Li Yuan sat in the Realm of Questions, surrounded by questions that roamed like living light.
And slowly, he began to feel something strange happening to his perception of time.
It wasn't that he was controlling time—Li Yuan did not have an Understanding of Time. But in the profound stillness of the Realm of Questions, in a silence filled with meaning, time began to... fade.
It was like when a person falls asleep and dreams. In a dream, a person can experience a journey of many years, meet people from the past, and undergo long and complex adventures. But upon waking, it turns out only a few hours have passed.
Li Yuan's Zhenjing worked on a similar principle.
This was not true time manipulation, Li Yuan understood with calm clarity. It was a natural effect of profound inner stillness.
When consciousness is fully immersed in contemplation, when attention is no longer divided by external things like the ticking of seconds or changes in light, time loses its grip on the soul.
It wasn't that time stopped. It wasn't that he sped up or slowed down time. But in pure stillness, consciousness entered a state where time became irrelevant.
Li Yuan felt himself begin to sink into this state. His Understanding of Silence vibrated with a deep harmony, creating a space within the Realm of Questions where questions could be explored without being limited by the anxiety of time passing.
The Space Without a Clock.
That was how Li Yuan felt about this center of his Zhenjing. It wasn't a place where time was manipulated, but a place where time lost its meaning because what mattered wasn't how long, but how deep.
Why am I always in a hurry?
The question emerged in his consciousness like a bubble rising to the surface of still water.
My time is not counted by age, but by the depth of meaning.
The realization touched something fundamental in how Li Yuan viewed his existence. For eleven thousand years, even though he had achieved spiritual immortality, there was still a small part of him that felt a race against time. That felt the need to achieve something before it was too late.
But too late for what? He was already immortal. He already had unlimited time.
The anxiety about time was an old habit from when he was mortal. A habit that was no longer relevant but still cast a shadow over how he approached cultivation and understanding.
In this Space Without a Clock, Li Yuan felt that anxiety slowly melt like snow touching warm ground.
There was nothing he needed to chase. There was no deadline he had to meet. There was only an infinite opportunity to dive into the depths of understanding, to explore the nuances of meaning that might take years to fully comprehend.
Li Yuan began to let his consciousness flow freely among the roaming questions. Each question was like a small galaxy that could be explored in infinite detail.
"What is the Dao?"
Li Yuan followed the question into a complex labyrinth of meaning. The Dao as the path. The Dao as a principle. The Dao as the nothingness that gave birth to everything. The Dao as the pattern underlying chaos. The Dao as the silence that makes music meaningful.
Each aspect of the question opened a door to other aspects. It was like an endless fractal—the deeper he dug, the more depth was revealed.
"Why is there something rather than nothing at all?"
This question led him into a contemplation of existence itself. Why did the universe choose to be? Why did consciousness emerge from unconscious matter? Why could love be born from cold, uncaring laws of physics?
"What is the relationship between one and many?"
Li Yuan pondered how the one Dao could become seventeen different understandings within him. How a single consciousness could contain five million different souls. How unity and diversity could coexist without contradiction.
Time flowed—or perhaps it didn't flow—in a way that could not be measured. Li Yuan didn't feel hunger, thirst, fatigue, or any other physical need because his consciousness body did not require maintenance like a biological body.
All he felt was a profound satisfaction from the process of exploration itself. Every insight gave birth to a new question. Every answer opened a greater mystery.
In this process, Li Yuan began to understand why he rarely used this "different time" effect.
It wasn't because he couldn't. His Understanding of Silence was mature enough to create a space where ten years of contemplation could pass while only a day went by in the outside world.
But because he felt no need to rush.
Depth was more important than speed.
If an understanding required a hundred years to mature fully, why should he force the process into a single day? An understanding that was forced to mature prematurely was like a fruit picked before it was ripe—it looked ready from the outside, but lacked flavor and nutrients.
Li Yuan preferred to let each understanding develop at its natural rhythm. Like water that flows following the contours of the land, not forcing the land to follow the direction of flow it desires.
In this Space Without a Clock, Li Yuan felt a profound peace. There was no pressure. No expectations. Only an infinite space for curiosity and exploration.
He began to understand that perhaps this was one of the greatest gifts of the Realm of Questions—not the ability to speed up or slow down time, but the ability to transcend the need for time at all.
In this state, his understandings could develop at their own organic pace. Like a garden tended patiently, where each plant is allowed to grow according to its own nature.
Li Yuan smiled in the silence filled with questions. Perhaps true wisdom isn't about having answers to all questions, but about having the patience to live with those questions without rushing to find a resolution.
Around him, the questions continued to roam like dancing lights. Not pressing to be answered, not demanding to be solved. They simply were, like faithful companions on a journey that never ends.
And in that companionship, Li Yuan found something perhaps more valuable than any answer: peace with the mystery itself.
The Space Without a Clock didn't require time manipulation because here, time was irrelevant. What was relevant was the depth, intensity, and sincerity in exploring the questions that form the essence of existence.
Li Yuan closed his eyes and allowed himself to be completely absorbed into the ocean of questions that would never run dry.
The journey into the depths of meaning begins now. And on that journey, time is just a small detail not worth thinking about.