Life does not reveal its beauty on the days when everything is in bloom.
When we are young, we think beauty is only the sunshine's glow and the perfume of spring flowers.
But life smiles in silence as we walk along.
It waits.
It waits for the rainy days, for the unexpected goodbyes, for the nights when the heart feels as heavy as if it carried the weight of a thousand mountains.
Because it is only after the storm
that someone realizes how gentle the warmth of a small flame can be.
It is only after getting lost
that a simple road becomes the most beautiful of destinations.
It is only after crying
that a genuine smile carries the value of an entire world.
Youth looks at the sky and thinks it has always been blue.
But those who have truly lived look at the same sky and remember all the times
it was covered in clouds.
And yet… it remained there.
Vast.
Patient.
Silently beautiful.
Life is like that.
It is not the eternal spring we imagined when we had not yet walked very far.
It is spring, summer, autumn, and winter.
It is the flower that blooms knowing one day it will fall.
It is the weary traveler who finds a small light burning at the end of a long road.
It is the hand that holds another for just a brief moment before the paths diverge.
And, strangely… it is precisely because everything is so brief that it becomes so precious.
That is why only those who have truly lived
can understand.
That the beauty of life does not lie in lasting forever.
But in existing even while knowing that one day it will end.
This poem was born along its own journey, where it learned more about life and about itself. It had never really been a fan of poems or words of wisdom meant to enlighten others, but it discovered that poetry was an effective way to express complicated feelings that otherwise could not be articulated. It was not sure if it was "good" at it, but since it was only a small hobby, other people's opinions mattered little. For it, what mattered was the sincerity with which it could translate its thoughts into words. The poem ended up becoming one of the main tools for its introspections over the past year…
Over the last year, much had changed in its life. It began its journey across the Azure Cloud Continent, disguised as an ordinary mortal, opening its mind and heart to learn from every experience. It came to live in a village near a small town, in a simple house that, at night, transformed into a space for cultivating its profound strength—something it never set aside despite its pursuit of a "transformation."
Although it never forgot to strengthen itself, during the day it surrendered to everyday experiences and small human routines, exploring the simplicity of the world around it. Despite possessing extraordinary abilities and immeasurable power, it never used them to alter its own life or anyone else's. It chose only to live as a mortal, absorbing the essence of each moment and rediscovering the value of simplicity.
In other words, it involved itself in situations that, for anyone else, would be trivial, but which for it became unexpected lessons about human life. It helped neighbors with small problems—repairing broken fences or tending to sick animals—always without revealing its true power. It felt the simple satisfaction of being useful, of seeing genuine gratitude in people's eyes, something no training or study could teach. It learned patience and empathy in a practical way, discovering that some difficulties can only be resolved with attention, dialogue, and effort—not with superhuman strength or intelligence.
But not everything was peaceful days. It witnessed disagreements, injustices, and even minor crimes in the village: a land dispute between neighbors, a theft at the small local market, or someone's illness without resources for treatment. In each situation, it acted as an ordinary mortal: helping mediate disputes, seeking creative solutions, and striving to restore balance without resorting to its powers. Those difficult moments taught it about limits, frustrations, and consequences, showing that human life consists of small battles and choices—and that resolving problems this way, with caution and empathy, slowly matured it in a manner no supernatural training ever could.
Although it remained in that village for only three months, the experience gained there was profoundly valuable. It began to see those lives with an uncomfortable clarity: they were short, fragile… and a single thought of its own would be enough to extinguish them. Yet there was something about them that unsettled it. A simple, ephemeral, but genuine happiness—something that, in many moments, it realized it might never possess in the same way.
If it had not found its wives, its existence would probably have been far more "empty." Living as an ordinary mortal, even for a short time, proved surprisingly fulfilling. There was even a subtle, almost imperceptible moment when it considered abandoning everything and remaining there, leading that simple life. But that thought never truly deepened. Its ambition remained clear: to become the strongest in the Primordial Chaos.
But then an inevitable question arose.
And after that?
It was at that point that it realized how shallow that desire was when examined in isolation. Over the next two months, while traveling across the Azure Cloud Continent, it began to reflect seriously on this, seeking a way to understand its own motivations. Gradually, a truth started to take shape.
Strength… had never been the ultimate goal.
From the beginning, everything had started with its obsession to get rid of Yun Che—a direct threat to its own life—and, at the same time, to break free from the fate imposed on it as a mere "supporting character." There was also something deeper: a silent but persistent desire to reach the top of the world by its own will… But why exactly had that desire arisen? Was it because being in a world where that was possible brought it out? Was it because it was an ambitious man? No, neither of those. The reason was deeply rooted in its own mind.
It had simply never wanted to face it.
Having died once already, and then thousands of times in its "Martial Intent," the fear of dying again had rooted itself in its existence far more deeply than any ambition. The pursuit of absolute power was not, in truth, about domination…
It was about security.
About never again being at anyone's mercy. Ironically, that was precisely why it despised so much its status as a "supporting character"…
And it was by living among ordinary, fragile, limited—but in some way complete—people that it finally understood the full extent of that mindset. Short lives could still find meaning. But it… was not like them.
For someone like it, merely surviving was not enough.
If there was one goal that truly made sense, it was not just strength.
It was something beyond that.
It wanted eternity.
Only eternal life—that majestic and unattainable goal—could make the journey of its existence truly interesting.
That was the meaning it gave to life! Seeking eternal life did not mean fearing death or failure. It accepted death and failure calmly. Whether eternal life existed or not, there was no proof either way. But even if it did not exist, what did it matter? It would enjoy the process. In the process of pursuing eternal life, it found its purpose and realized that this life was quite interesting. The petty desires and lusts of the body, the satisfaction of love and hatred—all of it was good, but only eternal life was worthy of being its goal…
It was with this goal in mind that it cultivated with even greater dedication, and its incomparable talent responded accordingly…
In the following month, it finally found the answers it had been seeking so earnestly. It was not a sudden revelation, but a silent process that culminated in near-absolute clarity about itself. It was during this period that something inside it changed completely. It decided it would no longer justify its actions based on the label of "villain." That was nothing more than a convenient and dangerous excuse. In the end, it only brought it closer to what it most despised: someone who distorted their own reality to turn mistakes into virtues, like the "former protagonist" of this world.
It no longer mattered that, along that path, it had become similar to what it hated. Nor did it matter if that had, at some point, turned into an "inner demon." Because, in the end… that was exactly what it was. After finally getting rid of Yun Che, its mental state fell into imbalance. Without the focus that once guided it, it was forced to confront itself without distractions, without excuses. And it was only now that this transformation was complete.
It accepted it.
Without excuses.
Without distortions.
Without escape.
Its feelings, conflicts, and attempts at rationalization no longer had space. Not because they disappeared entirely, but because it decided not to lean on them anymore.
It did what it did. And there was no going back.
It manipulated people it claimed, deep down, to love. It acted out of desire, curiosity, or convenience in moments that demanded more than that. It made calculated decisions even when it knew other options existed.
From an outside perspective, there was no way to soften it: it had been cruel. And, at times, selfish.
But for the first time, it did not try to deny it.
With its heart finally clear, it realized something it had previously avoided facing head-on: all this time… it had walked dangerously close to becoming the very thing it once swore to destroy…
It was this realization, combined with the absolute clarity it achieved, that marked the definitive abandonment of its former self.
That was not merely a change of mindset; it was, in every sense, a rebirth. It set aside the need to justify its actions. Labels like "villain" or "hero" became irrelevant, as did any attempt to fit its existence into convenient narratives—including the fact that it was living in a story it had once read. None of that mattered anymore.
Emotions that once influenced it were now treated as unnecessary noise.
What remained was only the essential: clarity… and pragmatism.
It no longer sought approval, redemption, or any kind of moral validation. Its focus had become singular and unshakable.
Its goal: to become completely and truly immortal, with eternity to appreciate and enjoy.
And to achieve it, there would be no hesitation whatsoever.
If anyone stood in its way, they would be killed—whether a genius or an unparalleled beauty, all would become dry bones for it to step over on its path to the pinnacle…
Although it took six full months to reach that absolute clarity in its heart, that period was far from empty. During that time, it lived simply, cultivating diligently and maintaining an almost monastic routine. Still, what it valued most in those months was not only personal progress but the company at its side: Jasmine, Hong'er, Ni Jie, and Hei Jiayue. With them, there was no "loneliness."
Over the last six months, it focused its efforts almost exclusively on a single objective: gathering everything necessary for Jasmine to reconstruct her body.
In practice, however, this was far from a simple resource collection.
It already possessed all those items. The real challenge was not finding them, but constructing a plausible context for it. After all, obtaining such rare materials with excessive ease would raise unnecessary suspicions. So it began carefully orchestrating a series of "difficult situations." Dangerous explorations, forced coincidences, seemingly unavoidable obstacles… everything meticulously planned. Using its spatial manipulation, it controlled invisible variables, ensuring each event unfolded exactly as needed while maintaining the illusion of effort, risk, and chance.
To any outside observer, it would appear to be the fruit of determination and exceptional luck.
In reality, it was pure manipulation.
By the end of the process, it had gathered everything required.
One Underworld Udumbara Flower. Three Profound Beast Pills, all at least in the Sovereign Profound Realm—far beyond what Jasmine actually needed. And roughly thirty-five kilograms of Purple Veined Divine Crystals.
Absurdly rare resources… obtained in an apparently legitimate manner.
With that, reconstructing Jasmine's body ceased to be a distant possibility and became fully achievable. All she needed now was to completely heal the poison—and that was not far off, since in two weeks she would finish that process.
…
The morning mist still rested among the tall bamboo stalks, like a light veil softening the world. The forest breathed in silence; each narrow leaf vibrated with the subtle breeze, producing a continuous, almost hypnotic whisper, as if nature itself murmured ancient secrets to anyone who knew how to listen.
Dewdrops slid slowly down the green stems, reflecting the golden dawn light in tiny shimmering fragments. The sun had not yet fully risen, but its first rays already pierced the bamboo canopy in slanted beams, creating moving patterns of light and shadow that danced with the wind's breath.
In the heart of that forest, almost hidden among the dense stalks, stood a simple cabin.
It was small, built of aged wood with a thatched roof, without any unnecessary ornamentation. Yet there was a natural harmony in its presence, as if it had always belonged there. The ground around it was clean, free of accumulated leaves, showing constant care but without excess. Nothing there was made to impress—only to exist.
Inside the cabin, the silence was even deeper.
Morning light entered through a small side window, casting a golden rectangle across the wooden floor. Dust particles floated slowly in the air, visible only when they crossed that beam, as if time itself had slowed inside.
Ren Zu sat on the bed. Legs crossed in lotus position, spine straight, shoulders relaxed. His hands rested on his knees, fingers slightly curled in a natural gesture, without conscious effort. His eyes were closed. He wore the same purple robes of the "Celestial Demon Divine Cultivation Leader," and his appearance had returned to normal.
His breathing was imperceptible.
There was no perceptible fluctuation in his aura, no sign of profound energy circulating extravagantly. To any ordinary cultivator, he would seem completely mundane—almost indistinguishable from a resting mortal, were it not for his immortal appearance; anyone could believe it…
Internally, his Profound Veins had undergone yet another significant transformation when he successfully advanced to the Sixth Level of the Divine Tribulation Realm. His profound energy experienced a qualitative and quantitative leap, becoming incomparably denser and more powerful than before.
Even so, that was not the most terrifying aspect of his evolution.
Undoubtedly, the greatest advance occurred in his physical body. During this period, he managed to open two more of the so-called "Eight Internal Gates," reaching a total of six unlocked gates. This progress, though impressive, also revealed a critical point in his cultivation: the difficulty between stages was far from linear. The first four gates, despite requiring some effort, could still be considered relatively accessible. However, starting from the fifth, complexity increased dramatically. Opening the two most recent gates consumed about two full years—a stark contrast to the few months needed for the first four. This difference made it clear that the limits of the body were being pushed to ever more extreme levels.
Now, only the last two remained: the Gate of Life and the Gate of Death. Those were undoubtedly the most difficult of all, requiring not only absolute strength and control, but also external preparation. To pass through that final stage, he would need to gather specific herbs and refine them into two special pills…
Even so, his current bodily state was already monstrous.
With six Internal Gates open, combined with the "Dragon God Physique," the "Immortal Jade Dragon Physique," and mastery of the [Great Buddha Path] at the tenth level—achieved over the past year—his physical constitution had completely surpassed the conventional limits of existence. His body could no longer be described within mortal standards; it was something that transcended any common parameter.
Considering only the physical aspect, without even accounting for his profound energy, the conclusion was clear: he had already surpassed the level of a True God.
The reasoning behind this conclusion was simple. Even without the "Heavenly Tyrant Manual" or his unique physiques, any individual who reached the tenth level of the [Great Buddha Path] would acquire the so-called "body of a True God": capable of absorbing Primordial Energy, prolonging life indefinitely, and regenerating with extremely high healing power. In his case, however, that foundation had been elevated to an entirely different level thanks to his other means of bodily strengthening…
Honestly, he no longer knew what the limit of his own strength was. Each advance seemed to push him further beyond any concrete reference, making it impossible to measure precisely how far his power truly extended. What could once be analyzed and quantified had now become something abstract, almost beyond even his own comprehension…
In contrast, his progress in the Laws of Time (Reincarnation) through the [Ten Extreme Daos] was far from complete. Despite significant advances, that path remained too vast and profound to be mastered in so little time. Each step revealed new layers of complexity, as if he were merely touching the surface of a concept that transcended ordinary understanding.
Even so, that progress was not insignificant. He had already reached the level necessary to begin developing his own Profound Art, shaping it based on his unique comprehension of those laws. However, he was far from finishing it. What he possessed at the moment was only a sketch—a promising foundation that, in the future, could evolve into something truly terrifying…
After twenty more minutes of detail, Ren Zu stopped cultivating. The incessant flow of profound energy circulating through his Profound Veins gradually slowed until it stabilized perfectly.
He let out a long sigh.
Slowly, his eyelids lifted.
And in that instant, the world seemed to lose its axis for a brief second. Because over the course of that year, as his mentality changed, his eyes came to reflect that "change."
And those eyes had become profoundly limpid, like freshly spilled black ink on immaculate parchment. There was no artificial shine, no reflected light—just a darkness so pure and absolute that it seemed to absorb the very morning light entering through the window. Yet at the same time, within that darkness was something alive and infinite. It was as if the essence of the universe had condensed there; stars were born and died in fractions of a second in the depths of his pupils, galaxies spun silently, black holes devoured light and time, nebulae danced in hues no mortal could ever name. Looking directly into those eyes was like contemplating the birth and end of everything that exists: unspeakable beauty, absolute terror, and a depth that sucked the soul from anyone who dared come too close.
It was not merely beautiful.
It was overwhelming.
Capable of making even the strongest hearts hesitate, the brightest minds lose themselves, and Creation Gods feel—for a brief and terrifying instant—the crushing weight of their own insignificance…
Ren Zu blinked once.
And the universe within his eyes seemed to calm, as if obeying a silent command.
He stretched languidly, arms raised above his head, back arching in a fluid, lazy motion that made his joints crack almost musically. The dark-purple robe slid smoothly over perfect skin, briefly revealing the defined lines of his chest and shoulder muscles before settling back into place.
He lowered his arms and looked at his own hands. Palms open, long elegant fingers, skin immaculate like white jade under the morning light.
A small, almost melancholic smile curved his lips.
"With the strength I have now…" he murmured to himself, voice low and calm, "…I could do whatever I wanted in the Realm of the Gods without worrying about not being strong enough to handle the consequences…"
In that instant, even without any external presence manifesting, his mind could not help but anticipate—with almost mechanical clarity—the reaction that would certainly come from Jasmine if she were there.
After two years by her side, he had not only understood her personality but internalized her patterns of thought. To someone like her, those words would sound like dangerous arrogance—not because he was necessarily wrong about his current power, but because the frame of comparison he used was still far too limited. The Realm of the Gods was not a static or easily measurable concept; it was a domain where ancient monsters existed, entities that had transcended eras buried in the Abyss of Nothingness, whose true depth could not be gauged solely by conventional parameters of strength…
Even so, that "imagined reprimand" provoked no emotional reaction in him. No irritation, no denial. Only acknowledgment. He knew that, in absolute terms, his conclusion had foundation—his current level truly granted him unrestricted freedom in most known scenarios…
Fortunately, Jasmine was in seclusion, focused on completely eradicating the remaining poison from her soul. That gave him a rare period of silence…
But soon she would emerge from seclusion, and when she finished reconstructing her body, she would return to the Illusory Demon Realm…
___________________
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