The progress abruptly slowed from swift to a crawl, with signs of becoming even slower.
By the time Fachuan had written the eightieth thesis, he already felt his wisdom depleting, his Sea of Consciousness churning whenever he lifted his pen.
He understood that this was a sign of spirit exhaustion; he could write no more theses.
"Ultimately... it's still a failure, huh."
He opened his palm and allowed the fragments of the pen shaft to slip through his fingers, Fachuan shut his eyes in pain.
This impressive endeavor of change, in the end, was doomed to fail due to his own incompetence!
"Sigh~~~~"
Fachuan exhaled deeply, neatly stacking the gold-threaded papers in front of him, and was about to stand up when he suddenly saw the door of the Zen academy flung open, the sunlight brightening the dim room.
