After a night had passed, when the neighboring rooster began to crow, Xiang Yang sprang upright as usual with a carp's leap. This time, however, he was even nimbler; the instant he flipped up, he nearly crashed into the wall of his room.
Feeling the lively, agile inner force within him—and sensing that it had indeed grown—Xiang Yang was overjoyed and continued cultivating according to the method recorded in the mental art.
With every individual movement, he consciously adjusted his breathing and the circulation of his inner force. What had begun as awkward and obscure would gradually become familiar, until it turned into instinct.
Back then, Jing Gege had spent a full two years cultivating until it became instinctive, and that was because his mind was simple and steadfast, focused wholly on refinement. If it were Xiang Yang, he would need at least three to five years.
Still, this kind of cultivation was not entirely a good thing. At the very least, Xiang Yang's vision was darkening now, while his belly rumbled like thunder, utterly empty.
This state was simply called being so hungry one fainted. Constant cultivation consumed the innate essence of the human body. Without nourishment, cultivating without restraint could easily train a person straight to death.
And what replenished the body's innate essence? Naturally, the essence absorbed from the five grains and assorted foods.
Xiang Yang had a feeling that he was about to become a true-blue foodie, the kind whose mouth never stopped moving. The True Heart Method should not be called the True Heart Method at all—it would be better named the Taotie Great Method.
A few days passed like this, and the people in the County Yamen gradually discovered that Little Xiang, the constable they liked, had become somewhat different. He always carried cooked