Ye Qin had pored over the preparatory chapter of the Scripture of Sitting in Oblivion—
Although this mantra lacked the formidable offensive power of Yang Yicheng’s Tiger Fist or the bizarre lightness of Feng Xiao’s Cloud-Treading Vertical Leap, it had still greatly assisted him over the years. He was beginning to grasp the marvel of this esoteric technique. What took others two days of travel, he could accomplish in half a day because his stamina was so high and his recovery speed so swift that he was practically tireless. Less time spent traveling naturally meant more time for gathering herbs.
Ye Qin felt a slight regret that
He turned past the final page of the first half of the manual and then saw several characters written on the almost pristine pages of the latter half: The Incomplete Upper Scroll,
Previously, Ye Qin habitually ignored those words.
This was because inscribed on the manual was an evaluation penned by a seasoned expert from the Herb Gathering Hall, stating that only the preparatory chapter,
As for the subsequent Incomplete Upper Scroll,
Ye Qin had no idea that the person who wrote this evaluation was, in fact, the very first master and patriarch of the Medicine King Gang, the one who had led the gang to centuries of prosperity.
Ye Qin certainly didn't believe he was superior to that preceding master, so he never entertained the notion of touching those sections. Instead, he devoted himself entirely to cultivating
But now, he felt a sudden stir of desire.
The danger he encountered during this latest herb gathering trip had instilled in Ye Qin a restless, urgent need: to strengthen himself, to raise his capabilities as quickly as possible. Otherwise, who knew what day his little life might simply end.
Within the next year or two, it was impossible for him to amass enough gold coins to purchase a decent martial arts manual from the scripture repository, meaning he couldn't learn any other combat techniques.
Here was a ready-made esoteric formula right before him; to ignore cultivating it would feel like a terrible waste of nature’s gifts and choosing the long way around.
If he truly couldn't cultivate any effect from it, he wouldn't lose anything—at most, just a little spare time during his herb gathering. It wouldn't cost him a single copper coin. If, however, he could derive some effect, he would save a fortune in gold coins he’d otherwise spend on manuals, saving him years of hard labor. Refusing such a beneficial opportunity would be foolish.
Besides, someone in this world must have successfully cultivated it; otherwise, why would the ancients leave this manual behind?
With this thought, Ye Qin could no longer restrain himself.
He sat up straight, turned to the fresh pages at the back, and began reading.
“Scripture of Sitting in Oblivion: Sitting in Expectation of Nothingness: Meditative absorption, sitting in oblivion, untainted and unharmed. Heart Method for Levels One through Three: Constrain all outwardly projected aura, constrain all leaking expressions, emotions, and mental focus, converting every iota of bodily energy and blood into... Yuan Qi.”
Hmm, Yuan Qi? What was that?
Ye Qin rubbed his nose. He had only heard of internal arts and zhenqi; what was this Yuan Qi used for?
Forget it. He wouldn't overthink things he didn't understand; he would just practice according to the instructions. If others could cultivate it, why couldn't he?
Ye Qin settled into a cross-legged position, silently recited the mantra and esoteric method, guided his internal breath along the meridian charts provided, and began a new Great Circulation cultivation.
This method was indeed strange.
According to the cultivation method of
But under the new cultivation method of
After a full day of meditation, he could complete seven Great Circulations, yet not one of those seven circulations managed to enhance his internal arts even a tiny bit.
Ye Qin finally understood why that senior expert had advised against practicing it; there was a reason. This chapter’s cultivation method did not enhance internal zhenqi at all; instead, the generated aura simply disappeared somewhere during meditation.
For several days, he spent half the morning gathering herbs and the afternoon cultivating. The results were the same every time, leaving Ye Qin somewhat disheartened.
However, Ye Qin did not give up easily because of this difficulty. He was determined to figure out where that trace of faint aura produced during cultivation was going. The breath within his body couldn't simply vanish without cause; finding the reason might solve the problem.
One day, Ye Qin meditated as usual, leaning against a large boulder, running his Great Circulation.
His spiritual consciousness sank entirely into the process, following the trace of faint aura. As his consciousness passed the Niwan acupoint, a vortex of immense suction suddenly swept him away.
Instantly, his surroundings shifted dramatically.
Ye Qin suddenly found himself as a tiny, pale-white sphere of light, floating above a stone stele.
The entire stele was enveloped by a radiant halo nearly ten feet wide, protecting it. The stele itself rested upon a floating island made of grey rock. The void surrounding the island was filled with an endless, dense grey mist.
Ye Qin was startled.
Wasn't this the dream he’d had a few days ago? How had he entered it again?
Moreover, he wasn't dreaming now; he was cultivating the Scripture of Sitting in Oblivion.
A thought crossed his mind, and the sphere-body gently floated up.
However, he dared not drift outside the area covered by the halo. This Monument of his Natal Spirit, inscribed with his name, gave him a sense of security. If he left the halo, he couldn't be sure if he would remain safe.
He clearly remembered the incredibly perilous purple lightning bolts drifting in the void. Touching even a tiny sliver of them would likely be enough to snuff out the life of his little light sphere. He didn't dare wander out carelessly again and attract that purple lightning.
Ye Qin drifted within the halo, surveying the grey rock island.
The entire island remained unchanged, just as he had seen it a few days prior: barren, surrounded by deathly stillness, vast, and desolate.
The only difference was the appearance of faint white lines on the island, thinner than a strand of hair, about a few inches long. When these lines moved, they resembled the wriggling motion of the purple lightning, twisting slowly as they drifted across the island, injecting a slight trace of vitality into the dreary landscape. These few dozen white rays merely floated in the air above the island, seemingly constrained by some force that prevented them from leaving.
Ye Qin was astonished. What were these light lines? Could they be as terrifying as the purple lightning?