Chapter 40: The Gap Between Goal and Reality

“Breathe, breathe～”

In the Heaven Sword world, Zhang Jie, having returned from the shared space, continued his diligent cultivation in the silent chamber.

The entire chamber was filled with air currents generated by his inhaling and exhaling.

Lost in cultivation, he was unaware that an entire night had passed.

“Breathe～”

“Now I understand why the great masters in xianxia worlds lock themselves away for decades or even centuries.”

After finishing his practice, he sat cross-legged on the mat, feeling the strength within his body,

which had increased by at least thirty percent compared to yesterday, and sighed.

He now somewhat understood why so many fitness enthusiasts before his transmigration became addicted to working out.

The sensation of feeling oneself grow stronger every minute, every second, was simply exquisite.

Compared to this, even the pleasure of male-female union and yin-yang harmony paled in comparison.

If he hadn’t known that the returns from pure seclusion were too slow, he would have locked himself away until he became invincible.

Tap-tap～

A short, crisp knock echoed outside the silent chamber.

“Lord, it’s time for breakfast.”

A servant from Zhu Wu Linked Mountain Villa announced.

“I know. Go call Wuji, and tell him to join me for breakfast.”

Zhang Jie, whose clothes and hair were as neat as the day before after a night of seclusion, instructed.

“Yes.”

The servant departed on his errand.

……

After breakfast, Zhang Wuji said to Zhang Jie:

“Brother, I’m heading back to the valley.”

Zhang Jie, sipping his mouth-rinsing tea, set down his cup:

“Won’t you stay a few more days at Zhu Wu Linked Mountain Villa?”

Zhang Wuji shook his head: “No, just coming up to feel the presence of humanity is enough.

Besides, Brother Monkey is still waiting for me back in the valley.”

For someone as detached as him, occasional contact with the human world sufficed.

Prolonged dealings with complex people made him uncomfortable.

Compared to the scheming, deceitful mortal world, places like Binghuo Island and Kunlun Valley—beautiful, self-sufficient, and peaceful—suited him far better.

“Very well. I’ll return to Kunlun Valley with you shortly.”

Zhang Jie nodded, agreeing with Zhang Wuji’s sentiment.

He had no judgment toward Zhang Wuji’s reclusive, otherworldly lifestyle.

Everyone has their own way of living—whether striving or retreating,

as long as one is happy and has no regrets later, that’s all that matters.

In The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber, Zhang Wuji not only gave up the power and wealth he had gained at the grand finale,

choosing instead to retire with Zhao Min to Binghuo Island.

Long before that, he had repeatedly expressed his desire for seclusion:

When he accidentally wandered into the deserted Kunlun Valley,

his first thought wasn’t to perfect his martial arts and seek revenge against Zhu Changling and Wu Lie,

but rather that spending his remaining days in Kunlun Valley wouldn’t be so bad.

At noon, after handling the affairs of Zhu Wu Linked Mountain Villa over the past few days

and making the necessary arrangements, Zhang Jie set out for Kunlun Valley with Zhang Wuji.

He wasn’t worried that those under him might secretly defy him while he was away—

with his absolute martial superiority, he had full confidence to crush any conspiracy.

After all, even though the Heaven Sword world wasn’t a xianxia realm where one man could rival a nation or snatch stars from the sky,

it still possessed neili, a supernatural force enabling one to fight a hundred, even a thousand opponents.

As the great man said: Power grows out of the barrel of a gun.

With strength in his body, Zhang Jie could be a hands-off lord for a while and still retain full control over Zhu Wu Linked Mountain Villa.

Having traveled the route before, Zhang Jie led Zhang Wuji with ease,

using a rope along the cliffside to descend onto the stone platform.

A hundred-meter cliff meant nothing to Zhang Jie, who possessed superior qinggong and could use the rope for leverage.

The only thing to overcome was a slight fear of heights caused by the bottomless drop.

Ignoring the graves of Zhu Changling, Wu Lie, and Zhu Jiuzhen on the platform, Zhang Jie and Zhang Wuji entered the cave.

At the narrowest section, Zhang Jie shrank his body using his Bone-Shortening Skill as he moved forward, while internally grumbling:

“I’m Zhang Jie—a transmigrator with a golden finger, a cheat! How come I always have to crawl through dog holes every time I come back?

If this gets out, what’s left of my dignity?”

Zhang Jie examined the cave walls, wondering whether he should carve a new passage.

This wasn’t just for convenience—it was also a form of cultivation.

In his memory, the world of “The Lost Funeral of Frieren,” mocked by netizens as “The Funeral of Xinshi Ji Fuyin Warrior” and “The Buried Rose King,”

featured a boy who trained by excavating mountains until he gained power that terrified dragons.

The dragon trembling before the boy:

A powerhouse whose casual strike could split mountains and shatter rocks—wouldn’t you be afraid?

Though the rules of the two worlds differed, the essence of training remained the same.

In the world of "The Buried King Fuying,"

Deciding to act, Zhang Jie raised his index finger, channeled his neili,

and thrust it forcefully into the cave wall—his finger sank instantly into the stone.

“Brother, what are you doing?”

Zhang Wuji, hearing the noise, turned around to ask.

“I’m testing whether the cave wall is sturdy enough—whether it might collapse when we pass through.”

Of course, Zhang Jie gave a random excuse, never revealing his true intent.

He thrust his finger hard into the cave wall, and his index finger sank into the stone at once.

You think so far ahead, Brother! I never considered that.”

Zhang Wuji, suddenly understanding, spoke with deep admiration.

“It’s nothing. You’re just young. In two years, you’ll understand everything.”

Zhang Jie waved his left hand dismissively, as if to say: this is just basic Jie-ge stuff, no big deal.

“Mm.”

Innocent and kind-hearted Zhang Wuji nodded seriously.

Zhang Wuji exclaimed with sudden understanding, full of admiration.

Even as unscrupulous as Zhang Jie, he felt a pang of guilt at that moment.

“I hope Wuji doesn’t end up misled by me.”

Zhang Jie silently wished Zhang Wuji well in his heart,

and resolved never to plant false ideas in him again.

It would be such a waste if an ultimate master, second only to Zhang Sanfeng, were ruined like this.

Besides, Zhang Wuji always called him “brother”—he was family, a beloved companion.

"I hope Wuji isn't left confused by my nonsense."

Only after Zhang Wuji walked ahead did Zhang Jie pull out his index finger from behind his back—it had turned bright red.

And he decided never to instill false notions in him again.

No wonder in the Condor Heroes era, Lin Chaoying carved characters into the cliff with her bare fingers,

and Wang Chongyang, the supreme master of the realm, the Heavenly Immortal, bowed before her.”

Zhang Jie thought inwardly.

Just that single thrust had consumed one-thirtieth of his neili.

Zhang Jie gazed at the hundred-meter-long cave and realized that, with his current power,

carving a passage through the mountain still had a slight gap to overcome.

At this moment, Zhang Jie deeply understood: the gap between goal and reality was this vast…

Zhang Jie silently thought to himself.

Just that single finger had consumed one-thirtieth of his internal energy.

Zhang Jie surveyed the cave, hundreds of meters in length, and felt that with his current cultivation,

carving through the mountain to create such a cave was still slightly beyond his reach.

At this moment, Zhang Jie deeply realized how vast the gap between goal and reality truly was…

Forget it, let’s wait until Tianlong Zhang Jie gains the six-decade-long Northern Darkness Divine Art energy from Wu Yashu.

Zhang Jie suppressed this thought in his heart and hurried after Zhang Wuji.

“Squeak~”

As Zhang Jie emerged from the cave, he saw the white ape dancing wildly beside Zhang Wuji.

It seemed the white ape had been waiting at the cave entrance all night.

“Only the supremely wise and the utterly foolish can remain steadfast.”

Watching the white ape play and wrestle with Zhang Wuji, Zhang Jie sighed.

This scene reminded him of someone—no, of someone under one,

because Feng Baobao had waited for four or five decades in a mountain forest,

after her mother said, “Wait here, we’ll come find you later,”

during which time she fought pandas for bamboo shoots—Bao’er-jie.

“Squeak~”

After greeting Zhang Wuji, the white ape ran over to Zhang Jie.

It had clearly forgotten that Zhang Jie had deliberately radiated killing intent to scare it yesterday.

“Brother Ape.”

Zhang Jie stroked the white ape’s fluffy head as if petting a cat from before his transmigration.

“Squeak, squeak~”

The white ape closed its eyes in delight.

“Keeping a pet isn’t bad at all.”

Looking at the white ape, which behaved like a puppy, Zhang Jie’s mood lifted.

Zhang Jie, Zhang Wuji, and the white ape followed the stream back to Zhang Wuji’s thatched hut.

“Indeed! Cultivation here is much faster!”

Zhang Jie opened his eyes in delight after continuing his meditation.

During his cultivation, he felt a mysterious force entering his Eight Extraordinary Meridians,

turning his snail-paced qi growth into the speed of a tortoise crawling.

Though he couldn’t make rapid breakthroughs in a short time, the accumulated progress over long periods was quite impressive.

The Wudang Nine Yang Art, which normally took at least thirty years to perfect in the outside world,

Zhang Jie estimated could be mastered in roughly seventeen to eighteen years here in the Kunlun Valley.

It nearly halved the time required—this effect was nothing short of miraculous.

If Song Yuanqiao, Yu Lianzhou, and the others could cultivate here in the Kunlun Valley year-round,

their Wudang Nine Yang Art would have been perfected long ago!

“The ancients said: the cultivator needs wealth, companions, methods, and location.

Though location ranks last, it is also critically important.”

Zhang Jie sighed deeply.

In ancient times, Mencius’s mother moved three times just to find a land of peace and harmony.

“Keep cultivating!”

Having tasted the joy of progress, Zhang Jie became utterly absorbed in cultivation.