"Little streams of water, slow, gentle but purposeful… they flow in jagged patterns, and although they seem aimless at first, they eventually converge."
"The little trickles form a river, and yet they do not stop at such meagre strength, they continue. Endlessly chasing their goal. It does not matter for how long they flow, what matters is their drive."
"Eventually, even the mighty rivers meet…"
The old man stroked his impressively long beard, his aged eyes overflowing with wisdom.
"And they form an ocean…"
He glanced to his left where two people were staring at him blankly. One, a boy with dark grey hair and eyes that resembled the clouds during a storm, and the second with brown skin and silver eyes overflowing with contempt.
"Join me on the path to cultivation, younglings. In a millio—err—uhum—in a thousand years, you would have reached the realm of demons and lords."
Stark glanced at the old man and sighed deeply. "Dude, all I'm asking for is directions…"
