1300 Deafening
Ryu unleashed a roar. His mind felt like it was being shredded to pieces, a large surge of energy building up like a ticking time bomb within his Spiritual Sea.
Mae's Primordial Yin was on its own rampage. Unable to get at Ryu's other Primordial Yins immediately, it shifted its attention to his actual Spiritual Sea, soaking up the excess Spiritual Qi in the region as though a greedy beast that couldn't be satiated, Ryu could even feel that he was quickly losing Focus Qi, something that he was only vaguely aware of, and yet extremely shocked about nonetheless.
He had never heard of something that could eat up Focus Qi on its own. Focus Qi was an intangible thing, as far as Ryu understood. He didn't have a spot in his body where it was stored and its amount seemed to be inextricably linked to the Spiritual Qi in this body. While it was impossible for him to train it directly, at least not without copious amounts of time, so long as he strengthened his soul, he still had a chance.
But right now, Mae's Primordial Yin was targeting even it, making his will to fight back, which had been diminishing to begin with, sink into further and further depravity.
Now that Ryu thought about it, how did the Prayer Mat work? If it was impossible to target Focus Qi directly, how was it that it seemed the Prayer Mat could extend his Focus Qi into infinity. If not for his eyes still being sealed, he would never have to worry about his Focus Qi draining again.
But now, the answer to that matter didn't seem to make a difference in the slightest. This new additional stressor to his body was just an insult atop of injury. He already couldn't handle the pressure of the stairs alone, let alone an additional matter after his life on top of all that.
He just felt tired.
The Dao Heart was another odd quirk of nature. Much like Focus Qi, it didn't seem to have a physical form, and yet it was extraordinarily important. It was the core of one's being, the only thing that absolutely everyone had. Whether you had formed a Dao or not, a Dao Heart existed. It was just that once a Dao had been formed, it became its core, tying its existence to that of one's cultivation and making it inextricably linked to one's future progress.
However, much like Focus Qi, there didn't seem to be levels or a way to properly gauge. Ryu felt that his Dao Heart was powerful, but he didn't have a metric to measure it up against. And, seeing its performance now in the face of the pressure of a mere lower level Sky God, he felt that it was laughable that he had thought it to be powerful in the first place.
But at the same time, he vaguely found it odd.
He had never felt pressure by those more powerful than him, he had always been able to ignore them entirely. But if his Dao Heart was so weak in the face of them, how was that even possible? It seemed to suggest that there was something about Dao Hearts that he was missing, something that went beyond just the standard definition most held for it. If not, things wouldn't add up properly.
Unfortunately, Ryu couldn't even think clearly right now as his Focus Qi rapidly drained. All he could think about was the fact that this was still the first step of thousands more. He couldn't even survive this one, even if by some miracle he managed to take a second, what would change? Just the challenge ahead made him feel as though it was best to just let go.
But something in him refused to.
He knew what it was, even in his current state. It wasn't pride, it wasn't arrogance... It was just habit.
Ryu didn't know why he knew the answer so clearly. He couldn't think of anything else properly at the moment, but for some reason this thought in particular was so clear and fresh, as though someone was whispering into his ear.
But what did it mean... habit...?
Ryu wasn't able to let go and release like others would simply because he wasn't use to doing so. His muscle memory seemed to be working on its own, but this time it was as though the muscle was his will itself, something that made even less sense to him.
It slowly sunk in for Ryu. He had already given up, but his instincts were keeping him tethered to this step, as though it wouldn't allow him to give in until he had given it everything he had.
It was truly fascinating. Will could be built like this as well?
But when he pondered about it, it made sense. Whenever one stopped once, it was all too easy to stop again, and then again. A runner who was just starting off on their first mile might be greatly motivated in the start, only to begin to break down after the first lap. At that point, some might continue to push themselves, while others might slow to a walk, catching their breath before continuing again.
One might think that the one that took a small break before starting up again was the less likely of the two to stop again, but the brain was an peculiar thing. It wasn't in your brain's best interest for you to propel your body. It wanted you to relax, to keep yourself out of danger, to pass on your genes silently and then die a peaceful death.
So if you halted once, you would be likely to stop again, and then again.
The words again resounded in Ryu's mind. He felt as though the word habit was the only thing that he could focus on. He had built a certain habit, a habit of pressing forward. If he inverted that habit now, if he took a single step back, he would find himself crushed by a new habit.
A habit all too willing to give up.
Ryu's voice resounded in a roar. He gathered up all the power he had left and took a second step.
CRACK!
The echo was deafening.
The moment his second step landed, he was blown backward, collapsing onto the ground.
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