I decided to completely forget about my current situation. The progress of the descent, the time remaining, the routine I had so carefully planned—all of it vanished from my mind.
Truthfully, obsessing over every detail from beginning to end just wasn't my style. What suited me best was setting priorities and tackling obstacles one at a time.
The first thing I chose to focus on was revising the mind method. I wasn't using my breaks the way I had before. This time, I was going to see it through to the end.
Running out of time? It didn't matter. At my current pace, even 100 days of training wouldn't let me reach the ground.
Maybe I am being arrogant.
I planned to push my body to its limit, using recovery time to make further adjustments. It sounded efficient, but I couldn't be sure.
I was essentially revising Bai Luguang's martial art. It wasn't something that could be done with half-hearted effort.
I needed to return to the basics.
Before putting it into practice, I wanted to completely forget the version I'd painstakingly revised.
I started with the original method as if I were learning the First Fire Technique for the first time. Just because I let go of the changes didn't mean the time I spent on them was wasted.
I immersed myself in the First Fire Technique, gradually deepening my understanding of the mind method. Because of that, I came to appreciate the original's brilliance, even though I was simply memorizing it again.
The paths I once took for granted, the branching points, the circulation of internal energy and its distribution, and even the subtle tributaries—all had their reasons.
I see.
Until now, I had only understood this martial art by rote. Wonder had replaced admiration. I had thought the effect was possible because of this route.
Soon, the internal energy circulation was complete. For the first time in my life, I felt I had practiced the First Fire Technique in its entirety.
At the same time, a thought crossed my mind. Should I really be tampering with such a magnificent martial art?
If it was already a perfect creation, then adding or subtracting anything would only mar it.
Despite my doubts, I boldly revised the method again. It wasn't to help me descend the mountain. I wanted to prove I wasn't wrong. I wanted to prove that my direction in refining the method was correct, that my choice wasn't a mistake.
"One step at a time."
Those far ahead wouldn't even realize I was walking. Hell, they would not even see me.
Yet, I saw it clearly. I knew. I was moving forward, one step at a time—slowly, but steadily. That was enough for now.
***
Enlightenment didn't always come at once.
I stood there blankly when the cry of an unknown monster reached my ears. For the first time in a while, I became aware of the presence beside me.
"FAD?"
"Yes."
"What day is it?"
"It has been ninety days since you started the descent."
Less time had passed than I'd thought. I was certain it had been 100 days.
"Current Progress: 33.2%."
FAD's screen still displayed the progress, but I remained calm—not a trace of impatience. I nearly laughed but restrained myself. This was serious; I needed final confirmation.
I sat down, settling into the lotus position, and initiated the internal energy circulation. The Qi rose like flames from my dantian, and I guided its path, permitting no deviation as it spread through the twelve principal meridians, let alone the eight extraordinary ones.
The core of my new method wasn't to pass through the Baihui point. To maximize recovery using the First Fire Technique, the key was spreading the heat evenly throughout the body. Among all the organs, only the heart could fulfill this role.
My heart started pounding as if a small explosion had ignited within. The sensation soon transformed into flames coursing through my body—not unfolding, but expanding.
In the human body, certain areas were naturally dull to sensation. The buttocks, for example, were less sensitive to pain, and moving the toes was harder than moving the fingers. No matter how keen one's senses were, some muscles couldn't be controlled by will alone.
This energy circulation freed me from those constraints. Now, I could tear a muscle without lifting a finger, deliberately quicken my heartbeat, or even stop it.
At that moment, I felt a massive dam inside me collapse.
A hot breath escaped me as the dam collapsed. Breathing came easily now. It was as if my airways had been half-blocked my entire life, and I had finally broken through.
When I opened my eyes, the fog was clearer than usual, and I could even taste the air. My energy detection range had expanded at least threefold. My internal energy was still minimal, but I was confident I could use it better than anyone else.
"So that's how it is," I mumbled.
I realized my realm had advanced, and the First Fire Technique had reached the Second Stage. Like most mental techniques, the First Fire Technique had distinct stages, though their boundaries weren't as clear-cut.
My master had said that there were five stages in total and that I didn't need to rush. He had promised that I would naturally progress step by step when the time came.
"It isn't just a matter of increasing my internal energy."
To progress to the next stage, I needed to alter the existing structure.
Are there any other martial artists in the world as daring as me? I wondered. Then again, since the creator is Bai Luguang, the First Under Heaven, it makes sense. Maybe he has been aiming for this all along.
Suddenly, I recalled my first encounter with Kayan. Back then, I was weak and embarrassed by my lack of internal energy.
Things would be different now. I still faced disadvantages, but I no longer needed to obsess over internal energy or external attacks. A body with intact limbs was a blessing in itself.
I walked through the fog, feeling as though the constraints of Spirit Mountain had faded—though in truth, they hadn't. The pressure still remained.
If I feel this strong now, what will I be capable of once I leave Spirit Mountain and can fully unleash my strength? I shook my head. Um. Don't get excited.
"First, should I say congratulations?" Senior Brother Arang's voice came through FAD. "I expected some progress, but I didn't think you'd reach the Second Stage of the Supreme Art of All Time. The chances were slim."
"Really?"
Senior Brother Arang wasn't one to make empty remarks, so I felt a sense of pride.
"You can descend much faster now, but..." he hesitated.
"Will it still be hard?" I asked.
"Yes."
I sensed a subtle discomfort in his tone and attitude, so I asked, "Fourth Senior Brother, did you expect me to fail before I even started?"
Though phrased as a question, I asked it with a knowing undertone.
"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "It's not that I underestimated you. Spirit Mountain's true ordeal hasn't even begun."
As expected, there was more ahead.
"Altering the past is tempting, but I'd advise abandoning the idea now," he added.
I responded with a noncommittal hum, trudging toward the cliff's edge.
"Planning another shortcut? Unfortunately, my calculations already accounted for that," Senior Brother Arang said.
A shortcut... Not entirely wrong.
"Actually, I've considered this since my first jump. I never tried it before, but it might work now," I replied.
"What is it?" he asked.
Instead of answering, I demonstrated through action. I stepped into the empty air. Of course, my realm hadn't reached the level of Void Steps, and gravity quickly took hold, sending me plummeting. But while I couldn't walk on air, I could still use the sheer cliff to my advantage.
The sound of rocks scraping and tumbling filled the air as I descended.
This is more thrilling than I expected!
I couldn't tell if I was sprinting or simply tumbling. My legs, racing forward, felt almost out of control, yet my gaze stayed fixed ahead.
The fog obscures my vision.
Still, I had no intention of charging all the way to the base in one go. Why attempt something so reckless when I knew how much time I had left?
"Luan, this is dangerous!" Senior Brother Arang's voice was uncharacteristically urgent.
I shouted back as I kept running, "Why? Can't I make it in time even if I run like this?"
"In theory, yes—the shortest path is a straight line," he replied. "But this route is perilous."
"Spirit Mountain is dangerous by nature!" I retorted.
"That's not what I mean. Even with your enhanced abilities, sprinting nonstop to the bottom is impossible. You'll exhaust yourself before you make it," he explained.
He was probably right. However, I had already devised a way to rest.
As fatigue set in, I channeled strength into my steps. After a dozen strides, my legs anchored into the mountainside like roots, my calves digging into the slope.
Leaning awkwardly against the incline, I caught my breath.
It was ridiculous, but so what? I was satisfied—I had found a way to rest.
"See? Now, I can take breaks whenever I want. Kind of genius, right?" I said smugly.
Senior Brother Arang sighed, then muttered, "You really are Master's disciple."
Somehow, it didn't sound like a compliment.