That Is Transcendence

　　After the big yellow dog's eyes emitted a deep blue light, it slumped again. With a weak murmur of "So tired," it fell back into a deep slumber.　　Chen Xia and Zhang Daoming frowned as they inspected the dog, but they couldn't figure out the reason.　　"Is it a flash of vitality before death?" Zhang Daoming asked, puzzled.　　"There's still breathing, so it shouldn't be that. Maybe it's just acting up occasionally, but it's hard to say exactly what's going on," Chen Xia speculated. He stepped forward and patted the dog's head, calling out, "If you're asleep, say something. Have some manners, okay?"　　"It's hard for it to be polite," Zhang Daoming added, shaking his head. "I didn't expect it to wake up and say just a couple of words. It's so disappointing. I thought a real Vast Paragon Emperor would emerge. Then I could have kicked an emperor's butt."　　Chen Xia turned to look at him and made a sharp comment, "I hope you can still maintain this unruly attitude if the Vast Paragon Emperor really shows up in the future."　　"Of course. I'm always consistent," Zhang Daoming sneered.　　Chen Xia didn't say anything more. He turned to look at the big yellow dog, his brows slightly furrowed.　　He heard rapid breathing and a violent heartbeat.　　Zhang Daoming noticed it too and said in a low voice, "This doesn't seem like normal sleep."　　Chen Xia nodded. "It's like the heavy breathing after intense exercise."　　"Did sleeping tire it out?" Zhang Daoming furrowed his brows deeply and continued, "Or could there be some other reason?"　　Zhang Daoming didn't specify what the reason was, but they both knew.　　It was probably related to the Vast Paragon Emperor.　　But exactly what it was remained a mystery.　　Chen Xia scratched his cheek and pointed at the big yellow dog, suggesting to Zhang Daoming, "How about we have a talk with the Vast Paragon Emperor?"　　Zhang Daoming pursed his lips. "Give it a try."　　Chen Xia took a step forward, his tone carrying a hint of negotiation. "Your Majesty the Paragon Emperor, please don't rush. Take it easy, okay?"　　Suddenly, a blue light burst out around the big yellow dog, sending Chen Xia flying more than ten meters away. Fortunately, there was no killing intent, so Chen Xia wasn't injured.　　With a step, he steadied himself, frowning and muttering, "Still angry?"　　Zhang Daoming's brows knitted, and he quietly retreated behind Chen Xia.　　At the moment, they were at a loss about what to do with the sleeping big yellow dog. They couldn't really say anything to it, so they left it in the middle of the yard.　　Thankfully, although the big yellow dog was breathing rapidly and had a strong heartbeat, there were no other unexpected situations. It remained the same as usual.　　The yard was exposed to the wind and sun.　　Chen Xia had thought about building a pavilion for the big yellow dog, but Zhang Daoming said it wasn't necessary. He claimed that experiencing the purest nature would help the dog grow better.　　Although Chen Xia knew this was nonsense, he agreed anyway.　　Because he was really too lazy to build it.　　And being exposed to the wind and sun wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It could prevent the dog from getting damp.　　However, when it rained, Chen Xia had another excuse. He could say it was to avoid the wind and sun.　　He seemed to have an excuse for everything.　　But when there was a heavy downpour, Chen Xia would stand next to the big yellow dog with an umbrella. He wouldn't hold the umbrella for the dog; he just liked watching the dog get drenched.　　If the rain really got too heavy, Chen Xia would go back into the house with the umbrella and come out again when the rain subsided.　　It was okay for the big yellow dog to get more rain. Dogs were born swimmers; it was a racial trait.　　It was hard to tell who was being more "dog-like."　　Apart from this, Chen Xia would also study the Dao of Alchemy in the yard. He had already reached the chapter on spiritual herbs. His understanding of pharmacology and techniques had reached the level for refining spiritual herbs.　　He tried to refine spiritual herbs using orthodox methods. The initial results were not very satisfactory. Materials for low-grade spiritual herbs could only produce mid-grade spiritual herbs.　　This was truly disappointing for Chen Xia.　　Fortunately, he had the spirit to learn from his failures and keep going. He continued to delve into the Dao of Alchemy regarding spiritual herbs, memorizing pharmacology and mastering techniques.　　In the thirtieth year.　　Chen Xia was finally able to use materials for low-grade spiritual herbs to refine low-grade dao pills.　　Following the records in the spiritual herb book, he refined pills at a rate of one pill every ten years. At first, he could only produce low-grade dao pills.　　Whether he used materials for low-grade spiritual herbs or mid-grade spiritual herbs, he could only refine low-grade dao pills.　　The difference was that the low-grade dao pills refined from mid-grade spiritual herb materials were a bit better.　　Obviously, this didn't meet Chen Xia's expectations for himself. He continued to experiment, but he couldn't break through. There always seemed to be something lacking.　　What exactly was missing?　　Was it a deeper understanding of the Dao of Alchemy? Or did he need to further refine his techniques?　　Was it perhaps the poor quality of the alchemy furnace, or the low grade of the alchemy fire?　　Maybe it was even the wrong time.　　These were all the difficulties in alchemy, and they were the aspects that must be paid attention to and mastered.　　After thinking for a long time, Chen Xia finally found the key point.　　It was mainly that he hadn't added enough luck.　　If he had enough luck, he could even refine great pills.　　Chen Xia let out a sigh and murmured to himself, "It turns out I just wasn't working hard enough."　　If he could live hard to several hundred thousand years old, in terms of luck alone, he might be invincible.　　It was my fault.　　He let it go.　　In the following days, Chen Xia didn't do much alchemy. He just read books and practiced techniques, letting everything take its natural course.　　Zhang Daoming, bored at home, would go out to buy some wine. It wasn't top-quality wine, but it wasn't bad either. He would hang a small wine flask on his waist and take a sip whenever he felt like it.　　"Is it good?" Chen Xia asked curiously when he saw this.　　"I don't know. I think they all taste the same. I haven't really felt that richness and smoothness that others talk about. It just tastes like alcohol," Zhang Daoming shook his head.　　"Let me try," Chen Xia waved.　　"Here," Zhang Daoming took off the wine flask from his waist and threw it over.　　Chen Xia held it high and dripped a sip into his mouth. He swallowed it, smacked his lips to savor it, and slightly frowned.　　"How is it?" Zhang Daoming asked with a chuckle.　　"Spicy," Chen Xia replied, frowning. At the same time, he added, "This reminds me of a saying I heard before."　　"What is it?" Zhang Daoming asked curiously.　　"Drink the strongest wine, and... well, never mind the rest," Chen Xia replied.　　Zhang Daoming was probably taken aback for a moment. Then he looked at the big yellow dog and shook his head.　　"I advise you to be kind."　　"Just kidding," Chen Xia said, shaking his head with a smile. He lifted the wine flask and took another sip, then laughed. "But this wine really doesn't have much flavor. It's just spicy. Maybe I just don't know how to appreciate wine."　　"Neither do I," Zhang Daoming replied with a smile. "I just like this tipsy feeling. It allows me to stop thinking about so many things."　　"Such a coward," Chen Xia commented disdainfully.　　Zhang Daoming shook his head. "You're still young. There are some things that are truly beyond your control."　　"Am I young? Well, maybe a bit," Chen Xia replied with a noncommittal smile.　　He was no longer the candidate for the emperor of the Heaven's Edge Sword Sea, nor the immortal of a small world, nor the patrolman of Weixi Town.　　Thousands of years had passed, and everything had changed.　　He had changed, yet remained the same.　　He couldn't always be someone specific, but he would always be Chen Xia.　　A young man full of spirit would always be young.　　Unrestrained by the world, and not willing to live a mediocre life.　　If described in two words.　　It would be...　　Transcendence!