When I first heard the question, I was stunned into silence. Words escaped me, and as I struggled to grasp for a response, he struck again with another question—his voice calm, yet piercing like a blade sliding effortlessly through silk.
"For what do you think people cultivate?"
I hesitated, searching within myself for an answer that felt true. After a moment's pause, I said slowly,
"For power. For status. For thousands of years of lifespan—what some call Eternal life."
Even as I spoke, a quiet longing stirred in my heart. A yearning for that same fate I'd just described. But fate… fate had its own plans. And mine had chosen to bind me to him. I sighed, as of thinking about this misfortune.
He gave a slight nod, and with a voice filled with disappointment, yet said with profound clarity, my master replied,
"They don't understand the Dao. A true cultivator would never be shackled by power, status, or mortal desires."
Then, his eyes met mine, sharp and unwavering.
"And eternal life… Do you know what that truly is?"
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, the kind that hinted he already knew the answer I was about to give—and that it would be wrong.
I answered plainly, without thinking too hard.
"Eternal life means immortality. What else could it be?"
He asked again, more pointedly now,
"Then tell me, how does one gain eternal life?"
I said.
"By reaching the end of cultivation. How else?"
He shook his head slowly, the motion filled with quiet sorrow.
"Remember this, kid—
There is no end to cultivation. How can something boundless have an end? Any cultivator who believes they've reached the peak is merely another frog who's leapt from one well into another—still trapped, still ignorant, only now more deeper in illusion."
Then, he said,
"What makes someone Eternal is not talent, nor cultivation level, nor background. It is mindset—and the perseverance to walk this path endlessly, no matter the pain, no matter the loss."
His gaze was fixed on me. I didn't speak. But something inside me stirred—a shift, subtle but undeniable. His words struck like a bell within my soul.
He continued,
"The first step of cultivation is forging the Dao Heart. On this path, your Dao Heart will be your only eternal companion. All others will come and go—fickle, selfish, temporary for their benefits. The greatest enemy a cultivator faces is not some powerful foe, but himself. His own weak heart, swayed by the outside world, lost to illusions, deviated from the true Dao. He believes he has ascended—when in truth, he has simply become another fool in yet another trap."
He paused, his voice softening.
"What I'm doing now… is forging your Dao Heart, kid. Be grateful."
The last words lit a fire within me. I met his eyes with a challenging glare and snapped,
"Grateful? I don't think my gratitude will help you in your journey. Let's see if you live long enough to finish your own."
For the first time, I saw him smile—faint, amused, but not mocking. He turned his full gaze to me. I had never dared to challenge him before. But in that moment, I was fearless. Even of death.
He chuckled softly.
"Oh? Such confidence, from one who is but an ant. Fearlessness in the face of death is admirable... but too much of it is fatal."