It had been too long since Merlin had focused on his own cultivation.

He saw that now.

Not that he had been lazy during the preceding centuries. Far from it. There had, quite simply, been too much to be done. Too many wars that needed his presence to tip the scales. Too many apprentices requiring personal guidance. Too many demons to be dispatched back to whence they came.

Amongst all that hurly-burly, when was the last time he had genuinely focused on cultivating his Qi?

Well, it was now far too late for ‘what ifs.’

Stolen story; please report.

Time was an unforgiving mistress whose forbearance with his frivolity had run out.

Even so close to the end, he still had thought he could force the necessary breakthrough. Sensing the stalking approach of his death, he had withdrawn from Court life and dedicated his focus to cultivation. Closeted up in his tower for these last few months, he had thought he was close enough to the threshold to make up for the centuries of neglect.

But, alas, no inspiration had arrived. So here he was, seconds from death.

Strangely, the fear he had anticipated would arrive at this moment was not there. Yes, there were things he had left undone: intricate plans would now crumble; allies would fall; foes would rise.

But, he left this realm a better place than it would otherwise have been. And that would need to be enough.

He just wished –