Amon, The lowest tier disciple in the Insanity Sect

The jar was finally empty. My hands were pruney, my back ached, and my soul felt like it had been wrung out.

"Done," I croaked, slamming the jar down in front of Master Fang Zheng.

He inspected it like a jeweler examining a fake gem. "Hmm. Not bad. You didn't cheat this time, did you?"

"Cheat?" I scoffed. "Do I look like someone smart enough to cheat?"

Fang Zheng nodded thoughtfully. "Fair point."

I slumped against the wall, hoping this was the end of his torment. Instead, he produced a small scroll and handed it to me.

"What's this?" I asked, unrolling it.

"Your next lesson," he replied. "You'll meditate on these words until they seep into your very bones."

I squinted at the scroll. It was filled with nonsense like, 'The moon's shadow does not chase the sun, yet both remain in balance.'

"What does this even mean?" I asked.

Fang Zheng shrugged. "Figure it out."

For hours, I stared at the scroll, repeating the phrases to myself like a madman. Somewhere along the line, my thoughts started twisting. The moon was laughing at me, the sun was wagging its fiery finger, and the jar—oh, the jar—was back, taunting me.

By the end of the day, I was pacing in circles, muttering gibberish.

Fang Zheng watched from the side, stroking his beard. "He's either on the verge of a breakthrough or completely losing it."

Spoiler alert: It was the latter.