort would go to waste. Afraid that my master would perish because of it. Afraid that this time… I would choose wrong again…"
His expression was impassive, yet every word carried a silent, crushing weight.
Perhaps, from the moment he learned he had gone astray, his Dao Foundation damaged, the seeds of self-doubt and denial had taken root deep in his heart.
And so, when he truly faced the unfathomable path of changing his Dao Foundation—a path where one wrong step meant utter annihilation of body and soul—
he hesitated. He was afraid.
