Where Was the Immortal Art?

Li Yan had no idea that his exchange with Dong Fuyi had taken place entirely through consciousness in a mental space. It sounded like a long conversation, but it had happened in an extremely short time. If Dong Fuyi had not spent so long using his magic power to keep Li Yan alive and heal his injuries, their exchange might have lasted only a dozen or so breaths. As Li Yan puzzled over everything that had happened, he suddenly felt the pressure on his body lift. That thing that had seemed like an eye had vanished from him.

Strategist Ji withdrew his Divine Sense, steadied himself, and smiled at Li Yan. "Disciple, you've completed the meridian-cleansing step of our sect's secret art. You've now officially entered the first layer of the Wood Yin Technique. I'm very pleased with how you did. Go back and rest for now. Come see me after lunch, and I'll teach you the mental formula for the first layer of the Wood Yin Technique." With that, he looked at Li Yan.

Li Yan sat on the ground, momentarily stunned. Then delight spread across his face. He pushed himself up with both hands, bowed to Strategist Ji, and said, "Thank you, teacher!" A trace of gratitude showed in his eyes. After another bow, he turned and walked briskly toward his stone hut.

Strategist Ji watched his retreating figure, then slowly looked away. A complicated expression flickered through his eyes. He stood there a little longer before turning back toward his own room.

Li Yan headed for his stone hut. He could clearly feel that force staring at his back again, prickling him like thorns. It disappeared only after a while. But he kept the same smile he had worn when he turned away and walked into his hut with a light step.

Once inside, he shut the door behind him, and his face darkened. He now knew that even the hut and its stone door could not block Strategist Ji's thread of Divine Sense. Still, being inside let him relax considerably, and he was certain that the Divine Sense had been withdrawn.

He looked down at his clothes, still soaked through, and recalled Strategist Ji's gentle voice and smile when he had first opened his eyes. His heart tightened, and he sneered inwardly. Do you really care about me that much? You're just afraid this "pig" of yours will die too soon and make it a poor bargain. Otherwise, why leave someone so weak lying on the ground in wet clothes for a quarter of an hour? It's almost late autumn. Hmph! Or were you afraid the fire poison inside me wouldn't go away, so you kept me chilled with cold water to hold it down? And all that talk about dispensing with tedious rites when I became your disciple, inventing the Wood Shadow Sect, then explaining the martial world's major sects and the divisions between cultivation realms in such detail—it was all to make me believe you were an aloof recluse teaching me a martial arts manual. You really are meticulous down to the finest hair. Even the little details of daily life had to look real. You did all of that so thoroughly that a man could die deceived without ever knowing it.

But even the most perfect deception had its flaws. Li Yan remembered the day he had become Strategist Ji's disciple. Right after Li Yan kowtowed, Strategist Ji had immediately wanted to teach him the "Breath-Guiding Art." It had startled him at the time. He might not be a martial artist, but even at a private school, a teacher first explained the rules to a new pupil. Surely a sect would do the same. Yet Strategist Ji had said nothing of sect prohibitions or rules. He had seemed impatient, as though he wanted Li Yan to learn the art at once. Looking back, Li Yan could see that for all Strategist Ji's schemes, he had still given himself away in small ways. Li Yan had simply realized it too late.

Then Li Yan noticed how thoroughly drenched he was, along with a nauseating smell. Looking more closely, he saw dark patches showing faintly through the wet fabric. He undid his clothes in confusion and froze. His entire body was coated in a greasy, black, sticky substance, as though he had been smeared with black oil. It was giving off the foul odor. He did not know that, after reaching the first layer of the Qi Condensation Stage, spiritual energy had expelled impurities and waste from his body through his pores. He thought they were toxins Dong Fuyi had drawn out of him.

The greasy impurities clung to his skin and made him unbearably uncomfortable. He needed to wash them off at once. He opened the door again and, with a faint smile on his face, went out to fetch some hot water. After a quick wash, he felt refreshed and light on his feet.

He changed into clean clothes, then sat cross-legged on the wooden bed with his eyes half closed, as though stabilizing the results of his recent cultivation.

Li Yan was not cultivating, of course. Once seated, he regulated his breathing and finally took stock of his body. His senses were several times sharper than before, and the "internal energy" within him felt far more abundant. He now knew it should be called spiritual energy. When he had practiced the "Breath-Guiding Art," he had already felt lighter, his ears keener and his eyes clearer. But never before had he perceived everything around him so vividly. His whole body felt wonderfully at ease, as though every drop of blood were racing and leaping for joy.

He could not yet look inside his body, so he had to rely on sensation. Then he remembered Dong Fuyi's warning: the fire poison was still inside him, and he must not continue cultivating the original "Wood Yin Technique." No, its real name was the "Black Night Curtain Green Technique." Practicing it would cause the fire poison to flare up again.

On impulse, he cautiously began circulating the mental formula of the Black Night Curtain Green Technique. His expression changed at once. He had only meant to confirm whether the old man had told the truth, with a little of a youngster's curiosity mixed in. He wanted to circulate the technique and send his spiritual energy through his body. But he had barely guided the energy toward the technique's route, before it could even travel through his meridians, when a monstrous heat in one corner of his Dantian stirred like a fierce beast catching the scent of blood. It seemed ready to burst out of his body. Frightened, he immediately released the technique.

Even so, it took a long time for the churning spiritual energy in Li Yan's Dantian to settle. The monstrous heat in that corner slowly receded until he could no longer sense it. Only then did he let out a long breath. So Dong Fuyi was telling the truth. The fire poison really is suppressed and entrenched there. That means the Gui Water True Scripture he said he left in my sea of consciousness must be real, too. But how do I enter it? For a novice with no one to teach him, it was utterly baffling.

Do I send spiritual energy to the Baihui point? No. That would mean using spiritual energy, and the only way I know to drive it is the Black Night Curtain Green Technique. Wouldn't that be asking for death? Should I meditate on it instead? Or is there some way to move my Divine Sense?

After a moment, he shook his head and laughed at himself. Dong Fuyi said he left the immortal art in my sea of consciousness, and he knows my condition. So it can't require spiritual energy to open. Why am I even wondering? He said the sea of consciousness is a mental space formed from spiritual power. I should be able to open it with my mind. It must be somewhere in my head—perhaps at one of the major points on the crown, forehead, or back of the head. There aren't that many places to try.

He stopped overthinking it, breathed slowly, and calmed his mind. First, he directed his thoughts toward the Baihui point at the center of his crown. Nothing happened. Next, he tried the Shenting point high on his forehead, but that produced no response either. Undiscouraged, he moved his attention down toward the space between his brows, intending to try the Yintang point. Before his thoughts reached it, however, his vision blurred. A dizzying rush of images flashed past his eyes. When they stopped, he froze. He was back in the space where he had met Dong Fuyi. Beneath his feet lay the same black lake; above him hung the same dark sky. There was still no wind or wave on the lake, only silence, as though he had been there all along. He floated above its surface just as he had before.

He understood at once. Dong Fuyi had told him this was his sea of consciousness. If not here, where else could it be? Surely he was not so different from everyone else that he had several seas of consciousness.

He looked around. Everything was gray and hazy, with not an object in sight. He could take in the whole place at a glance, let alone find any books or cultivation manuals.

Li Yan did not believe Dong Fuyi had gone to such trouble to save him only to lie to him afterward. He must simply have failed to find the scripture. Yet there really was nothing here. He thought of searching farther away, and the instant the thought arose, his body shot forward. Startled, he wobbled in midair before coming to a stop.

He had tried to move through this sea of consciousness before, but no matter what he did, he had been unable to take a step or shift his body. Now a single thought had sent him flying. Once the shock passed, he steadied himself and willed himself forward again. He floated ahead, then gradually accelerated. The discovery delighted him. Soon he was flying around as though at play, growing steadily more adept—darting left and right, rising and diving, enjoying himself immensely.

After quite some time, Li Yan stopped in midair and slowly calmed his excitement. Flying is wonderful. It's fast, and I don't have to follow winding paths on foot. What a shame this isn't real. If only I could truly fly. A reluctant longing rose in him. He loved this feeling, this sense of utter freedom.

From the beginning, people had yearned to soar through the sky as freely as birds. It was a human dream, but only a dream. Then Li Yan's eyes slowly brightened. Immortals could fly. Yes—once he became an immortal, flying would be nothing; he could ascend to the heavens or descend into the earth with ease. At that moment, he longed desperately to cultivate immortality. Had Dong Fuyi known, he would surely have pointed at Li Yan and cursed him. Earlier, Dong Fuyi had told him cultivation could grant a long life, yet Li Yan had wanted nothing more than to go home and remain an ordinary man. Now he wanted to cultivate simply because he had discovered how much fun flying was. Who could stay calm after hearing a reason like that?

Li Yan hovered in place a moment longer, then put those thoughts aside. What mattered most now was finding the book of immortal arts.

Half the time it took to drink a cup of tea later, he stopped. The space was not particularly vast, perhaps five or six hundred zhang across, and shaped like a hemisphere. Apart from the small lake at its center, everything was gray and hazy. The ground was blue-gray, and the sky hung dark overhead. At the edge, an invisible force kept him from approaching any closer, no matter what he tried. He had roamed the place, occasionally landing to knock here and search there, but as time passed, he found nothing.

Li Yan stood on the ground with an unobstructed view of the hazy distance. Resting his chin on one hand, he thought, I've searched every part of these several hundred zhang, including every place that looked suspicious. There's nothing. Where is that book of immortal arts?

A moment later, he slapped his forehead. Idiot! The small lake at the center was the one conspicuous feature in the entire space. Had he overlooked the most obvious place? He rose and flew toward it.

Soon he was above the lake. He looked down at its still, black surface. The water seemed as deep as an abyss, and beneath it lay only darkness. Do I have to go into the lake? If so, that old man has a strange sense of fun, making me play a treasure-hunting game. Helplessly, he descended toward the water. He hoped the lake was not too deep and that he would not have to hold his breath and swim through some twisting underwater cave.

But when he reached the surface, his expression stiffened. He could not enter the lake at all. The water was like a smooth black mirror. He could stand on it, but he could not sink even a fraction beneath it.

Li Yan felt thoroughly stumped. This was the only place that seemed likely to hold the scripture, yet he could not get into the lake. Was he supposed to do nothing but stare at its mirrorlike surface? Mirrorlike surface. A thought flashed through his mind, and he looked down at his feet again. Unfortunately, he saw nothing. The water was as black as the look on his face.

After standing there a little longer, Li Yan suddenly rose into the air. Hovering above the lake, he narrowed his eyes and focused his spiritual power on its surface. The instant it touched the water, golden light blazed across the black mirror, and dense lines of writing appeared. Li Yan was overjoyed, but before he could make out the words, his feeble spiritual power scattered. The golden characters vanished without a trace. Suspended in midair, he let out a long breath. At least he had found it.

He steadied himself, gathered his spiritual power again, and reached toward the lake below. Dense golden writing reappeared before his eyes. Near the far right edge of the lake gleamed four large characters: "Gui Water True Scripture." Immediately to their left, smaller characters stood in neat vertical lines. Knowing how weak his spiritual power was, he wasted no time and began reading intently. His life depended on this, as did the matter of flying that he cared so much about. He could not afford the slightest carelessness.