Refining the Heart in the Mortal World

Life inside the triple-gravity room was simply not meant for humans.

Lin Fan squeezed himself into that silver-white metal box like toothpaste every single day, staying inside for hours on end.

When he emerged, he looked as if he had been fished out of water, his face deathly pale and his steps so unsteady he had to cling to the wall just to remain upright.

Every muscle screamed in protest, and a deep, aching soreness permeated the very marrow of his bones.

The most agonizing part was the True Qi at the peak of the Qi Refining stage; under the crushing pressure, it moved as sluggishly and heavily as if it were constipated, and any attempt to force it caused his meridians to twitch in pain.

It was bitter—truly bitter.

But the results were just as tangible.

He could feel that his True Qi, heavy as mercury, was being stripped of its superficiality with every arduous cycle, becoming just a fraction more solid.

The bottleneck remained unyielding, but at least he had found a direction for his efforts.

Bulma clicked her tongue as she watched the monitoring data: "Tsk tsk, your vital signs are fluctuating so violently, and the energy readings are all over the place... Lin Fan, are you sure this 'cultivation' of yours won't suddenly end with a 'bang' and blow you to bits one day?"

She even secretly tucked a few emergency medical robots into the corner of the gravity room.

Lin Fan merely shook his head, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and stepped back inside.

However, the path of cultivation requires a balance of tension and relaxation.

Blindly pushing through with bitter, grueling toil can sometimes yield half the result for double the effort, or even give rise to inner demons.

One day, he crawled out of the gravity room feeling mentally exhausted to the point of collapse, his control over his True Qi becoming sluggish and strained.

He knew he couldn't go on like this.

"I'm going out for a walk."

Lin Fan said to Bulma, who was still buried in optimizing the energy curves for the gravity room.

"Huh? Oh, sure."

Bulma didn't even look up as she replied, "Use my card! I know all the best spots in West City! Want me to recommend a few bars?"

Lin Fan smiled without answering. He changed into the casual clothes Bulma had bought him—which fit the style of this world much better—and walked alone out of the Capsule Corporation's massive, fortress-like gates.

Outside lay the bustling, surreal, and kaleidoscopic West City.

Streams of hovercars wove silently between skyscrapers, holographic advertisements flickered with dazzling brilliance, stylish pedestrians hurried along, and small aircraft occasionally zipped through the air.

On giant screens, interviews with fighting stars or the latest commercials for Capsule Corporation played on a loop.

A wave of noise and heat, filled with the essence of technology and daily life, rushed toward him—a stark contrast to the cold, focused, and almost masochistic atmosphere of his cultivation in the laboratory.

Lin Fan squinted slightly to adjust to the intense contrast before strolling into the flow of the crowd.

He had no destination; he just walked at random.

He passed street food stalls overflowing with aroma, watching the vendors expertly stir-fry exotic, mouth-watering delicacies he had never seen before, listening to the sizzle of the oil and the satisfied sighs of the customers.

He passed a lively arcade, where the shouts of teenagers and the sound effects of games echoed amidst flashing lights.

He passed a park, seeing children chasing each other, old men playing chess leisurely, and couples whispering in each other's arms.

He even passed a martial arts gym, hearing the "he-ha" of training and the dull thuds of energy blasts striking targets.

He just watched and listened.

He saw people struggling for a living, their faces weary yet full of drive.

He saw those enjoying life, their smiles simple and genuine.

He saw those pursuing power, their eyes focused and hungry.

These were the most ordinary facets of the mortal world, the most authentic appearance of the masses in this high-martial-arts setting.

He realized he had been stuck in a rut.

He had buried himself in the laboratory and the gravity room, with eyes only for cultivation, bottlenecks, pills, and artifacts, nearly forgetting what a vibrant and vast world he was in.

To cultivate immortality is not just to cultivate power, but to cultivate the heart.

If one only shuts themselves away to build a carriage behind closed doors, how can they comprehend the heavens and earth? How can they clearly perceive their own heart?

The Great Dao Source Scripture also mentioned that reading ten thousand books is not as good as traveling ten thousand miles; experiencing the mortal world is also a form of cultivation.

His mind gradually calmed, and the exhaustion and irritability accumulated from days of bitter training quietly dissipated amidst the smoke and fire of the marketplace.

His divine sense was no longer tightly bound within his body; instead, it extended outward naturally, no longer deliberately sensing the strength of energy, but feeling the joys, sorrows, and vitality flowing through the lives of all beings.

Without realizing it, he walked to a quiet street corner and saw an old woman selling handmade crafts from a stall. Business was slow, yet the old woman wore a peaceful smile as she carefully wiped each small item.

Lin Fan crouched before her stall, his gaze sweeping over the trinkets made of ordinary materials, yet filled with ingenuity.

"Take a look, young man."

The old woman said with a chuckle.

Lin Fan picked up a peculiar little bird made from polished scrap parts and asked, "How much for this?"

"Not expensive, not expensive at all. Fifty Zeni will do."

Lin Fan paid the money and took the small metal bird. It felt cold to the touch, and the craftsmanship was nothing to boast about, yet he could feel the heart and time the maker had poured into it.

"Thanks for your patronage, young man."

The old woman smiled as she tucked the money away. "You don't look like a local. Are you here for the World Martial Arts Tournament?"

Lin Fan was slightly taken aback and shook his head. "No, I'm just... wandering around."

"Wandering is good," the old woman rambled on. "Young people shouldn't always be so tightly wound. Look at this world—it's so interesting."

Lin Fan felt a stir in his heart and nodded. "You're right."

He held the small metal bird and continued to walk aimlessly, his state of mind becoming increasingly clear and transparent.

The slight sense of frustration brought on by his previous failure to break through the bottleneck had completely vanished.

The bottleneck was there, and being anxious was useless.

It was better to keep his feet on the ground, tempering his True Qi step by step and gaining insight into the world; when the time was right, success would come naturally.

By the time he sauntered back to the gate of Capsule Corporation, dusk was falling. Bulma happened to rush out, seemingly on her way to look for him.

"Oh! Where did you run off to? I thought you'd gotten lost!"

Bulma complained, then noticed the metal bird in his hand. "Huh? What's this? Some cheap street trinket? Why did you buy this?"

Lin Fan smiled and handed the bird to Bulma. "Just bought it on a whim. It's for you."

Bulma paused, took it, and turned it over in her hands, pouting. "The craftsmanship is really rough... but the design is quite unique... Thanks!"

She shoved it into her pocket and excitedly pulled Lin Fan inside. "Come quick! I fixed the stabilization system for the Gravity Room! Theoretically, it can support five times gravity! But for safety's sake, let's start testing at three point five times..."

Lin Fan let her pull him along, feeling the familiar hum of technology returning to his side, a peaceful smile playing on his lips.

One day of tempering his heart in the mortal world was better than ten days of sitting in meditation.

His heart was now even more serene.