Darkness flooded my vision, and my ears filled with static. My body convulsed once on the ground, my leg striking a pile of stones. The sound of pebbles rolling away seemed distant, as if it came through water. I opened my mouth, but blood pooled at my throat, impossible to swallow or spit out.
My fingers would not move, yet I could still feel the chill of the ground. My daoist robe clung to my back, soaked through—I did not know whether with sweat or blood. It felt as though a hole had opened at the Baihui acupoint atop my head. Spiritual energy sprayed out of it, then chaotically burrowed back in. My meridians burned, not with heat, but with the sensation of every tendon being stretched taut and ground back and forth.
I wanted to call the system, but no sound came from my throat. Through the haze, I wondered whether it would simply ignore me. After all, it had never spoken before or warned me of anything. Maybe it was only responsible for giving questions and rewards. If something went wrong, it would just watch to see whether I lived or died.
Just as my consciousness was about to break, a line of text suddenly lit up in my sea of consciousness.
It was red, painfully glaring.
"Error: Forcing a breakthrough at Yuzhen Pass. Correct path: Guide slowly for three breaths, focus intent on the Niwan Palace, reverse the Governor Vessel into the Conception Vessel."
Those words hung there, neither moving nor flickering. They were unlike the prompts that appeared when I answered questions. This time, they had been forcibly squeezed in, carrying an oppressive force.
I stared at that line. My eyes hurt, but I did not dare close them. I knew this was my last chance.
The tip of my tongue was still torn from that bite. The taste of blood filled my mouth, but my mind became a little clearer. With that clarity, I tried to suppress the turbulent currents inside me—not by pushing them or blocking them, but by trying to "feel" the spiritual energy rampaging through my body.
It was too frantic. It exploded upward from my dantian, rebounded when it struck Yuzhen Pass, then ran wild in every direction. My arms, calves, chest—it went everywhere. With every collision, I felt as if my bones were about to crack.
But now I knew where I had gone wrong.
It was not that I lacked strength. I had been too desperate to break through. The Profound Origin Breathing Technique spoke of "connecting through," and I had assumed that meant forcing my way up and charging through. But that was not it. It meant letting the qi pass on its own, like water reaching an edge and naturally flowing downward.
I gave up trying to control it and instead focused on the very center of the top of my head. That was the Niwan Palace. The system had mentioned it once while explaining the meridian diagram.
I began to count.
One breath, two breaths, three breaths.
I ignored the twitching in my legs and the crushing pressure in my chest. I simply guarded that spot and waited for the violent spiritual energy to surge up on its own.
When the first wave struck, I nearly lost focus anyway. It was too fierce, like surf smashing into shore and crashing straight into my head. I clenched my teeth and threw my head back. Even when the back of my skull struck the ground, I did not loosen up.
But I did not let it take any other path.
I guided it toward the Niwan Palace, not by forcibly dragging it, but by gently leading it. Like herding sheep into a pen—you could not chase them. You had to stand at the gate and wait.
The second wave came more slowly. This time, I could feel its direction change. It no longer crashed around wildly, but slid upward along a curve. When it reached the top, it paused.
Now.
I silently recited, "Reverse the Governor Vessel into the Conception Vessel," and gently sent the qi downward. Instead of continuing to charge through the Governor Vessel, I made it turn into the Conception Vessel and slowly slide back to my dantian along the front of my body.
The process was slow. Slower than the first time I had circulated the technique. I had to focus with every inch it moved, terrified that it would explode again.
But it really was moving.
Warm. Steady. No longer tearing me apart.
When that current completed a full circuit, I heard myself gasp. It was a long breath squeezed out from the depths of my lungs, trembling as it escaped.
I tried again.
This time, it went more smoothly. My meridians still hurt, but the feeling that they were about to split apart was gone. After the spiritual energy returned to my dantian, it did not immediately become restless again. Instead, it quietly circled once, as if exhausted.
Bracing myself with my arms, I tried to sit up. My palm pressed against the ground, my fingertips touching a piece of rubble. I used it for leverage and lifted myself up. My shoulders ached terribly, but I did not stop. Little by little, I shifted over until I could lean against the wall.
A pile of stones was behind me, cold and hard. Yet when I leaned against it, I felt strangely reassured. At least I could still feel that I was in this room. At least I was not dead.
My gaze swept across the floor.
That spirit stone lay in its socket, its surface dim and devoid of light. Several small fragments lay beside it, having fallen from the stone pile. One of them pressed against the edge of the spirit stone, as though it had bumped into it by accident.
I lowered my head and looked at my hands.
My fingertips had turned black, as if they had been scorched by fire. They hurt at the slightest touch. These were burns from leaking spiritual energy. The rest of me was no better. The sleeves of my daoist robe were torn, and there was blood on my right shoulder. I did not know whether it came from scraped skin or an internal injury.
I did not care about any of that.
Right now, I only wanted to remember those three steps.
Guide slowly, focus intent, return to the Conception Vessel.
No charging, no forcing, no brute strength. Wait, receive, and guide it back.
I closed my eyes and adjusted my breathing again. This time, I did not dare circulate the entire technique. I only gently moved a thread of spiritual energy around my dantian to test the response.
It moved, obediently circling halfway before stopping. It did not flare up or recoil.
I opened my eyes and looked at the roof.
The vines still hung there, several dangling from the beams. A faint breeze blew in through the southern opening, making them sway. Their shadows fell across the wall, no longer twisting or coiling.
I raised my hand and said in my heart, [System].
There was no reply.
But I could feel that it was still there.
Just like before, it hovered at the edge of my consciousness. It neither spoke nor left.
After a pause, I said softly, "Thank you."
After saying that, I realized that my heartbeat had steadied and my breathing had deepened. I had not recovered all at once. It was returning bit by bit.
I leaned against the wall and did not move.
It was probably almost dark outside. The room grew dimmer, but I could still see clearly. The door curtain had not been lifted. The dead leaf by the threshold was still there, only turned over to reveal the patterns on its underside.
As I watched it, I suddenly remembered the day I had first arrived.
After crossing the boundary line, I had only a single spirit stone in my hand. I knew nothing—not even how to chop wood. Back then, I had stood in this clearing, staring blankly at the stream and wondering whether I could survive for three days.
Now, I was alive.
And I knew that mistakes could be corrected.
I raised my hand and looked at my blackened fingertips. The wounds would not heal immediately, but as long as I was alive, I could keep cultivating.
I was no longer in a hurry.
I closed my eyes again and went through the basic mnemonic of the Profound Origin Breathing Technique from the beginning. I considered every word slowly, neither lingering nor skipping ahead. I wanted to understand what every sentence meant instead of acting on instinct.
The spiritual energy within me was weak, nearly exhausted. But I did not take any pills, nor did I touch the ruined spirit stone. I wanted to recover a little on my own first.
When the seventh circulation ended, I felt something stir in my dantian.
It was not a sudden surge. A thread of new qi emerged. It was thin, but clear. It traveled once around the Conception Vessel, returned to where it began, and quietly sank down.
I opened my eyes.
I could curl my fingers into a fist again, and my legs could move. Though I was still unsteady on my feet, at least I would not collapse again.
I lowered my head and looked at the ground, at that spirit stone that had lost its luster.
Then I reached out and took it from its socket.
The moment it touched my palm, I felt a slight numbness, like an electric current shooting through me. I frowned but did not let go.
It was useless now, but I did not want to throw it away.
It was the first thing I had used to sense spiritual energy, and the starting point of this cultivation site. It had accompanied me from nothing to something. Even though it was ruined now, I still wanted to keep it.
I tucked it into my robes, securing it against my chest.
The wind outside grew stronger.
The animal hide on the roof flapped once, then again. I looked up and noticed that one vine had come loose. The knot hanging from the crossbeam was slightly crooked.
I stared at that knot for a while.
Then, supporting myself against the wall, I slowly stood up.
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