He continued in a voice that could sever nails and chop iron: “It’s like when a painter paints a mountain. He first observes millions of mountains, and then is capable of painting his own. That mountain he paints will contain the essence of all the other mountains he observed; thus, a masterpiece is created! Similarly, millions of tiny streams will fuse together to create a great and boundless river! This is the philosophy of which I speak. Assemble the thoughts from many schools, and coalesce them in the self! This is my path, and how I achieve the Dao of alchemy!” He flicked his sleeve, and his eyes glittered as he stared at Meng Hao. “I’m curious to hear Grandmaster Fang’s philosophy of alchemy!”
His words echoed out into the hearts of the tens of thousands of Black Sieve Sect disciples. Han Bei looked on thoughtfully. Behind Meng Hao, Zhou Dekun stared, an introspective look in his eyes.
Meng Hao looked back at Chen Jiaxi, his expression the same as ever. His tone light, he began, “When a painter observes millions of mountains, then paints one, perhaps his painting contains the essence of the mountains he observed. However, the mountain he paints… is not real. It emerges from his imagination, and is what he believes a mountain to be. In truth, he has already forgotten the first mountain he ever saw, because he has seen too many. He has also forgotten the feeling he experienced when he gazed at that first mountain’s peak.
“Millions of streams fuse together to become a great and boundless river. But that river… is no longer the stream it once was. It is the amalgamation of many waters, fused together and indistinguishable. That first tiny stream which dreamed of being a river is now dead, killed by the very process it desired.
“The process of his pursuit causes the painter to forget that first mountain, and because of that, the very reason he wished to paint a mountain in the first place. The process of becoming a river causes the stream to lose itself. Its will is diluted as it becomes a river, and then it is gone.” As he spoke, Meng Hao’s voice grew louder.
“This is my third question. By fusing many schools of thought, you lose yourself. You think you have benefited, but in reality, you have no path of your own. If you have no ideal of your own to adhere to, then you have observed millions of mountains, but forgotten why you wanted to paint a mountain to begin with!
“Without principles of your own to stick to, then you are a stream that has become a river. However, such a river has no soul! That, is true death!” Meng Hao flicked his wide sleeve. His words poured into Chen Jiaxi’s ears and sent his mind spinning.
“As Cultivators, we must adhere to our own set of principles. As alchemists, we must adhere to our own Dao of alchemy. Acquaintances and other schools of thought can bolster or support our confidence. But we must never allow the process of the search to result in losing our own ideal.
“If the heart is unyielding, nothing can ever supersede it. This type of heart may seem as if it contains transformations, but in reality, is stable, a foundation. From beginning to end, it will never disappear. It will always exist. An unchangeable heart!” Meng Hao’s powerful words shook the square. Chen Jiaxi’s face twisted, and without even thinking about it, he retreated a few paces. His eyes shone with confusion.
“If your heart yields, how can you create anything lasting?!” Meng Hao continued. “Grandmaster Chen, you do not possess a resolute heart. Do you truly have the confidence to mention other schools of thought? Do you have the courage to boast shamelessly of blending together your own path? Do you truly dare to speak to me of the Dao of alchemy?”
Silence filled the square for a moment, and then conversations filled the air. Chen Jiaxi was panting, and his heart was filled with confusion.