Chen Changsheng sat down cross-legged and began speaking with the cultivator.

“It feels like forever since I last spoke to anyone. Ten years have passed in the blink of an eye.”

“What about him?”

“Him…”

This referred to the disheveled man by the wooden hut.

Yi Zuqian said, “He washed up on this island seven years ago, likely swept here by stormy seas. I saved his life and talked with him plenty back then.”

“But after a year, he went mad.”

Chen Changsheng paused. “Mad?”

He glanced at the man gnawing on a fish. He didn’t seem crazed.

Chen Changsheng said, “For someone like us, curing such madness shouldn’t be too hard.”

Yi Zuqian nodded. “True. But not treating him is kinder. If he regained his senses after going mad in just one year, how would he endure the next six alone?”

“It’s his fate. He faced sea disasters seeking immortality, found the path, but couldn’t bear the solitude. He lacks the Immortal Fate. So while pitiable, there’s little actual pity to spare.”

This wasn’t cultivators being cold.

Yi Zuqian spoke facts.

That ragged man truly lacked the gift and the resolve. Nothing worthy of pity.

Yi Zuqian had been merciful enough.

Chen Changsheng asked, “Daoist friend, should we later return him to the Mortal World or to the Cultivation World?”

“Though untalented, reaching here was still providence. When leaving, we’ll take him aboard. Only by realizing his limits will he truly quit. Return him to the Mortal World, and he’d search this way again.”

Yi Zuqian smiled wryly. “Call him persistent—he journeyed nine hundred miles through mountains and seas. Call him weak-willed—he lost his mind after one year here.”

Chen Changsheng said, “Perhaps this solitude was too much to endure.”

“Perhaps.”

Chen Changsheng looked at him. “And you? On this desolate isle these ten years, did time ever confuse you?”

Yi Zuqian answered, “Confused? Often. Sometimes staring at the rising sun, marveling how small I was beneath Heaven and Earth. Sometimes lost in wild thoughts, carried away.”

Yi Zuqian smiled. “But isn’t this the very essence of Cultivation?”

“I often feel this is Cultivation destined to be endured. Years. Trials. Refining heart and body. An inevitable stretch of my path, not mere chance.”

Being stranded here ten years—he treated it as silent Cultivation. Watching sunsets, like a grain in a vast sea.

Many such bloody decades might pass on his Cultivation path, but this one would stay sharpest.

Chen Changsheng said, “Like a mayfly drifting under Heaven and Earth. A grain in the vast sea. Even cultivators remain tiny before Creation. Your journey held true worth.”

Yi Zuqian drifted off, muttering, “A grain in the vast sea…”

“Profound. Profound!”

They exchanged smiles. Yi Zuqian now accepted this cultivator from the “Mortal World.”

Night fell.

Chen Changsheng sat on a reef, gazing at distant swirling stars. Then he lay down, fixed on the sky.

As if he alone existed in creation.

Ocean waves rustled in his ears.

Humans—small. Immortals—small.

Mayflies alike.

Chen Changsheng was small.

Like sand in the wind.

Truly, as that Daoist friend said—this was Cultivation.

Chen Changsheng closed his eyes. Lying on the reef, he seemed asleep.

Above this lonely sea.

Chen Changsheng dreamed a Great Dream. Dreamt himself wildly drunk, drifting on turbulent waters. Buffeted endlessly, he lay in the boat, feeling raging waves.

He drank cloudy wine, eyed boundless Creation.

Like one tiny boat pressing down a galaxy.

That long night. Forged through Cultivation.

…

“Daoist friend!”

Dawn brought thick fog, shrinking the world.

Yi Zuqian’s call awakened Chen Changsheng.

Yi Zuqian smiled warmly. “The Sky Skiff approaches, Daoist friend. It’s time to depart.”

Yi Zuqian’s Cultivation ended.

Chen Changsheng’s Great Dream ended too.

Yi Zuqian said, “Daoist friend grasped insights dreaming. Truly remarkable.”

Chen Changsheng clasped his hands. “Not compared to your fleeting decade.”

“After you!”

“You first!”

Through the mist, a massive Sky Skiff appeared.

Sails showed upon the sea.

“Dong!”

An ancient bell tolled from the Sky Skiff.

Someone leaned over the rail. Eyes swept the pier below, spotting three figures waiting.

“Returning to passengers? Impossible.”

The cultivator aboard felt stunned. The Sky Skiff sailed once every ten years. Boardings here were unheard of.

“A true rarity.”

Not just boarding passengers. This trip also carried many cultivators heading to the Mortal World.

Chen Changsheng found this odd. “Daoist friend, you told me few cultivators visit that realm?”

Yi Zuqian studied the figures crowding the deck.

Yi Zuqian said, “Their robes suggest Immortal Mountain disciples. Perhaps visiting the Mortal World on business.”

Behind them stood the shabby man.

His eyes held emptiness, watching the giant Sky Skiff. Thoughts unknown.

Years of loneliness and cold had crushed him. Madness took words too.

A cry rang from the Sky Skiff.

“Senior Brother Yi! Senior Brother Yi, is it you?!”

Yi Zuqian got recognized.

Shouts came from Lingyue Immortal Isle cultivators aboard. One leaped down excitedly.

Fellow disciples met—talk flowed.

“Senior Brother, after that sea monster struck and we escaped, we found you missing! Searched many trips but found nothing. We thought you…”

“Why didn’t you send word?”

Yi Zuqian explained, “Too gravely injured. No choice.”

Gesturing, he added, “This is Daoist Friend Chen.”

“Daoist Friend Chen.”

Chen Changsheng bowed politely. Looking up, he asked, “Many cultivators bound for the Mortal World this time?”

“Most seek traces of Evil Spirits.”

“I see.”

Chen Changsheng dropped questioning.

“What Evil Spirits?” Yi Zuqian inquired.

His Junior Brother then detailed matters concerning the Spirit Cage.

Yi Zuqian showed surprise. Never imagined such a place existed.

“Senior Brother, Daoist Friend Chen, board the Sky Skiff now.”