He was racing against the clock and had no time to waste. He had no idea if 30 years was long or short for this amount of improvement, but any time he wasted was time separating him from the Tao.

  Many things were too complicated and elusive for Avery to understand, and he was miles away from grasping its true nature, but he knew it was wonderful. It wasn’t a sentient being or an unfeeling and robotic arbiter of the cosmos. It was more than that, it was the ultimate source of everything. It did not rule, and it did not need to. It was the universe itself, and all that existed flowed according to its original image.

  The only exception to that were enlightened beings. Anytime a creature gained a certain level of intelligence, be it because of its race, cultivation or a chance encounter, they would be partially liberated by the shackles of nature, able to influence the world around them according to their wishes and efforts, in both good and bad. They would be granted free will, and the opportunity to change, destroy or even improve the natural order.

  Just like two perfect spheres could differ in size, density, color or any number of parameters, being perfect did not mean having no room to grow. the Tao was a mind-numbingly complex puzzle, where every piece fit perfectly together to form a beautiful picture, and there was no better way to assemble all of them.

  However, sometimes enlightened beings could change some of these pieces or how they fit together, and consequently change the overall picture the puzzle was showing. Some even managed to add a new piece to the puzzle, like for example a Saint creating the six reincarnations.

  It all stemmed from a singular and beautiful design, a parent trusting its child to help him, take care of him and help him grow. Free will was the only threat to a perfectly ordered cycle, but they were also its only hope of change and improvement.

  And that was Avery’s chance. He was a foreigner, uninvited and unwanted, but if he proved his worth, and showed that he could improve the world, then he would be accepted with open arms.

  He needed to capitalise on what he had gained, and to understand the world deeply enough to be able to improve it.

Fortunately, while visualising the Tao had had some disastrous unforeseen consequences, it had also brought a tremendous amount of knowledge. Seeing the Tao directly was a once in a lifetime opportunity any immortals would kill for, because it was equivalent to reading the encyclopedia of the entire world.

  Many things were too complicated and elusive for Avery to understand, and most of those he could have no direct relation to runes, but the tiny fraction of truths he understood were enough to completely reshape his understanding of the world. Since Runes were an expression of the world, understanding the world was understanding the foundation of the runes.

  This was like a master alchemist could learn basic forging many times faster than a new cultivator. It wasn't the knowledge or skills translated between professions, it was because they were both an expression of the Tao, and the alchemist could use his mastery of the Tao gained through medicine to learn forging from the roots.

  Avery now had a much higher perspective than before, which would be of immeasurable help. It wouldn't suddenly make him better at inscribing, but it would help him progress at lightning speed, and avoid many unnecessary detours.

  The first thing he realised was he was getting the 4 elements wrong. It was painfully obvious in retrospect, but this was a world following Chinese mythology logic and not European alchemist rules, so it had a fundamental principle of 5 elements instead of four, composed of Fire, Water, Wood, Metal or Gold, and Earth or Soil. He also had to consider the complicated relationship between each element, and try to make his visualisation as real as possible.

  He believed his initial scene to be solid, so he once again did his best to restore it and heal his shattered mental landscape, trying everything and anything that he could think of. This time there was no laziness or languid desolation, but only rushed passion, as he was incredibly eager to get it over with and take a step towards the Avenue.

  It turned out the solution was both exceedingly simple and bordering on the impossible. He could easily rejoin broken off parts of his vision just by imagining it. He needed to focus on a specific fragment and picture it slowly drifting back to collide with the central one. Once they crashed into each other, he would envision them merging, the stray golden strands of the Tao acting as thread to sew them together.

  The impossible part was in the execution. As previously mentioned, focusing on multiple shards brought him so much pain and suffering he feared he would die of a heart attack.

  Not only that, but he couldn't convey intent without his mental landscape being absolutely flawless, and he must have millions of miniscule splinters scattered about. The amount of pain was the same regardless of the size of the portions he was reassembling, so the entire ordeal was an unending torture.

  But Avery was a man driven by an overpowering yearning for the Tao, and nothing would hinder his progress. If his will to survive had been enough to guide through two years of loneliness and misery, his newfound craving for the Truth, which was infinitely stronger, would carry him to the ends of the earth and beyond, disregarding any obstacles, surpassing any challenge.

  One after the other, he drew and stitched the debris together, accepting the torture as a punishment for his heinious and disrepectful act, as he slowly repaired his mind to recreated a suitable canvas for his art.

  The time he spent was inconsequential, and he was in too much pain to count the hours or calculate the number of time warps used, but his mind was still clear, always looking to the future and dreaming of his reunion with the Avenue.

  Finally, his torment ended with his visualisation being whole again, all of the repairs clearly indicated by a multitude of glowing stitches.

  Without taking a second to catch his breath or to appreciate his achievement, Avery directly started to consider his next step, and how to accomplish it

  His immediate goal was to find a way to control mana without his pen, after which he would strive to escape his current predicament, stuck as he was at the bottom of an obscure chasm. Then he would be free to pursue his lifetime obsession, the Tao. He would endeavor to get accepted by the world, and to find his path to walk on the Supreme Avenue.

  While he was brimming with boundless motivation, with countless ideas flying around in his head, he knew he had to stay grounded, and start small. He had resolved his mental wound in a surprisingly straightforward manner, and thought he had understood a trend in the world.

  The world did not take kindly to rash shortcuts or foolhardy tricks, but rather rewarded perseverance and persistent efforts. He would probably never encounter an insurmountable obstacle in his quest to mastering mana, but it would require an insane amount of work, compensated with a slow but consistent growth in skills.

  He was on a path leading to the Tao, and he needed to take things step by step and accept it would be a long and laborious journey.

  He would not be asked to jump over boulders or swim across the ocean, but he would need to repeat the simple task of moving his foot hundreds of millions of times, crossing mountains and precarious bridges. Each step would not be hard, but if he was unlucky, one misstep might be enough to make him fall down off the path and into an inescapable chasm.

  That being said, he also needed to make sure he was taking the right path, and not just a deceitful animal trail that disappeared soon after leading him in a wrong direction. With all that he had learned from the Avenue, he now saw many foundational flaws in his visualisation, beyond the fact it was so decayed it could barely be recognised.

  After weighing his options, he finally decided against restoring it anew, and instead reworked it from the ground up, despite the fact it would invalidate much of his previous work. He was prepared to work tirelessly for his goal, and starting from the wrong foot would cost him more in the long run than a little restructuring right now.

  Putting his thought into action, he changed the four planets into 5 elemental planes whose principles were dictating the operation of the galaxy orbiting around the black hole. He also attempted to insert concepts, like yin and yang, but discovered that if he didn't have a deep enough understanding of a concept, haphazardly forcing it in would only diminish the quality of the painting.

  Just as before, he was having trouble picturing all this clearly simultaneously, but any built up frustration was wiped away by a deep seated anxiety of losing his only hope of escape, along with a terrible yearning to relive that brief contact with the supreme Avenue.

  Gone were the days when he would try anything that came to mind, and gone were the days when he would test his every conjecture.

  His leisurely exploration suddenly became a stressful race, and he took every element one at a time and branded their existence deep into his subconscious, until it would require no effort from him to picture it in exquisite detail. As the galaxy improved, his state of mind improved, and he saw hints of the reflection of the Tao in his craft. He took this as confirmation he was on the right path, and from there was able to force himself to enjoy the journey.

  He spent half a year redrawing and perfecting the same image, until it felt so real he couldn't find a way to improve it anymore. The galaxy had changed drastically over time, until even the five elemental planes disappeared. They were no longer needed, as the concept of the five elements had permeated deep into the foundations of the imaginary world. Just as gravity was invisible, the five elements simply existed, without the need for anything to reveal them.