Young Jiang Yang

Spirit Marsh Domain, Zheng Kingdom.

Rain Xiang Mountain was both a place and the name of a sect, one of the towering powers within the Zheng Kingdom. It counted thousands of disciples, and generation after generation had produced accomplished cultivators. Its foundations ran deep, its history stretching back a thousand years.

The sect occupied a vast expanse of rugged terrain and overlapping mountains, with hundreds of Spirit Veins, large and small, winding through its lands. Numerous Lineages, market towns, and rogue cultivators surrounded and supported it. They rose and fell, seas became mulberry fields, yet Rain Xiang Mountain alone had stood to this day.

A fine, unbroken rain fell over Falling Rain Peak.

The rain slanted down from the northwest like a curtain of pearls, nourishing the entire peak into lush greenery.

Houses and tiled cottages dotted the distant slopes, while Cave Abodes had been carved into the mountain walls, scattered like stars. Cultivators arrived from time to time, disciples came and went, and servants hurried about.

At the foot of the mountain, a flight of a hundred or so steps led up to a blue-brick cottage with a tiled roof. Its furnishings were simple: just a table, a chair, a bed, and a Meditation Cushion.

A boy sat upright on the Meditation Cushion, his expression solemn. His eyebrows were fine and straight, his face fair and handsome, and his figure somewhat slender. He did not look very old.

Jiang Yang kept his eyes tightly closed, his expression solemn. Water vapor wreathed him, yet, miraculously, not a trace of moisture touched him. As his hands shifted through seals, his chest rose and fell with slow, measured breaths, refining the spiritual energy of heaven and earth around him.

A faint, clear radiance surrounded his body. Jiang Yang concentrated on circulating the Magic Power through his hundred meridians, repeating the cycle over and over, keeping his mind steady and focused on a single point.

An incense stick's worth of time later, the newly formed vapor swirled around Jiang Yang's mouth and nose. Spiritual light flowed into his body through his nostrils, the vapor dispersed, and he slowly brought his cultivation to a close.

"Qi Refining—I did it!"

After a long period of cultivation, he had finally entered the Qi Refining stage. The joy of his breakthrough brought a smile to Jiang Yang's youthful face.

"The consumption method really is wondrous. That was much faster than I expected."

No wonder Jiang Yang was delighted. The Dew Essence Consumption Method had proved remarkably effective. He really had made the right choice.

Jiang Yang had always been quick-witted and hardworking in the Lower Court. An instructor there had taken a liking to him and specifically granted him this method, which differed from the Spirit Absorption Circulation Method practiced by the other disciples.

Though its power was unremarkable, it had a unique advantage: the excess Spirit Vigor accumulated during breathing exercises lingered around the cultivator instead of dispersing. Whenever a cultivation session ended, the cultivator could absorb once more the Spirit Vigor that had just been purified through breathing but had escaped absorption, conserving Dao Merit and increasing cultivation speed.

Thus, even though this technique was not particularly outstanding in combat, Jiang Yang had drawn on the wisdom of his previous life to weigh his options and chosen it without hesitation.

Indeed, Jiang Yang was not originally from this world. A chance turn of fate had brought him here, reborn into a world of cultivators. As luck would have it, he possessed a Spirit Root. At twelve, he had been selected for the sect's Lower Court and sent to Falling Rain Peak, where dedicated instructors taught him literacy and the locations of acupuncture points, along with basic knowledge of the cultivation world. Only when his meridians had matured had he been given a cultivation method.

Jiang Yang's Spirit Root aptitude was far from ideal, rated lower-middle grade. As the person who had tested his Spirit Root put it, "Average talent. With a fortunate opportunity, Qi Refining will come easily, and foundation establishment will be within reach. As for the Violet Palace, that would be wishful thinking."

That single assessment divided people into distinct ranks. Whether emperors and ministers, wealthy magnates, or penniless beggar children, all were treated alike.

Spirit Roots were formed before birth. The "spirit" referred to the [Spirit Aperture], while the "root" referred to the [root bone]. Only someone possessing both could be said to have a Spirit Root.

A Spirit Root was the foundation of cultivation. As the Hundred Meridians Circulation Manual stated, "An aperture without bone ends as a mound of yellow earth; bone without an aperture cannot ascend the Great Dao."

Thus, the Spirit Aperture was the foundation through which cultivators absorbed spiritual essence and gathered qi. Those without one could not even sense Spirit Vigor, let alone ascend the path of the Great Dao.

Yet those with a Spirit Aperture but no root bone fared little better. Whenever the Spirit Vigor they had painstakingly gathered through breathing entered their Qi Sea, it was like trying to scoop the moon from the water—not even one part in a hundred remained. In mere moments, it would scatter completely. A hundred years lived in this world would still end in nothing but dust.

Jiang Yang was much more fortunate. He possessed a middle-grade Spirit Aperture and a low-grade root bone. Though his aptitude had been judged lower-middle grade, he had at least crossed the threshold of cultivation. That was why he had been admitted to the Lower Court and received the sect's training.

Ever since he had begun cultivating, Jiang Yang had worked diligently, never slacking off. Unlike the ignorant children of his cohort, who muddled through their days, he had dreamed in his previous life of cultivation's mysteries, countless spells, and myriad Divine Powers. But dreams had eventually been ground down and defeated by reality, and he had never had a chance to encounter such things.

Now cultivation lay within reach. Jiang Yang felt that if he failed to seize this opportunity, he would be letting down the new life he had been given. Though he had cultivated for only a short time and could not yet soar through the heavens or burrow through the earth with a gesture, everything he had seen and heard since learning of the cultivation world had taught him that, at a sufficiently high realm, overturning mountains and seas was nothing extraordinary. He therefore treasured this opportunity all the more, never allowing himself a moment of slackness.

After two and a half years of such cultivation, with his sixteenth birthday approaching, Jiang Yang finally entered the Qi Refining stage. According to sect rules, anyone who reached Qi Refining before sixteen could be promoted to a formal disciple, becoming worthy of further training. If he could take a master, he would truly become a direct disciple of the inner sect.

Having slowly brought his cultivation to a close, Jiang Yang did not immediately rise. Instead, he closed his eyes again, drawing his Spirit Sense inward and extending it into the depths of his Sea of Consciousness.

His chaotic Sea of Consciousness was utterly silent. A clear, hazy glow shone at its center, where a slender wooden branch drifted up and down, its light brightening and dimming as though it were breathing.

This was Jiang Yang's secret. Ever since he had crossed into this world, the branch had remained hidden in his Sea of Consciousness.

At first, Jiang Yang had been ecstatic, believing this to be his own cheat. Yet no matter what he tried, the branch remained as unresponsive as dead wood. As time passed, he could only set it aside for the moment and leave its mysteries for later.

Only after he began cultivating did various guesses occur to Jiang Yang. Though he did not know what others' circumstances were like, the discreet questions he had asked over the past few years had taught him that the Sea of Consciousness was among the most vital parts of the human body. Even slight damage could cause a cultivator's cultivation to regress; severe damage could mean death on the spot.

His knowledge was shallow, but he had heard that even the spiritual artifacts and magical treasures of accomplished Violet Palace cultivators were generally stored in their Dantian's Qi Sea. He had never heard of a treasure that could enter the Sea of Consciousness.

Exposed to all manner of conspiracy theories in his previous life, Jiang Yang had never spoken of this object to anyone, nor had he dared let the Courtyard instructors examine his Sea of Consciousness. He had endured until he reached Qi Refining and developed his own Spirit Sense before finally investigating.

His newly born Spirit Sense was quite immature, like some newborn organ. Jiang Yang was not yet skilled at controlling it, and handling it felt awkward.

According to the Courtyard instructors, newly developed Spirit Sense could barely extend thirty feet beyond the body before running out of strength. Fortunately, he did not need to project it outward here. Within his own body, Jiang Yang could still control it.

His Spirit Sense slowly extended until it settled before the withered branch. The flickering radiance continued to swell and recede, unchanged by Jiang Yang's arrival.

Perhaps because he had waited so long, Jiang Yang actually felt a little nervous. But now that he had come this far, there was no reason to retreat.

If it is fortune, it is no calamity; if it is calamity, there is no escaping it, Jiang Yang silently recited. With utmost care, he split off a strand of thought and touched the withered branch.

Boom...

The instant he made contact, Jiang Yang's Sea of Consciousness thundered, and the world spun around him. Countless gold and silver runes whirled through his mind, rushing to burst outward, only to be held fast within this tiny space by some nameless force.

The characters fluttered too swiftly for him to make out even a fraction of them. Jiang Yang felt only a swelling pain and a buzzing in his Sea of Consciousness. His nose stung, and tears nearly spilled from his eyes. He could not even gather his awareness.

Unlike the earthshaking upheaval within, Jiang Yang's physical body remained utterly motionless, his eyes closed as though he were regulating his breathing. Nothing seemed amiss in the little blue-stone cottage with its tiled roof. Anyone who saw him could only have remarked on what a diligent young man he was.

The golden characters swam like tadpoles, while the silvery runes bore strokes like iron and hooks like silver. They darted and crashed about within Jiang Yang's mind, unable to form orderly lines. At last, they reluctantly settled down and slowly joined together in one place.

The withered branch reappeared, drifting in Jiang Yang's Sea of Consciousness. Radiance still wreathed it, and it remained unshakable.

After an unknown length of time, Jiang Yang's awareness returned. He opened his eyes, his body slumping sideways until he leaned against the bed, staring blankly at the roof tiles.

It was as though he had experienced a very long dream. His head ached with a swollen soreness, yet he could not recall the slightest detail of that dream.

A little while later, Jiang Yang shook his head and stood up. He carefully checked the door and windows. Only after finding everything unchanged and nothing amiss did he return with some peace of mind.

He knew his actions served little practical purpose, but at least his tangled thoughts had finally settled.

He made a show of sitting cross-legged again, suppressing the excitement in his eyes as he guarded against some imagined expert's prying gaze.

Though that brief contact between his Spirit Sense and the withered branch had left Jiang Yang's head aching, he had at least learned a few crucial things.

This withered branch was an incomplete [Dao Fruit], said to govern marriage bonds, command fortune and prosperity, determine heavenly lifespans, and comprehend cause and effect. It could seek benefit and avoid harm, link the red threads of fate, and perform all manner of wonders too marvelous for words.

For some unknown reason, however, it had been reduced to a ruined, withered branch, unable to display even one ten-thousandth of its wondrous powers.

Even so, a Dao Fruit was something impossibly lofty and precious beyond words, its intrinsic nature extraordinarily exalted and its standing immeasurably high. Jiang Yang even suspected that it was not an object of this world at all.

[Dao Fruit]...