Gazing out into the expanse of placid water, Yi Qiang felt simply lost.

As far as the marksman could remember, he was always working toward something. Now, though... what was there to do?

The answer probably isn't at the bottom of the sea, either. Even if it is, there's no hope of me getting there. I can potentially improve my swimming technique, but water pressure is an insurmountable barrier.

He sat down at the edge with dull eyes. His feet kicked hopelessly in the air as the marksman couldn't even bring himself to start thinking furiously once again. Instead, he just sat there, filled with numb sluggishness.

The most terrifying part was that even as he laughed at himself for being overwhelmed by emotions, even as he knew he should be angry...

Yi Qiang couldn't bring up a single ounce of anger at this realization. Only resignation.

Disgust started to rise up within him; at himself, the Cloud Court, Ascend itself... the target was vague, but the emotion was unbridled and uncontrollable.

It started to build up until it overrode and replaced his helplessness, driving him to get up and away from the edge. It left him standing, there, though, lost and disgruntled.

Even though he was consciously aware that this behavior was blocking him from his goals, Yi Qiang still couldn't bring himself to take steps to stop it. He just stood there, brewing, his muscles filling with untapped energy. It felt like an ocean was building up within his body, particularly inside his chest, and the marksman had no way to release it.

His upper lip curled in anger and disgust before the marksman rushed to the edge, frenziedly digging his fingers into the soft ground and hurling it out into the ocean.

In a few minutes, the wrathful energy started to dissipate as Yi Qiang vented, putting everything he had into each clump of dirt he threw which sent it spiraling hundreds of meters into the sea and sinking in, leaving nothing but a ripple on the surface.

The jittery, unsatisfied feeling inside his chest slowly left him, and the marksman collapsed to the ground, spent.

Even as he faced the tribulation of idleness for the first time, the marksman's habits had not completely abandoned him - Yi Qiang was easily still capable to keep track of time.

This time, though, it may have worked against him.

The number of days he had left was like a great weight, pressing down upon him. His mind was restless under it, constantly seeking some way to get past this.

I can't fail this. The Empyrean Dragon scale... it's perfect for Shenyu! And the competition - I made a promise! I can't fail this; if I just get past this, my success is almost guaranteed.

After three days, Yi Qiang was near failing and confident he tried everything that could plausibly be done.

He had dug down as deep as possible into the plateau, only to discover the soft dirt eventually gave way to hard rock. After that, he gave up on uncovering anything beneath the stone, as he had neither the tools nor the physical ability to penetrate the rock.

He explored as much as possible of the sea, first swimming in one direction. However, even as his muscles started seizing up in exhaustion, there was no end in sight, nothing that differentiated itself from the endless ocean. Eventually, he drowned once again, having pushed his muscles until they could physically exert no more force.

Another life and another day were spent constantly circling around the plateau, expanding in larger and larger orbits until his stamina, once again, faded. Nothing, once again, was found.

Yi Qiang wasn't sure if the remaining ten days were a blessing or a curse.

Seven days. That was how long it took Yi Qiang to thoroughly lose his mind.

Unfortunately, it seems natural marks of the passing of time were not hampered in the Cloud Court, as in seven days, Yi Qiang's beard started to grow overwhelming. It had already been 24 days since he entered the course, and the facial hair piling up was just another reminder to the marksman of how far he had begun to slip. Usually, he would manage a close shave using Empyrean Dragon's Armaments, but now that he had no access to the ability and no bladed objects, there was nothing for him to do.

If one were to see him right now and contrast him to the person the marksman was when he entered, the difference was stark. His eyes had lost all the traces of sharpness that the first two stages not only failed to suppress but even honed. In its place was pure lethargy.

His beard was unkempt, and his hair had grown inordinately long in this month-long period of no grooming. The marksman had already noticed that the growth of his hair had only seemed to increase along with his Constitution, which, perhaps, made sense.

Yi Qiang lay on the ground, plucking aimlessly at his beard. All vestiges of hope that he would pass this stage had long since left him.

After the fifth day, he had even stopped caring about what would come after. All that Yi Qiang wanted was to leave.

He stared out into the ocean, watching the waves roll and crash gently against the rock base of the plateau. Suddenly, his perspective shifted.

No longer was the stillness of his heart boredom or ennui; no longer did it mean his mind was lost without something specific to focus on.

The hopelessness in his eyes shifted.

Finally, the marksman found tranquility.

He lost the goals, the still-burning ambition in his heart. It was that flame of desire, of the need to be constantly working, that had been slowly burning him from the inside.

As he stared into the small, constant waves of the ocean, Yi Qiang realized why this stage had affected him so much. His training, ever since childhood, had worked against him, for once. Ever since young, the marksman had been taught to constantly work, whether he was training, preparing, or in the field. The only stillness he ever experienced was the perfect freeze a sniper would lie in, for hours at a time. Even then, though, his mind was always working, calculating variables, monitoring anything that could interfere with his shot.

For the first time ever, as far back as Yi Qiang's memory went, he actually had nothing to do. That was what truly bothered him.

It's ironic, Yi Qiang thought to himself. The profession that places the most emphasis on stillness... so thrown off by any true stop.

Unbothered by the passing of time, anymore, the marksman became content with just watching the waves lap against the rock of the cliff, a comfortable, repetitive sound.

He fell asleep calmly and peacefully, Yi Qiang's chest rising and falling to the rhythm of the ocean.