Daily Reading

Chapter 26: Daily Reading

Spring passed and autumn arrived—or rather, as time flowed in the Primordial World, indifferent to human will, Chen An's life entered an unprecedented, fragile period of stability. The Safe Zone's barrier stood like a silent, faithful guardian, cutting him off from the blood and chaos beyond. The vegetable seedlings in the garden, nourished by Primordial spiritual energy, grew vigorously, their crystalline green becoming the most vibrant sight in the small yard. Though crude, the kiln had successfully fired several usable vessels, greatly improving his daily convenience. Each day, he still performed the necessary tasks: maintaining the barrier (though it seemed to need no upkeep), tending the garden, managing the pottery, and exploring the safe buffer zones nearby. The gears of survival turned—arduously, yet steadily.

When basic needs were met and the smoke of survival temporarily cleared, a long-missed, distinctly "human" need quietly surfaced—spiritual solace and the pursuit of knowledge. Before his transmigration, reading had been Chen An's primary way to relax and gather information. In this isolated corner of the Primordial World, books became his precious link to the past, a sanctuary for his soul. Fortunately, among the luggage he had brought were several of his most treasured books, one of which was the Tao Te Ching, its cover bearing the weight of ancient Eastern wisdom.

On a typical afternoon, Chen An finished watering the garden, washed the stone bowl and several newly fired pottery pieces, and set them out to dry. The yard was filled with the fragrance of soil and the fresh scent of plant leaves. Feeling a rare moment of leisure, he walked back to the main room, sat down at the crude "desk" made of a tree trunk covered with animal hide, and carefully retrieved the Tao Te Ching from the inner pocket of his backpack.

The book's cover was worn, its corners curled, but the pages inside were relatively well-preserved. The paper had taken on a slightly yellowed hue from age, exuding a faint, unique scent of ink and old things. Chen An gently brushed the dust off the pages, took a deep breath, and opened to the title page.

He didn't immediately immerse himself. Instead, he habitually looked out the window. The vegetables in the garden stretched their leaves in the sunlight, their crystalline green seeming to flow. The Safe Zone's barrier stood silent, cutting off all noise and danger from the outside. Everything felt so calm, so... orderly.

He began to read. At first, it was silent, but soon he found himself murmuring the words aloud. The profound, archaic text flowed from his lips with a strange rhythm:

"The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao; the name that can be named is not the eternal name..."

"Supreme Goodness is Like Water. Water benefits all things and does not contend..."

"Contentment brings no disgrace; knowing when to stop brings no danger—thus one can endure long..."

"Reversal is the movement of the Dao; weakness is the function of the Dao..."

"Misfortune is what fortune depends on; fortune is where misfortune hides..."

His voice was not loud, even a little hoarse, bearing the marks of long travel and survival pressure. But in the quiet yard, it rang out clearly, like a mountain stream trickling over gravel.

A strange thing happened.

As he read aloud those passages about the Dao, about Nature, about non-action, about the soft overcoming the hard, Chen An felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the yard. It wasn't a visible change, but more a sensation—a flow in the ambiance.

Before, even inside the Safe Zone, the air still carried a faint trace of the Primordial World's raw wildness, a lurking, untamed energy like a caged beast—not deadly, but unsettling. Now, as he recited those peaceful, profound, nature-aligned words, that lurking energy seemed soothed and harmonized by a greater, more encompassing force.

He felt the air in the yard become more "docile." That slight, tense feeling dissipated, replaced by a calmer, more tranquil atmosphere. It was as if the invisible barrier was no longer just a cold wall of rules, but a soft boundary connected to heaven and earth. He could sense that the violent, murderous aura of the Demonic Beasts beyond the yard wall seemed filtered and weakened by this inner harmony his reading had sparked, pushed further away, less aggressive.

This wasn't an illusion. Focusing his senses, Chen An could "perceive" that the entire yard, including himself, had entered a more coordinated state, more compatible with this land (dangerous though it remained). The crystalline vegetable leaves swayed gently in the breeze, their posture more relaxed; the stone walls of the house seemed to exude a steadier presence.

He stopped reading and quietly felt the change. Why was this happening?

A thought surfaced in his mind: The Tao Te Ching expounded the fundamental laws governing all things in the universe—the embodiment of the Dao. And this Safe Zone was itself an "anomalous space" or "rule domain" built by an unknown force, defying convention. As the center of this domain, his mental state, his thoughts, might be subtly influencing its "temperament."

When he was filled with fear and anxiety, the Safe Zone might have been charged with tension and unease. But when he calmed his mind and recited this ancient wisdom that pursued harmony, followed Nature, and inner peace, his mental state changed. That change, like a pebble thrown into a still lake, sent ripples that affected the entire Safe Zone's energy field, making it gentler and more harmonious.

This was... utterly incredible!

Chen An continued reading, this time more deeply, more attentively savoring the meaning of each word. He was no longer just passing the time; it felt like a wondrous ritual. He recited, "The Earth follows the Dao, the Heavens follow the Earth, the Dao follows the Heavens, and Nature follows the Dao," and a realization welled up within him. Here in this Primordial Land, to survive, he should not blindly resist, but learn to observe, study, and follow the Dao of this place—to find a way to coexist with this land. The Safe Zone gave him breathing room, but true survival wisdom might lie hidden in these ancient words.

The sun set in the west, its golden afterglow painting the yard in warm hues. Chen An closed the book, his heart filled with unprecedented peace and fulfillment. He looked up at the sky, softened by the Safe Zone, and seemed to see the trajectory of the universe's movement. The day's labor was done, but his spiritual exploration had only just begun.

Daily reading was no longer just a pastime to kill time. It had become his link to the past, his way of understanding the present and perceiving the path of survival, and even an unintentional, most simple yet profound force for harmonizing himself with his environment. In this vast and dangerous Primordial World, a single volume of the Tao Te Ching, a stone house, and a small Safe Zone were all he had to settle his body and mind and seek the meaning of life.

(End of Chapter 26)