Reflecting on Cultivation, Adjusting Direction

I leaned against the wall and slowly stood up. My palms pressed against the stone, and a coolness crawled up my skin. My legs were still trembling, but they could support my body now. The Baihui Acupoint on my head felt like it had been pricked by needles, throbbing with pain, but it was much better than the chaotic surge of energy before.

The room was quiet. The animal hide on the roof still rustled, the wind gusting and then subsiding. I looked up at the loosened vine, its knot askew on the beam, hanging down like a frayed rope. I didn't touch it. I had thought about fixing it just now, but now I felt no rush. This room wouldn't collapse, just like I wouldn't fall now.

I lowered my head and touched my chest. The broken spirit stone was still in my embrace, placed against my skin. It had lost its light and was no longer warm, but I could feel its presence. This was the first item I had ever used, the starting point of my cultivation. It was broken, but I couldn't discard it.

I walked back to the corner and sat down cross-legged. I didn't rush to close my eyes or immediately circulate my spiritual power. I simply placed my hands on my knees, feeling the rise and fall of my breath. My Dantian felt incredibly empty, almost devoid of any airflow, but I didn't reach for any elixirs. I wanted to first understand my current state clearly.

My meridians still ached. It wasn't a burning sensation, nor a cutting one, but a dull soreness like that of calves after running ten miles. I slowly extended my consciousness inwards, starting from the Yongquan Acupoint at the soles of my feet and moving up along the meridians. Wherever I encountered a blockage, I paused for a few extra breaths.

When I reached the Yuzhen Pass, my fingers involuntarily curled. That area was the most severe. When I had forced my way through, my spiritual power had exploded, nearly tearing the entire Du Meridian apart. Although it had stabilized now, the damage remained. I memorized this location, knowing clearly that I had to proceed slowly here in the future.

The System's red text reappeared in my mind: "Slowly guide for three breaths, focus on the Niwan Palace, and reverse the Du Meridian to return to the Ren Meridian." Twelve characters, each carrying weight. It wasn't the first time I had seen them, but it was the first time I truly understood their meaning.

"Slow" wasn't just about speed; "focus" wasn't about blocking; "return" wasn't about pulling it back, but letting it return on its own. It was like river water reaching a cliff edge and naturally flowing downwards. I shouldn't have pushed it forcefully, nor should I have tried to stop it.

I closed my eyes and recalled the basic incantation of the Profound Origin Breathing Technique. I had memorized it perfectly before: "Inhale as if the valley embraces clouds, exhale like a stream returning to the sea." I thought I just had to follow the instructions, but I was wrong. These words weren't action commands; they were descriptions of a state. They described how the spiritual energy should be, not that I had to force it into that form.

I opened my mouth to call out to the System, but my voice was still hoarse. I cleared my throat before speaking, "Please re-analyze the first three levels of the basic chapter of the Profound Origin Breathing Technique."

My sea of consciousness was silent for a few seconds. I thought it wouldn't respond, as feedback had only come after answering questions before. But just as I was about to give up, a block of text slowly appeared.

There was no reward notification, nor any quest pop-up. Only a clean annotation:

"The first level is not about rapid success, but about 'awakening.' Awaken to the beginning of spiritual energy, the blockages and flow of the meridians, and the restlessness or tranquility of the heart."

I was stunned. These words were carved into my mind like knives. I had been doing it all wrong. I thought cultivation was about creating something from nothing, but it was actually about moving from ignorance to knowledge. It wasn't about refining spiritual power first and then feeling it, but about learning to feel first, and then guiding it.

I continued reading. The System pushed more content, discussing the rhythm and nodes of each cycle, where to pause, where to use intent rather than force, and even how different times of day affected the perception of spiritual energy.

This wasn't a reward for answering questions, nor was it a remedy after a punishment. This was the first time it had proactively given me something, not because I had answered correctly, but because the way I asked had changed.

I opened my eyes and took out the jade slip and engraving stylus from my sleeve. My hands were still trembling slightly, making my writing unsteady, but I wrote slowly, stroke by stroke. After writing each sentence, I would try to circulate a trace of spiritual power within my body to verify it. It wasn't a full circulation, just a localized test.

When I reached "awakening to the beginning of spiritual energy," I paused for a long time. I realized I had no idea how "energy" actually began. I had always thought it was drawn in by breathing, or produced by the Dantian itself. But now, exploring it with the new understanding, I discovered that energy actually seeped in from the outside, like water vapor condensing into dew, gathering bit by bit at the bottom of the Dantian.

I revised my previous notes, adding a small line beside them: Energy is not self-generated, but drawn from the outside, gathered, and condensed into threads.

After writing this sentence, my shoulders suddenly felt lighter. It wasn't a physical lightness, but a burden lifted from my heart. I knew I had been wrong, and I knew how to correct it. This feeling was more grounding than breaking through a realm.

I put down the jade slip and stood up. The room was too stuffy; I wanted to go for a walk.

I pushed open the wooden door, and the night breeze hit my face. There were many stars in the sky, a silver band stretching across the heavens. I couldn't read the star charts, nor did I know which star corresponded to which powerful being, but I knew they were always there. Unchanging for millennia, neither competing nor snatching.

I stood at the doorway, gazing at the distant mountain silhouettes. This valley wasn't large, and I hadn't been here long. Building a house, cultivating, making mistakes, getting injured... it felt like a lot had happened, but it had only been a few days.

I remembered the day I first landed, clutching a spirit stone in my hand, unable to even chop down a tree. Back then, I just wanted to survive. Now I had a cultivation technique and resources, yet I had driven myself to a dead end.

I smiled. I smiled at my own haste.

The Primordial Wilderness was vast, and the great tribulation hadn't even begun. Why should I care about progress in these few days? Others took millennia to get started; how could I expect to ascend in one step in such a short time?

I turned back into the room, washed my hands again, and lit a small stick of incense. As the smoke rose, I took out the jade slip and wrote three rules on the blank space at the beginning:

First, do not covet speed. Second, do not act rashly. Third, always reflect.

After writing, I blew on the ink and set the jade slip aside. Then I sat back in my original position, adjusted my posture, placed my palms on my knees, closed my eyes, and calmed my mind.

This time, I didn't think about completing a certain number of cycles. I only intended to follow the most basic route, starting from the Dantian, ascending along the Ren Meridian, passing through Zhongji, Guanyuan, Tanzhong, then turning to the Du Meridian, passing through Mingmen, Dazhui, Yuzhen, and finally reaching Baihui, then reversing the Du Meridian back to the Ren Meridian, returning to the Dantian.

I paced myself at half a breath per inch. With every inch I advanced, I paused to feel. Was there any blockage? Any restlessness? Was my heart calm?

When the spiritual power completed its first full cycle, I was already sweating. Not from exhaustion, but from prolonged concentration. But this energy was stable, not floating on the surface like before, but adhering firmly to the meridians.

I opened my eyes, my breathing steady. The incense in the room hadn't finished burning, and the smoke rose straight. The vine on the roof was still swaying, but the knot had stopped loosening.

I reached out and touched the spirit stone in my chest. It was still cold, but my heart had warmed.

I knew how to proceed now.

I no longer pursued speed, nor did I fear slowness. I would tread each step firmly and clarify each breath.

I picked up the engraving stylus, ready to add today's insights to the jade slip. As the tip touched the jade surface, my sea of consciousness suddenly vibrated gently.

A new prompt appeared.

It wasn't a red alert, nor a quiz interface.

It was just one sentence:

"Detected correction in host's cultivation concept, initiating phased assistance mode."