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To Brant, every riddle in this world had an answer. It was simply a matter of time.\nLike water gnawing at stone, drop by drop, year after year, until a hole is finally pierced through. So it was for the Mohist quest for the heavens.\nIf a century yields no hope, then count by the millennium. Only then can a glimmer of hope be found.\nWith this realization, Brant had been in the outer sect just over a year.\nIt felt like a path already paved. In a single glance, he could see the man he would become decades from now.\nStudying the intricate flying eagle mechanisms was undeniably fascinating. Yet the deeper he studied, the more those hundred years felt like a single, fleeting breath.\nHe'd write a few treatises and craft some new mechanisms. Eventually, he'd earn a name and take on a few disciples who might one day walk the path he had envisioned.\nHe often spoke of dripping water piercing stone, and the humble dew enriching the soil. The logic was sound, yet he felt a lack of... fire.\nHe could see the future, yet he didn't know how to hold on long enough to reach it.\nMust every falling drop carry the exact same glint of hope?\nSuddenly, it hit him: the riddles of this world need not have one single solution.\nThough many strive toward the same destination, the paths they take are theirs alone to choose.\nAs the ancients said, "Read thousands of books and travel thousands of miles." He had read enough books. Now the journey lay before him.\nTime to take the first step forward.