The universe loves irony. The things you think you’ll never do are the things you end up doing in time. “Just make peace with them,” Master used to say.

Mastering time isn’t about stopping time, rather, slowing down its effects.

Why do you shower in the waterfall?” Pico asks again.“I have too much time.” Yuan jumps from the cliff, diving into the air. The wind whispers in his ears what you may never hear. Target: the tree branch thirty feet below. Next, the stone twenty feet further down. Then, the flat slab and another branch. Finally, the bed of black stones where all the water, falling from a few hundred feet, gets collected like a whirlpool and overflows into the river further down.

Recharge my car,” he says.“Won’t you use the AT?” Pico refers to the Aerial Transports. “I want my ride slow,” Yuan says, letting his dark shawl fall on the grass baring his torso. He doesn’t step away from his wooden geta sandals, each with a two-inch block at the center.

A monk never gets angry. He simply states, witnesses, and flows along with the current of prana.

Uncertainty—not for food or shelter, but for life. Fear of death. Fear of living alone. He was a child back then. Him and Ruem.“Win your fear, and you’ll evolve.” Their Master’s voice lulls the Monk in his mind.

These days, the word Source is coming frequently, ever since that man asked to meet.

Your plan will backfire. People aren’t ready for this. I’ve seen it. They prefer being blind, living life the way it is, waiting for an end, playing their little life game. And they want to play it safe. You cannot force adventure on everyone, Ruem. You can’t implant wisdom.

Didn’t even ask if he will be free on the 19th at 19:20 hours! That arrogant devil!