Late at night.
Su Liumeng looked at the young girl sleeping soundly, quietly slipped out of bed, and made her way alone into the living room.
Her movements were already very quiet, but Chunqiao, who often kept watch at night, still heard her.
“Young Miss, it’s you.”
“I thought it was Miss, wondering if she got up in the night because something happened.”
“It’s nothing to do with you, go back to sleep.”
Su Liumeng glanced at the sheepskin book on the table—it was the one Sixinian had given her earlier in the day.
She gently tapped her fingertip on the table. “Su Luo, now that you’ve brought this book out, what are you really planning?”
Turning the illusory into the real, especially when one can still cultivate normally, is already a remarkable technique.
The creator of this book was none other than Su Luo’s direct ancestor.
July 3rd.
Xiao Zhizhi has been getting more and more intelligent lately, and loves listening to me read her fairy tales the most.
I haven’t told her any other stories.
Those traditional tales—she doesn’t like them, turns her head away in resistance as soon as I start, and later, I simply tell her the ones I’ve already modified, borrowing flowers to offer to Buddha.
Who knows what innate nature this little girl really has; when she listens to my altered stories, she actually seems quite absorbed.
“From now on, if there’s something you don’t like, you can’t just shake your head to say no, you have to say ‘not allowed’ yourself.”
As I’m teaching my daughter, it suddenly strikes me: she still can’t call me ‘Mama’ yet—how could she say anything else? This should be something I teach after she speaks for the first time, right?
Asking for this now is a bit too much.
“Forget it, you just keep shaking and nodding for now.” I pinch my daughter’s chubby cheeks, watching her grow taller day by day, and the sense of accomplishment in my heart only grows stronger.
This is my daughter.
So adorable.
“Say Mama.” Zhizhi reaches out her soft little hand, managing to grab only one of my fingers, yet the ripple it sends through my heart is like a stone cast in a lake.
“Giggle.”
“You just laugh. Why is getting you to say ‘Mama’ harder than climbing to the heavens?”
After feeding my daughter myself and coaxing her to sleep, I get on the bed and take a meditative posture. “Su Liumeng, I’m going to cultivate. Don’t disturb me if there’s nothing urgent.”
It’s most taboo to be interrupted by others during cultivation.
In severe cases, one might even risk falling into deviation.
Here, the ‘devil’ doesn’t mean a real demon, but rather one’s qi and blood rushing to the head, leaving the mind in chaos, like one of those mindless village guardians.
Hearing that I was about to undertake intense cultivation again, Su Liumeng specially kept watch at the door, looking at the young girl on the bed, ready and waiting. Her heart inexplicably tightened.
Although she didn’t know what plan Sixinian had in mind, nor what Sixinian intended with this cultivation session—perhaps attempting to break through an entire stage at once—just hearing Sixinian’s tone, she felt this wasn’t just an ordinary daily practice.
What is Baby planning to do?
Su Liumeng stared at the beautiful figure on the bed, her gaze gradually becoming unfocused, almost enchanted by the sight.
So-called ‘Passage Realm’ cultivation requires breaking through several acupoints leading to the sea of consciousness, allowing vast amounts of energy to be drawn into the sea of consciousness, and from then on, the sea of consciousness and dantian cultivate in tandem.
The Passage Realm is the third step of all realms, the first true transcendental transformation for a cultivator—a foundation for all further realms, holding a pivotal position.
If meridians are the channels for energy flow, then acupoints are the powerful absorption devices and transfer stations ensuring smooth operation.
The human body is truly wondrous; it looks simple, but in reality, it is as profound and vast as the universe. Those acupoints yet to be activated are like stars unlit in the sky, hidden behind thick clouds.
I take a deep breath, completely clearing my mind and focusing fully on the accumulation of yin energy in my meridians.
As my spiritual awareness successfully locks onto a certain point, the energy masses that have accumulated in various meridians and become old shackles begin to move toward the dantian.
This is an arduous process. The walls of the meridians are not thick, but as so much energy moves at once, the sensation is as if countless small blades are cutting me, the intense pain making me tremble uncontrollably. Externally, sweat pours from my entire body.
Su Liumeng grew anxious; not knowing what Xiaoyan was cultivating, and not daring to interrupt, she could only sense her aura from the side, checking for instability to determine if the current state was safe.
Just how much stubborn yin energy was there? So much that much of it had condensed into liquid, a completely different substance from the energy particles floating in the air.
So much yin energy moving through the meridians brought unimaginable pain.
Normally, just a bit of this yin energy would cause me trouble in cultivation—let alone now.
Suddenly, inspiration struck me, and I secretly ridiculed myself for being a bit foolish.
People always say pregnancy makes you dumb for three years—am I really getting that way?
Why must I move all the yin energy at once?
Why not move the yin energy in the meridians nearest the dantian first, settling them into position one step at a time?
Gradual absorption is much easier than trying to devour everything in one gulp.
Having found a better way, I started shifting the yin energy. Similar to the function of acupoints, the dantian is a massive energy transfer station, but it also serves as storage. When energy is needed in combat, it is dispatched from this super station to the outside world.
As large amounts of energy poured into the dantian, its capacity continued to expand, and the number of small liquid particles inside increased.
Some of the liquid particles stayed in the dantian to expand its current capacity for my realm; the rest moved along a passage from the dantian, converging on the acupoints required for breaking into the Passage Realm—a line of dim acupoints in a straight row, with the endpoint at the sea of consciousness.
Pa!
With a surge of energy, the first acupoint was opened.
This process was easier than I’d imagined, like finishing something and feeling refreshed—a wave of euphoria from releasing potential made me almost moan instinctively, but thinking of my daughter sleeping beside me, I forcibly suppressed the joy welling up from deep within.
With the first acupoint open, the second was tougher, but with the experience of the first and nearly inexhaustible energy at this realm, it took little effort to break through the second dim acupoint in a hidden meridian.
No wonder some people are obsessed with cultivation.
The thrill that comes with each breakthrough is truly addictive.
I cleared my mind of distractions and began assaulting the remaining stages.
There are seven acupoints in total for the Passage Realm, akin to the Big Dipper in the sky. The moment all seven are lit, there’s an indescribable beauty—shocking and grand.
I didn’t pause to feel out my state, but immediately steadied my spirit and began to charge at the third and fourth realm barriers.
The fourth realm is the Primordial Spirit Realm.
Once one reaches this stage, their own Primordial Spirit can be born—never again will the flesh completely constrain the self.
This is a true step toward great freedom.
Crack–
Once I reached the Primordial Spirit Realm, the final surge of energy took me yet another stride forward before dissipating.
The corners of my mouth curled upward.
Success.
Letting the yin energy linger in the meridians, I hadn’t done badly at all.
So this is the power of the Primordial Spirit Realm?
I gazed at my fingertips, a flash of light flickering in my eyes.
I didn’t immediately end my cultivation, but recalled in my mind a dual cultivation technique I’d read about.
Dual cultivation doesn’t necessarily require two people cultivating together.
Those who practice demonic dual cultivation, obsessed with plundering yin to supplement yang or yang to supplement yin, are just like this.
Proper dual cultivation is when both people cultivate together and grow in tandem.
This time, the technique I planned to use wasn’t the latter—only the former’s effect was more domineering, unlike the latter’s slow, simmering approach, and could reach my goal in one stroke.
This type of technique, when run in reverse, allows one to complete the process of being harvested.