Daily Reading

Chapter Twenty-Six: Daily Reading

Spring passed and autumn came—or rather, in the Primordial World, where time flowed on regardless of human will, Chen An's life entered an unprecedented yet fragile period of stability. The Safe Zone's barrier stood like a silent and faithful guardian, cutting him off from the bloody turmoil outside. The vegetable seedlings in the garden grew vigorously under the nourishment of Primordial spiritual energy, their crystalline green becoming the most captivating color in the Small Courtyard. The pottery kiln was crude, but it had successfully fired several usable vessels, greatly improving his daily convenience. Every day, he continued with the necessary tasks: maintaining the barrier (although it seemed not to need maintenance), tending the vegetable garden, managing the pottery, and exploring the safe buffer zone nearby. The gears of survival turned on—painfully, yet steadily.

Once his basic needs had been met, once the smoke of survival had temporarily cleared, a long-forgotten need belonging to a "human being" quietly surfaced—the need for spiritual comfort and the pursuit of knowledge. Before crossing over, reading had been one of Chen An's important ways to relax and obtain information. In this isolated land of the Primordial World, books had become his precious connection to the past and a place to shelter his soul. Fortunately, among the luggage he had brought with him were several books he treasured most. One of them was the Tao Te Ching, with its simple, ancient cover, bearing the ancient wisdom of the East.

On a typical afternoon, Chen An finished watering the garden, then washed the stone bowl and several newly fired pottery vessels before setting them out to dry. The courtyard was filled with the fragrance of earth and the fresh scent of plant leaves. Feeling a rare moment of leisure, he returned to the main house and sat down beside the crude "desk" made from tree trunks and animal hide. Carefully, he took the Tao Te Ching from a compartment in his backpack.

The book's cover had worn down, and its corners were slightly curled, but the pages inside had been preserved relatively well. The paper had taken on a slightly yellowed color from the passage of time and gave off a faint, distinctive scent—a mixture of ink and old things. Chen An gently brushed the dust from the pages, drew a deep breath, and opened the title page.

He did not immediately lose himself in the book. Instead, he habitually looked out the window. The vegetables in the garden stretched their leaves beneath the sunlight, their crystalline green seeming to flow. The Safe Zone's barrier silently cut off all the noise and danger outside. Everything seemed so calm, so... orderly.

He began to read. At first, he read silently, but soon he found himself unconsciously murmuring the words aloud. Those profound and ancient characters flowed from his lips, carrying a strange rhythm:

"The way that can be spoken of is not the eternal Way; the name that can be named is not the eternal Name..."

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

"Knowing contentment prevents disgrace; knowing when to stop prevents danger; this allows one to endure..."

"Reversal is the movement of the Dao; weakness is the way the Dao functions..."

"Misfortune is where fortune leans; fortune is where misfortune hides..."

His voice was not loud and was even somewhat hoarse, bearing the traces left by long journeys and the pressure of survival. Yet in the quiet Small Courtyard, that voice sounded exceptionally clear, like a stream in a mountain ravine slowly flowing over gravel.

Something strange happened.

As he read aloud those passages about the Dao, about nature, about non-action, and about the soft and weak overcoming the hard and strong, Chen An felt that the atmosphere in the courtyard seemed to undergo a subtle change. It was not a change visible to the naked eye, but rather a shift in feeling, a flow in the atmosphere.

Originally, even inside the Safe Zone, the air still retained a faint trace of the Primordial World's raw wildness—a hidden energy that had not been fully tamed, like a ferocious beast locked in a cage. It was not deadly, but it still left one uneasy. Now, as he spoke those peaceful, profound words that followed nature, this hidden energy seemed to be soothed and harmonized by a greater, more inclusive force.

He felt that the air in the courtyard had become more "docile." That faint tension dissipated, replaced by a more peaceful and tranquil atmosphere. It was as though the invisible barrier was no longer merely a cold wall of rules, but had become a gentle boundary connected to Heaven and Earth and to nature. He could sense that the Demonic Beasts outside the courtyard wall, with their violent auras and murderous intent, seemed to be filtered and weakened by the inner harmony stirred up by his reading aloud. They were no longer as aggressive, as though they had been pushed slightly farther away.

This was not an illusion. Chen An focused his mind and sensed that the entire Small Courtyard, himself included, had entered a more coordinated state, one more compatible with this land—even though this land remained dangerous. The crystalline vegetable leaves swayed gently in the breeze, their postures more relaxed, while the stone house's walls seemed to radiate a steadier aura.

He stopped reading aloud and quietly felt the change. Why had this happened?

A thought surfaced in his mind: the Tao Te Ching explained the fundamental laws governing the operation of all things in the universe. It embodied the Dao. The Safe Zone itself was an "other-dimensional space," or perhaps a "domain of rules," constructed by an unknown force in defiance of convention. As the center of this domain, his mental state and thoughts might also be subtly influencing the "character" of the domain.

When he was afraid or anxious, perhaps the Safe Zone was also filled with tense and uneasy energy. But when he calmed himself and recited this ancient wisdom that pursued harmony, followed nature, and sought inner peace, his mental state changed. That change was like a stone cast into a still lake. The ripples it stirred unexpectedly affected the energy field of the entire Safe Zone, making it more docile and harmonious.

This was simply... unbelievable!

Chen An continued reading aloud. This time, he immersed himself more deeply, putting greater care into understanding the meaning of every word. He was no longer merely trying to pass the time; it was more like he was performing a wondrous ritual. As he read, "The Earth follows the Dao, the Heavens follow the Earth, the Dao follows the Heavens, the Dao follows Nature," an epiphany surged through his heart. Living on this Primordial Land, if he wanted to survive, perhaps he should not blindly resist. Instead, he needed to learn to observe, learn, and follow the "Dao" here, finding a way to coexist with this land. The Safe Zone had given him a chance to catch his breath, but true wisdom for survival might be hidden within these ancient words.

As the sun sank in the west, its golden afterglow dyed the Small Courtyard in warm colors. Chen An closed the book, his heart filled with unprecedented peace and fulfillment. He looked up at the sky softened by the Safe Zone, as though he could see the paths along which the universe moved. The day's labor had ended, but his spiritual exploration had only just begun.

Daily reading was no longer merely a pastime to kill time. It had become a bond connecting him to the past, a path for him to understand the present and comprehend the way of survival, and, more than that, the simplest yet most profound force through which he unintentionally harmonized his relationship with his surroundings. In this vast and dangerous Primordial World, one volume of the Tao Te Ching, one stone house, and one small Safe Zone were all he had to establish himself and his life, and to seek the meaning of existence.

(Chapter Twenty-Six End)