Daybreak had just come when I put away the jade slip and tucked it into my sleeve pouch. That useless spirit stone was still pressed against my chest, its cold touch clinging to my skin. I did not look at it again. I only reached out, turned the incense burner in the corner upside down, and extinguished the remaining ashes.
The wooden door creaked as I pushed it open, and the morning wind blew into my face. I looked back at the small hut. Several unused stone slabs were piled in the corner, and a section of vines hung from the roof, still unrepaired from yesterday. I did not plan to return.
Following the feeling I had gotten while stargazing last night, I headed toward the western side of the valley. The earth beneath my feet was soft and damp, making no sound when stepped on. Before I had gone a hundred paces, the air changed. It no longer felt dry in my lungs. Instead, it carried a trace of moisture, like the coolness of freshly drawn well water.
The system's voice sounded softly. "Three hundred paces ahead, the earth veins converge. Spiritual energy concentration has increased threefold."
I stopped and did not rush forward. Last time, I had made a mistake because I had wanted to move too quickly. This time, I needed to steady myself first. I found a flat stone and sat down, closing my eyes and focusing only on breathing.
At first, my mind was a mess. I thought of the three rules I had written last night, then remembered the tearing pain when I had forced my way through Yuzhen Pass. I forcefully pressed those thoughts down and fixed my attention on the breath moving in and out through my nose. Exhale, inhale. Slower. Slower still.
Gradually, the noise in my ears faded. In the distance, water dripped one drop at a time, falling into rhythm with my heartbeat. My eyelids no longer felt tight. I opened my eyes. The mist was still there, but it no longer blocked my way as it had before. I could make out the shadows of trees several yards ahead, faint light filtering through their branches and leaves.
I continued forward. The ground began to slope. The incline was not steep, but every step felt as though I were treading on some invisible boundary. The farther down I went, the heavier the air became, yet my body felt lighter. My Daoist robe clung to me. I was not sweating, but there was a trace of dampness on my back.
After walking a while longer, the view suddenly opened up. A shallow basin lay before me, surrounded by low hills. A narrow stream emerged from a crack between rocks at its center, winding around several bluish-green boulders before flowing away without a sound. A layer of pale green moss carpeted the ground, soft beneath my feet without sinking in.
I chose a large rock directly facing the stream's mouth and sat down. Its surface was smooth, neither too high nor too low, allowing my legs to cross naturally. I placed my hands on my knees, palms up, fingers slightly curled.
I closed my eyes and regulated my breathing. My dantian was completely empty; I could not grasp even the faintest current of energy. That was not a bad thing. I knew I could not forcefully draw it in now. I had to wait.
I relaxed my shoulders and let my breathing grow shallow. I was not trying to inhale spiritual energy. Instead, I made myself into a piece of cloth absorbing water, quietly spread open. Time passed little by little, and sweat began to bead on my forehead. It was not from heat, but from focusing for too long.
Suddenly, the fingertips of my right hand twitched. It was not a muscle spasm, but an external sensation. An extremely thin stream of energy slipped in through the gaps between my fingers and crept upward along my meridians. It was slow, but steady.
I did not move, nor did I chase after it. I simply watched it travel. It passed Hand Three Miles, reached Quchi, then Shoulder Well, never stopping along the way. By the time it circled around to my back and approached Mingmen Acupoint, another current surged up from the soles of my feet and met it at the tailbone.
When the two currents met, my dantian suddenly contracted. It was like an echo abruptly rising from the bottom of a well. Then a point of golden light lit up in my abdomen. It was not a color, but a feeling—warm, steady, born from within me.
I remained still. I neither let it run too quickly nor held it back. I let it turn on its own. Starting from the dantian, it rose along the Conception Vessel. Tanzhong Acupoint felt slightly blocked, so I paused and lightly touched it with my intent. Not pushing, not pulling. Just touching.
That clump of purple dispersed. The current continued upward, passing Tiantu Acupoint, Lianquan Acupoint, and Chengjiang Acupoint. Then it turned onto the Governing Vessel, beginning at Yinjiao Acupoint and moving all the way back. Dazhui Acupoint felt a little cold, so I slowed it down and let it remain there longer. Once the warmth returned, I continued.
When it reached Yuzhen Pass, my heartbeat quickened by half a beat. This was where it had exploded last time. I took a deep breath and told myself, Not this time. Don't force it.
Sure enough, the current met resistance as it approached the pass. I could feel it striking against the obstruction, like raindrops pattering against roof tiles. But I did not add any force. I merely held my ground, like someone standing at a doorway, waiting for a guest to push the door open on their own.
After three breaths, that barrier loosened. The current did not rush through. It seeped through, bit by bit, strand by strand, like mist slipping into a forest. Once it passed Yuzhen Pass, the entire Governing Vessel opened at once. Baihui Acupoint swelled faintly, as if sunlight were shining upon the crown of my head.
At last, it flowed counter to the Governing Vessel and returned along the Conception Vessel, settling back in my dantian. One full circulation was complete, and I was drenched from head to toe. My clothes clung to my body, and my hair stuck to my forehead. Yet I was not tired. Instead, I felt as though a burden had been lifted.
I opened my eyes. The sky had not changed, but everything around me had. The sound of the stream was clearer, and I could even hear dewdrops rolling off the moss. I looked down at my hands. A faint glow haloed my fingertips. It was not spiritual energy leaking out, but a sign that my qi and blood were flowing freely.
The system displayed a line of text. "Host's resonance with the environment has increased. Cultivation efficiency +40%."
I did not respond. It was not that I was unhappy. I simply did not want to interrupt this state. That single circulation just now had felt more substantial than my previous ten combined. I knew why. Before, I had been cultivating. Now, the cultivation was carrying me.
I closed my eyes again, preparing to try once more. This time, I wanted to see if I could rely entirely on my body's instincts without guiding it with my intent.
The moment I settled my mind, my ear twitched. A faint sound came from the woods to my left, like leaves stirring in the wind. But today, the wind was blowing from the right.
I did not open my eyes. Nor did I stir my spiritual energy. I merely sent a trace of attention in that direction. The sound did not come again. The stream continued to flow, and the birds still chirped as normal.
Maybe it was only an illusion. Maybe an animal had passed by.
I withdrew my thoughts and refocused on my dantian. That point of golden light was still there, a little brighter than before. I let it slowly rise and follow the old path.
Just as the current passed Zhongji Acupoint, the sound came again from the left. This time, it was the crisp snap of a branch breaking. It was close, no more than twenty paces away.
I still did not move. My breathing remained steady, and the qi inside me continued circulating. If it truly was danger, panicking now would not help. If it was a misunderstanding, startling it would only make things worse.
When the current reached Guanyuan Acupoint, the sound came a third time. This time, it was the scrape of something stepping on dead leaves, slow and rhythmic, moving closer.
At last, I withdrew the final trace of my intent. The qi within me automatically retreated to my dantian and sank to its depths. I slowly lowered both hands, pressing my palms against the stone.
My head remained lowered and my eyes closed, but every pore on my body seemed to open. I could feel the wind direction changing, carrying a faint smell of blood mixed with the scent of grass and trees.
That thing was still fifteen paces away.
Ten paces.
Five paces.
It stopped.
I heard its breathing, heavy and low, coming from directly ahead.
I did not raise my head. Nor did I dare circulate my qi. I remained seated on the stone in a meditative posture, like a motionless statue.
Its shadow fell across the tips of my shoes.
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