Usually, if Daneel were stuck in a situation like this where the only option was to put himself in life-threatening danger, he would have been panicking by now.
After all, the other party was an Eminent Warrior with unknown trump cards while he was still an Exalted Human.
However, ever since he had gotten the message that someone had stepped into the vicinity of the Withering Leaf Sect Headquarters, he had gotten a suspicion that his method of going about being a Warrior was flawed.
The experiences of the top assassins had been invaluable, but instead of sitting down and understanding them in-depth, Daneel had rushed into trying out a plan because of the urgency he felt.
That had been his first mistake. The 'need' varied from individual to individual, but the moment of it appearing was never perfectly planned by anyone. If so, how could he have hoped to make it e by just directly applying what the others had gone through?
Secondly, from his experience on Earth, Daneel knew that this 'need' might correspond to some evolutionary instinct of an organism to continue surviving.
Although the method varied, stepping past the threshold was all about adapting oneself into a higher realm. That was the clue: to push past.
If so, the end goal in his mind during his training had been correct, but his way of going about it had been pletely wrong.
A man who was in a fight would definitely not try to push his limits if he knew that there was no risk of him dying.
It was very simple logic, but one that he had missed in his hurry.
Regardless, he would soon have a chance to test his hypothesis.
Closing his eyes, he entered into a state of meditation first, where he constantly told himself that he could rely on himself in the next fight. Either he would win, or die.
If his opponent ended up being too weak, then he would just have to look for a different, stronger one.
But if that was not the case, then he would either break through or die trying.
The fate of Angaria itself rested on his shoulders, and as he realized it, his chest puffed up with confidence.
For all those who were depending on him, he had to do it, no matter what.
This self-hypnosis worked, as he felt his heart beat rising in anticipation of a blood-boiling petition.
He would use every trick in the damn book. Nothing was off-limits.
For once, he was going to go all out.
…..
As the sect leader wandered through the Valley, he kept trying hard not to let his mind stray from his goal of killing the King of Lanthanor.
If he had succeeded before, he wouldn't have found himself in this position now, where he was constantly reminded of a few scenes in his mind.
The first was always the same: it was the one where he could only watch as the elders of the sect were slaughtered before they made their way out of the Valley of Mist.
The second, though, was very strange.
It looked just like the first one, but it was morphed.
Sect members had been slaughtered left and right, but instead of watching from afar, the sect leader was amongst them.
He could see clearly with his own eyes how each of the bodies had a disbelieving and fearful look on their faces, as if they couldn't get themselves to believe who or what had killed them.
Each body had a large hole in the stomach area, and they all also looked like their blood had been drained.
Through all this, the sect leader was constantly walking between them.
Women, children, teenagers. Whoever the culprit was, he had shown no mercy.
There was one thing which was off: no matter what the sect leader did, he did not look down at his own hands.
Repeatedly, he kept chanting the words "King of Lanthanor
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