SSS-Rank 10x Reward System: Accepting Disciples to Live Forever-Chapter 210: Unable to Comprehend

After fashioning a crude axe—binding a sharpened blade tightly to the end of a thick, angular branch with strips of torn cloth—Wang Chen joined the others in the forest.

The first swing felt wrong.

Awkward and strangely Heavy.

The vibration from the impact ran up his arms and into his shoulders, numbing them slightly. Without cultivation reinforcing his muscles, each motion demanded effort. Sweat gathered quickly along his brow despite the cool sea wind drifting through the trees.

Chop.

Chop.

Chop.

Wood splintered slowly under repeated strikes. Chips flew, scattering across damp earth. The scent of raw timber thickened the air, mixing with salt carried from the ocean.

They carried the felled logs back to the shoreline one by one, stacking them neatly where the All-Seeing Immortal had begun laying out the ship’s foundation.

Minutes turned into hours.

Hours bled into days.

Blisters formed along Wang Chen’s palms. His shoulders ached constantly. His back stiffened every night when he lay down on the coarse sand to rest.

Every passing day, he began to miss his power more deeply.

To the point that he found himself questioning—

Was eternity worth this?

He felt like a wealthy man locked inside a dungeon cell, pockets overflowing with gold that could not buy him a single step outside.

What use was eternity if it came stripped of agency?

What use was immortality without the strength that allowed him to shape his path?

The thought lingered heavily in his mind.

...Or maybe my conviction isn’t strong enough.

His steps slowed as he dragged another log toward the shore.

My Dao is still fragile.

What are a few years of hardship in exchange for endless time?

The question echoed.

Then—

Something shifted.

Wang Chen stopped mid-step.

His eyes lit up faintly, as if a veil had been pulled aside.

Of course.

Without hesitation, he set the log down and walked toward the sandy edge of the beach. He lowered himself into a cross-legged position, closed his eyes, and began to absorb everything.

The sound of waves crashing.

The scrape of axes biting wood.

The sting of salt against skin.

The exhaustion in his muscles.

The quiet pride in completing a simple task with his own hands.

He let none of it escape him.

He did not allow a single sensation, a single realization, to pass unexamined.

The others glanced at him but did not interfere.

Enlightenment was rare.

Something that might only visit once in decades.

To interrupt it would be foolish.

Days passed.

Mo Huyan’s phantom figure circled slowly around Wang Chen, her eyes studying him with growing intensity.

She glanced occasionally at the other immortals nearby. Doubt had begun to creep onto their faces.

Irritation.

Restlessness.

Discomfort.

Her lips parted slightly as she murmured under her breath.

"In this trial of powerlessness, young cultivators hold an advantage."

Her gaze drifted over the older immortals.

"These immortals have enjoyed authority and comfort for tens of thousands of years. For them, losing power is like losing limbs."

She watched one Domain Sovereign snap irritably at a subordinate over how a plank was placed.

"Only those with extremely firm Dao hearts can accept such loss."

Her eyes returned to Wang Chen.

"For younger cultivators, it is different. They have lived closer to the bottom of the chain. Their convictions matter more than their strength."

"For them, losing power they barely possessed is not as devastating."

Wang Chen’s meditative state continued.

One day.

Two.

Five.

Seven.

For an entire week, he remained seated, the wind tugging at his torn robe, sand collecting lightly around him.

When his eyes finally opened, they were no longer clouded by doubt.

No frustration.

No anxiety.

Only clarity.

He felt light.

Not because he had regained power.

But because he no longer clung to it.

He had wanted eternity to explore.

To live.

To witness.

And here he was.

Alive.

Unthreatened.

Working with his own hands.

These were the days I once dreamed of...

He stood up without hesitation.

Without dramatic gestures.

Without announcement.

And returned to work.

He carried wood in and out of the forest until his muscles trembled and his back screamed for relief. His once pristine robe had long since been torn apart, reduced to rough fabric clinging to his slightly toned body, damp with sweat and sea mist.

Days of hard labor transformed the beach.

Under the All-Seeing Immortal’s direction and the combined intelligence of elites, logs were carved precisely. Planks were smoothed. Support beams were reinforced with clever interlocking joints.

They used leverage and counterweight techniques to move enormous sections of timber without cultivation.

Watching the frame of the ship slowly rise from the sand, Wang Chen felt a quiet realization settle in his chest.

Humanity had once built ancient, sturdy ships without spiritual energy.

Without divine techniques.

With nothing but persistence, intellect, and cooperation.

And perhaps—

That was precisely the lesson the Eternal Dream Dragon wished them to see.

Not just that, Wang Chen also began to notice something else.

The cultivators around them were changing.

At first, everyone had been equally stunned by the loss of cultivation, equally disoriented. But as days passed, their old habits resurfaced.

Beautiful female cultivators began gathering groups of young, hot-blooded men around them, offering smiles that lingered a second too long, voices softened just enough to stir loyalty. What started as cooperation slowly turned into influence.

Elsewhere, others raised slogans.

"Brotherhood!"

"Stand for your sect!"

"For honor!"

For "legacy!"

They spoke loudly, passionately, eyes blazing as if they were about to charge into war. And the people around them responded—faces flushed, chests puffed, nodding fervently.

All of it to secure manpower.

To claim better wood.

To finish sections faster.

To compete.

Wang Chen watched silently, axe resting over his shoulder.

He could only shake his head.

He truly did not understand how far people were willing to go for emotions like pride... and especially love.

No matter how sweet it felt, wasn’t it just another emotion?

Like anger.

Like hatred.

Temporary.

Fluctuating.

Unstable.

For a cultivator, should such mortal concepts even matter?

He looked around at the so-called immortals—beings who had ascended realms, broken shackles of mortality, extended their lifespans into absurd lengths.

And yet—

In their hearts, they still burned with the same impulses as mortals.

Jealousy.

Competition.

Desire.

Vanity.

Their goals seemed unclear, buried beneath layers of emotional noise.

Unbeknownst to him, while he was observing the crowd, someone was observing him.

Mo Huyan’s perceptive eyes narrowed slightly.

She felt it.

The subtle shift.

The aura around Wang Chen changed.

From warm calmness... to something quieter.

Detached.

Indifferent. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

What?

Her eyes widened faintly.

This wasn’t what a young cultivator should feel.

A young cultivator should be blazing with ambition. Burning for glory. Willing to pluck stars from the sky for a beloved, or die screaming for their clan.

But this—

This was closer to someone who had already seen too much.

Suddenly Wang Chen snapped out of his drifting thoughts.

He sensed someone approaching.

Turning, he saw Demon Queen Zi Han walking toward him.

She looked different.

The usual cold, distant composure had softened. A genuine smile rested on her lips—not calculated, not seductive, but warm and human.

For some reason, that smile made Wang Chen slightly uncomfortable.

He couldn’t explain it.

Perhaps it was because it felt too real.

Before he could dissect the feeling, Zi Han spoke.

"Fellow Daoist Wang," she said, her voice steady yet sincere, "the more time I spend with you, the more admiration I feel."

Her eyes held no mockery.

"Even with such a deep background, you remain extremely humble. You work alongside us without complaint... I can’t even imagine..."

She trailed off slightly, as if unable to articulate the depth of her respect.

At that moment, Murong Shichen approached from the side, nodding.

"Indeed," he added. "I especially admire Fellow Wang for this."

There was something about Wang Chen—something steady and mysterious—that Murong Shichen couldn’t fully grasp. And that mystery only deepened his respect.

Wang Chen, however, simply shook his head with a faint smile.

He did not respond to the praise.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward the enormous wooden structure rising in the distance.

The Ancient Winged Race’s ship was almost complete.

The framework stood tall and imposing, its design elegant yet efficient. Their movements were synchronized, precise, with no wasted effort.

Compelling.

"Guess we don’t have time for this," Wang Chen said calmly.

He adjusted his grip on the axe and turned slightly toward the forest.

"Start moving faster, or we’ll be left behind by the Ancient Winged Race."

There was no competitiveness in his tone.

Just practicality.

In the distance, the All-Seeing Immortal—who had been frowning over adjustments to the blueprint again and again—suddenly exhaled in relief.

At least Fellow Wang remained grounded.

If even he had gotten distracted by emotions and admiration, their group would have certainly fallen behind.