Author: I really thought I wouldn't manage it this time.
I had to write this chapter in a rush and use a tool to translate it into English because I was running out of time.
The chapter turned out short, so I'll post another one in a few hours.
thanks for read
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Weed slowly opened his eyes.
He picked up the carving knife.
He took a deep breath.
"What does it mean to love someone..."
The blade touched the wood.
The first cut was almost imperceptible.
A thin shaving peeled away from the log.
Then another.
And another.
Each movement was slower than the last.
There was no haste.
There was no hesitation.
He was no longer trying to reproduce a face.
He was trying to reveal what already existed within his memories.
The wood responded to the carving knife as though it had been waiting for this very moment for decades.
Small, yet precise, cuts followed one after another.
Little by little...
Memories came and went.
Yet the image remained.
Her hair slowly emerged.
It looked as though it could sway with the wind.
Then came the delicate outline of her face.
Smooth.
Flawless.
As beautiful as a finely polished jewel.
Her eyes remained closed.
Calm.
Silent.
Yet he could almost guess what those eyes were thinking.
A smile, so faint it was nearly invisible, appeared upon her lips.
Nothing was exaggerated.
Even so...
Every line carried a serenity that words struggled to describe.
Hours passed without Weed noticing.
The oil lamp burned out.
The sun rose.
Then slowly set once again.
He continued carving.
Without hunger.
Without sleep.
Without looking away even once.
When he finally lowered the carving knife...
Silence once again filled the workshop.
Before him...
Stood the most beautiful sculpture he had ever created.
The wood itself seemed to breathe.
As though a quiet life resided within it.
A translucent blue screen slowly appeared before his eyes.
[Name: The One Who Always Walked Beside Me]
[Material: Century-old wood marked by Dao.]
[Quality: Excellent.]
[Artistic Value: 527]
[Description:]
"A young woman stands quietly beneath the wind.
She does not smile at the world.
She merely watches, in silence, someone walking ahead of her.
Her creator did not carve beauty.
He carved companionship.
He carved a memory.
He carved fifteen years of a feeling that never needed words."
[Dominant Concepts:]
— [Love]
— [Companionship]
— [Loyalty]
— [Waiting]
Weed remained motionless.
Even he...
Found it difficult to look away from his own work.
He felt that if he admired it for too long...
He might never leave this place again.
It was as though the sculpture had captured something that could never truly be touched.
He slowly exhaled.
Then...
The hungry copy of the Sculpting Skill Gu leapt onto the statue.
Like a child discovering its favorite meal.
It began to devour.
Not the wood.
But its Artistic Value.
The sculpture's radiance gradually faded.
Its elegant lines became ordinary once more.
The wood returned to being nothing more than wood.
It was like watching a memory slowly disappear from the world.
At the same time...
Weed carefully prepared the remaining materials.
The Blade Gu.
The Memory Recording Gu.
The Emotion Recording Gu.
One by one, they entered the refinement vessel.
Finally...
The Sculpting Skill Gu, now completely satiated, settled at the center of the formation.
Primeval Essence began to circulate.
Slowly.
Steadily.
For the first time...
None of the concepts seemed to reject one another.
The refinement continued.
Without explosions.
Without cracks.
Without instability.
The four essences slowly revolved around one another.
A faint pink light appeared.
Then another.
Delicate flower petals slowly began to bloom.
Transparent.
Each petal seemed woven from pure memories.
At the center of the flower...
A gentle feminine face gradually took shape.
Its eyes remained closed.
But...
For the first time since beginning these experiments...
Weed felt that he had succeeded.
His breathing quickened.
Without hesitation...
He crushed another Primeval Stone.
Then another.
And another.
Fresh Primeval Essence poured into the vessel.
The flower became clearer.
Its petals slowly unfolded.
As though they were welcoming the light of spring.
Then...
Something changed.
Its radiance weakened.
Almost imperceptibly.
One petal lost its color.
Then another.
The delicate face slowly began to fade.
There was no explosion.
No rejection.
Only...
A slow weakening.
Like a flame that continued burning...
Until it realized there was no firewood left to consume.
The flower slowly withered.
Silently.
Without resistance.
Without violence.
As though peacefully accepting its own end.
Weed remained perfectly still.
Watching.
Without attempting to stop it.
Until only a tiny pink ember remained...
And that too...
Soon faded into nothingness.
Silence returned to the refinement vessel.
Nothing had survived.
...
Weed felt an overwhelming emptiness.
Yet he immediately understood why.
Of course.
It was because of the very nature of love itself.
Love was like a flower.
Like a plant.
It had to be nurtured.
Cared for.
Watered.
Maintained.
Built together with the one who stood beside you.
It was not mere lust...
A fleeting desire that appeared and disappeared in an instant.
Love could survive for years.
But those same years apart...
Had caused his own love to slowly wither.
Not disappear.
Never disappear.
Only...
Transform.
Into longing.
Into sorrow.
Weed quietly reflected upon longing.
Upon sorrow.
Those feelings only grew stronger as time passed.
Even if they were not the strongest emotions...
He had unknowingly nourished them for fifteen long years.
But beyond them...
There existed an even greater feeling.
One born only after enduring them.
Overcoming them.
Subduing sorrow.
Conquering despair.
the source of will force.
DETERMINATION.
Slowly...
Weed reached for another block of wood.
And began to carve once more.