"Guy, don't mislead your student," Wen Lan said calmly as he walked over.
"A genius is called a genius because the things you spend your whole life striving to achieve—he can accomplish with a flick of his finger.
If talent didn't matter, it wouldn't be called talent."
Guy's expression stiffened.
Those words were clearly a bucket of cold water poured over his disciple's hopes—but he had no way to refute them. Encouragement was all he had ever relied on for Rock Lee.
Effort could narrow the gap.
But it rarely erased the chasm created by talent.
Rock Lee lowered his head. His fists clenched tightly, then slowly loosened.
Tears shimmered in his eyes—mixed with stubbornness and unwillingness to give up.
He looked up at Guy, his voice hoarse.
"Guy-sensei… is what Assistant-sama said… true?"
Guy opened his mouth to argue, but the words stuck in his throat.
He couldn't speak.
Unconsciously, he glanced toward his father, Might Duy.
His father had been just like Lee. That was the very reason Guy had taken Lee as his student.
Duy's talent wasn't low—but it wasn't high either. Yet because he couldn't use ninjutsu and relied solely on taijutsu, his career had peaked at jonin level.
And in the original timeline, Lee would follow a similar path—brilliant during the Chunin Exams, then fading from the spotlight for a long time.
Wen Lan stepped beside Rock Lee, his shadow falling over the boy.
Lee looked up.
Wen Lan's expression remained calm.
"Lee, why do you train in ninjutsu?
Is it to surpass geniuses?
Or to show off your strength?"
"No!"
Lee answered immediately, without hesitation.
"I train to protect the village! I want to become someone like Guy-sensei and the Hokage—someone who can protect the village!"
His voice was firm, and his eyes carried a determination far beyond his age.
"Good answer," Wen Lan said.
"Then why must you surpass geniuses?"
He crossed his arms and spoke seriously.
"Remember this, Lee.
Geniuses are called geniuses because they are born with exceptional foundations and grow rapidly in training.
But I'll tell you something else:
A genius who never grows… is not a genius.
And a genius who stops working hard will eventually become mediocre.
But someone who keeps working hard—even if he can't surpass geniuses—will never become mediocre.
Your effort isn't meant to compete with geniuses.
It's meant to carve an unforgettable path across the long road of destiny.
True strength doesn't depend on where you start.
It depends on whether you ever stop moving forward.
Training is like running.
Running fast doesn't guarantee victory—
but not falling down is success, 8848 titanium—"
He caught himself mid-sentence.
That advertising slogan from childhood TV had nearly slipped out of his mouth.
Even though he stopped short, the message had already landed.
The light in Rock Lee's eyes grew brighter and brighter.
Finally, he spoke.
"I understand what Assistant-sama means!
I don't train to fight others or prove myself.
I train to protect the village.
Even if I'm not a genius, I must never become mediocre.
As long as I keep working hard, I will walk my own path as a ninja."
Wen Lan smiled.
He reached out and firmly patted Lee on the shoulder.
"Well said.
The path of training is difficult. What keeps you moving forward is belief.
That belief can be greed, evil, justice, protection—whatever it is.
Belief is what matters most.
And now, you already have it."
"I understand!"
Rock Lee bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your guidance, Assistant-sama!"
He straightened up, turned to Guy, and suddenly shouted with renewed energy:
"Guy-sensei! I feel my blood burning! Let's run fifty kilometers cross-country!"
"LEE!"
Guy's eyes instantly filled with tears. He lunged forward and hugged him.
"This is the power of youth!"
"GUY-SENSEI!"
The two of them clung to each other, crying loudly, tears and snot streaming everywhere.
Wen Lan couldn't bear to look.
Two men dressed in tight green outfits hugging and sobbing—it was almost too much.
He quietly turned his back, pretending to admire the distant mountains while the corner of his mouth twitched.
Their emotional explosion was so intense it felt as if the entire wind of Konoha had stopped.
At last, they finished crying.
Guy wiped his tears, stood proudly with hands on his hips, and declared:
"For our youth! For a bright tomorrow! Let us train together—
One hundred kilometers cross-country begins now!"
"Yes, Guy-sensei!"
Lee shouted.
"If I can't run one hundred kilometers, I'll do ten thousand push-ups!"
"And if I can't do ten thousand push-ups, I'll frog-jump fifty kilometers!"
The enthusiastic master and student ran off into the distance, growing smaller and smaller.
Wen Lan watched them go, his mouth twitching again.
When their figures finally disappeared down the village road, he sighed.
"This isn't training. It's performance art."
Might Duy looked at Wen Lan with a warm smile.
"Wen Lan, thank you for bringing us food again."
"Oh, come on," Wen Lan replied with a grin, pulling two steaming rice balls from his pack and handing one over.
"You're my teacher. Bringing food is the least I can do."
They sat side by side on the steps, each holding a rice ball.
Ever since Duy had taken that blow from the Seven Ninja Swordsmen to protect Wen Lan, his health had never been the same.
Yet he had never complained once.
Over time, his condition worsened. He could no longer serve as a ninja—but he still ran every morning at the village entrance.
Even if he could only manage ten kilometers, he always finished.
Wen Lan had once offered him his blood—an ability that could grant immortality, perfect health, even the potential to use ninjutsu.
But Duy refused.
He had said:
"What's so good about living forever?
I've worked hard. I've failed. I've succeeded. I have no regrets.
All I want now is to watch Guy and Lee keep running—
to pass this persistence on.
Of course, if I could hold a grandson or granddaughter someday, that would be even better.
And if one day I truly don't want to die, I'll come ask you for your blood."
Hearing that, Wen Lan's mouth had twitched.
He respected Duy deeply—but that last wish felt almost impossible.
Did the Might family really not realize their reputation in Konoha?
They were practically the symbol of lovable lunatics.
Once, Wen Lan had even overheard two neighbors arguing.
One had shouted:
"You're from the Might family! Your whole family is from the Might family!"
At the time, Wen Lan had nearly burst out laughing.
Duy seemed to sense Wen Lan's unspoken thoughts.
But he simply smiled—honest and warm, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes spreading like ripples in sunlight.
He took a bite of his rice ball and spoke softly:
"I know people laugh at us for being foolish.
But someone in this world has to keep running— for a light no one else can see."
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