"When two choices are presented before you, don't rush to pick one. Instead, consider if you can choose both."
"If you can choose both, then do so."
"If you can't, then make a choice."
"Cultivators who think about choosing one or the other from the start are blockheads."
Mo Hua opened his mouth in surprise.
He hadn't expected Old Kui, who was usually so serious, to say something like that.
"What if I can't choose either?" Mo Hua asked quietly.
"Then there's no use in dwelling on it. Things that can't be chosen, even if you consider them, are meaningless and just waste time," Old Kui replied.
Mo Hua nodded, finding these words to be very true.
He then remembered something else and frowned:
"Grandpa Gui, what if someone forces me to make a difficult choice?"
Old Kui replied straightforwardly: "Then you just kill that person!"
Mo Hua was stunned.
Old Kui continued: "Kill that person, and no one will force you to choose, and then you can have it all."
"What if I can't beat him, what if I can't kill him?"
"Then you can only blame your own incompetence," Old Kui said hoarsely, "In such a situation, being forced into it, it really doesn't matter how you choose."
Mo Hua nodded, "So you really need to be strong, that way you can choose what you want in the future..."
After pondering deeply for a moment, Mo Hua suddenly realized he had strayed off-topic and brought the conversation back to the matter of spells:
"Grandpa Gui, can I choose both forms of the Fireball Technique?"
Old Kui nodded, "A deep red fireball represents the state of Spiritual Power, and a thread-like fireball represents the form of Spiritual Power. They are not in conflict and can both be chosen, but..."
Old Kui glanced at Mo Hua, "it's difficult."
Mo Hua asked, "What should I do?"
Old Kui was hesitant; he didn't want to say much initially, but considering the empty pine nut shells he had cracked, he felt a bit obliged and said:
"It's a bit early for you to learn this, but you can start getting an idea."
Mo Hua immediately sat up straight, listening attentively.
But instead of speaking, Old Kui took out a tuft of cotton from nowhere.
This tuft of cotton was just ordinary cotton.
With a clench of Old Kui's palm, the cotton was pressured, compressing and twisting on its own into a cotton thread.