"Thus, this technique of yours is useless against me," Xiao De very solemnly declared to Chen Changsheng.
Adding more hot water into a wooden basin wouldn't make the water start boiling, and a pile of mud higher than the Mausoleum of Books would still not be harder than rock. Even if Chen Changsheng really could become ten thousand Chen Changshengs, he could not rely on this increase in numbers to break into a higher level.
This was not a concept difficult to understand.
Cultivating was the most unfeeling matter in the world. It had never been believed that diligence could make up for lack of talent, or that a change in quantity could effect a change in quality.
