Change. The development of one's character. Is shaped by experiences, trials and the interactions encountered along the path of life.
Five seconds of trauma can reshape your mind more than a month of mental strengthening. All that work, that perceived progress—gone like it never existed. Your possible future self, erased like passing wind.
You make a decision, now you have four possible paths. Time walks on, now your path has been cut down to three, to two, and then you remain with one. That last path of your life, you have gone too far to change, it has been ingrained into you too deep to truly evolve once more, your last way of life, the best case scenario or the worst.
Training the mind is the act of rewiring it at its core. But one slip, one distraction—one day of resting your thoughts—and your brain begins to regress. A month of growth set back by a single week of weakness.
A self-proclaimed wise sage might say, "Pain strengthens the mind and fuels growth," as he strokes his overgrown beard. Yet even a wise sage cannot shield his own mind from itself.
Pain. Regret. Resentment. These things pile up over time—not into strength, but into the shape of a man who's given up. A man who pretends his suffering has made him strong. One who always looks back, while the path ahead is veiled in memories and visions of what could have been.
True strength of mind doesn't come from pain.
It comes from understanding.
***
Ryo's eyes snapped open, and he rubbed them wearily.
He breathed in and out, noticing the faint darkness under his eyes.
Haha... the party lasted too long, huh?
Ren, too excited to listen to Su's objections, had invited his friends over to brag. He hung out with their sons, who asked a lot of questions—pretty annoying.
To Ryo's surprise, last night, Mother Su, drunk, told him he should drink his first beer.
Apparently, I'm a man now after this achievement, she'd said. He told her he was just fourteen. She wasn't listening.
Ryo thought back to the party.
Did he feel like a man after his first drink? No—not really. He was mostly confused about why anyone would drink something so bitter.
He asked his mother after accidentally spitting out beer onto his friend's face. The friend turned red with rage, getting laughed at by Sayuri, which Ryo pretended not to see.
His mother laughed. "Sure, it tastes bad at first, but after a while, it goes from bitter to just... weird tasting." She booped Ryo's nose. "That light-headed feeling afterward never gets old either."
After she said that, Ryo looked around. Pretty much everyone else was older—drinking at the party.
He came to a conclusion after asking a few more questions, as his mother barely kept her balance.
"So, drinking beer for the first time is almost a ritual to enter adulthood. Yet most people don't like the taste. So do they simply drink it to fit in? But on the other hand, it's seen as something fun. They endure the bitterness to fit in, get used to the taste, then stick to it for the after-feeling."
Interesting.
Ryo shook his head as he got up from bed, stretching his back.
It's the weekend today. Finally, two days of rest.
He went to his bookshelf, stroking his hand along the books until his fingertips paused on one slightly out of place.
Hmm? I always make sure the books are perfectly aligned.
Ryo wasn't one to let small things slide; misaligned books irritated him.
He pulled out the book.
Church of Order. I'll read this today.
Sitting at his desk, Ryo opened the book and began.
The Church of Order worships the God of Acceptance. He is said to have been born at Year Zero and lived for 375 years. After his death, the old year system was abolished and replaced with the Calendar of Order.
He was a man beyond cultivation—a God who fought Desire alone, defied Fate, and turned the cultivation world upside down. Yet his greatest feat was teaching the lesser people around him—those who only sought power and were shaped by desire—to accept the parts of themselves they suppressed: the parts that sought love, kindness, and forgiveness.
He opened the eyes of those who had closed their hearts to what they truly wanted and what they were conditioned to seek. A man of many talents, a God with an abundant heart.
After reading more, Ryo closed the book with a contemplative expression.
If the God of Acceptance truly taught these things, then why do the radical rulers of the current Order think it's right to force everyone to accept "acceptance"?