In the end, his gaze fell upon that stone wall.
His fingertip lightly traced across those shallow sword marks.
Every single mark represented a bout of sweat, a moment of insight, a single yearning for strength!
Things remain, people have changed.
The yearning of those years was for the sake of being a Guardian.
Yet the strength of today carries too much upon it, and has destroyed too much.
He slowly closed his eyes and sat cross-legged upon that dust-covered meditation cushion.
Hum!
An invisible aura, with him at its center, slowly spread out.
It was not done deliberately, but was the Power within his body, vast as the starry sea of the Cosmos, naturally flowing as it soothed his Dao wounds.
The dust within the cave abode was swept up by this aura and instantly vanished without a trace; the entire cave abode became free of even a speck of dust, regaining a faint semblance of how it had once been.
Yet that silent flavor of "years" hanging in the air grew even denser.
