Chapter 17: I Don't Care What You Think; I Care What I Think

Chapter 17: I Don’t Want Your Opinion, I Want My Own

The figures of the master and his two disciples had vanished completely from sight.

Removing the wooden talisman, Luo Feng revealed a contented smile. For the price of nine silver dollars, he had freed himself from all manner of karmic entanglements and averted impending calamity.

Yes, he had profited; meanwhile, Luo Feng felt he had lost so much it made him want to cry.

Letting out a long, heavy breath, it was as if a shackle had been lifted from his heart. A rare sense of ease and relief flooded him. His true energy surged, and his steps grew light and lively as he traversed the forested mountains, a certain spring in his stride.

“Wait—something’s not right!” As he neared the mountain summit, Luo Feng’s wariness was suddenly piqued. His true energy was behaving strangely.

In the past, it flowed gently like a river, but today it rushed forth like the Yellow River pouring into the sea—wild and tumultuous.

He pondered for a moment, then speculated, “Could it be—the Innate Realm?!”

According to the breathing technique, after completing the twelve main meridians, one enters the stage of returning to innate energy.

Luo Feng had developed some insights into this realm. Once the twelve meridians were complete, one could use true energy to break through the Ren and Du channels and thus recover the innate primordial qi within, harnessing its power to refine the body and transcend human limitations.

Only on entering this realm could one truly be considered a cultivator.

But—where was the innate primordial qi?

He only sensed his true energy surging, an opportunity for breakthrough, but there was no sign of the innate primordial qi.

If he continued this way, the most he could achieve was an innate physique, extending his lifespan by sixty years, but he would remain barred from the Great Dao.

It would not be a perfect breakthrough, merely a false attainment of the innate realm.

“Where did I go wrong?” Luo Feng murmured.

He recalled the scenes from his cultivation journey.

His progress had been unnaturally swift—he sensed qi within three days, formed true energy in three months, and in just a year, had cleared all twelve main meridians, reaching the twelfth level of the breathing technique.

This was highly abnormal!

He was just an ordinary earthling, raised on foods full of additives, breathing air thick with smog. In any novel, he would certainly be labeled as a blocked and filthy vessel, a wasted body with congested meridians!

Cultivation should have been painstakingly slow—a year per level was the norm.

There must have been a problem somewhere.

Luo Feng considered, “The breathing technique is a product of the Lord God’s space, so its quality is assured; it shouldn’t have any fundamental flaws.”

He concluded, “So the error must be my own—the way I cultivated must be wrong.”

Cultivation was never a simple matter. It was often passed down from master to disciple, with interpretations varying widely.

For example, the terms ‘dragon’ and ‘tiger’: in the Complete Reality Sect, they meant slaying the red dragon and subduing the white tiger; in the Orthodox Unity Sect, they referred to the convergence of yin and yang, the dragon in the water and the tiger in the fire...

Without a master’s guidance, it was all too easy to take the wrong path.

Luo Feng had been able to progress smoothly with the breathing technique so far because the first twelve levels had illustrations, meridian diagrams, and explanatory notes.

But the transition from acquired to innate was most mysterious—something no text or picture could fully convey.

The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. He suppressed his restless true energy.

Finding a mossy green rock, Luo Feng sat down, regulated his breathing, entered a meditative state, and ran through all twelve levels of the breathing technique once again.

After this process, it was as if he had built a dam at the mouth of the Yellow River, finally restraining the impulse of his true energy to break through.

“That was close, so close,” he said.

“At last, I've stabilized my foundation!” Luo Feng breathed a sigh of relief.

As the saying goes: if you don’t understand, ask; if you’re ill, seek a doctor.

After returning, Luo Feng began searching for books everywhere. Whenever he had time, he visited Daoist temples and Buddhist monasteries, discussed philosophy, meditated, and even questioned the old Confucians at the academies, probing the mind’s distinctions and the source of uprightness.

Yet most secular texts, after thousands of years of war, censorship, and countless revisions, were incomplete or altered in unknown ways.

Among tens of thousands of books, few contained genuine truths.

The temples, monasteries, and academies were full of learned men discussing lofty principles, but there was not a single true cultivator among them.

No one could solve Luo Feng’s foundational dilemma.

...

“Knock, knock.”

The sound of knocking echoed through the night.

“Come in,” Luo Feng said absentmindedly as he pondered at his desk.

On the desk lay a mountain of books: “The True Classic of Southern Flower,” “The Original Classic of Culture,” “The True Classic of Emptiness,” “The Wonderful Classic of Salvation,” “The Classic of Yin Talismans,” “The Classic of Purity and Tranquility,” “The Western Ascension Classic,” “The Mind Seal Classic,” “The External Landscape Classic of Yellow Court,” “The Internal Landscape Classic of Yellow Court,” “On Sitting and Forgetting;”

“The Diamond Sutra,” “The Sutra of Infinite Life,” “The Amitabha Sutra,” “The Diamond Wisdom Perfection Sutra,” “The Heart of Wisdom Perfection Sutra,” “The Sutra of Medicine Buddha’s Vows,” “The Sutra of Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva’s Vows,” “The Surangama Sutra,” “The Diamond Sutra,” “The Heart Sutra;”

“The Great Learning,” “The Record of Transmission and Practice”...

Zheng Zha entered, cast a glance at the books, and sat silently in a chair to the side.

“Whew!” After a long moment, Luo Feng sighed, stretched, and looked up with a smile. “Old Zheng, what’s on your mind?”

Zheng Zha gazed out the window for a while, then said quietly, “Luo Feng, I’ve decided to go out and see the world of cultivators.”

Luo Feng put down his pen, surprised. “Didn’t we already settle the matter of moving...?”

“No!” Zheng Zha stood up and stared into Luo Feng’s eyes, speaking earnestly. “I want to go to the Shangqing Sect. Maybe they’ll have a way to solve your innate realm problem.”

Luo Feng waved his hand with a laugh, “Old Zheng, I’ve already figured out the method, haven’t I? Besides, the Shangqing Sect’s test is for odd jobs, how can you...”

“That’s still more reliable than you! These books have been passed down for thousands of years—can you be sure they’re all correct, that they’re true, not incomplete or flawed?” Zheng Zha pointed at the pile of books on the desk, rebuking him loudly.

“I’m not...” Luo Feng protested, though he understood deep down.

“One true teaching is worth more than a thousand false books—do you get it?” Suddenly, Zheng Zha exploded, shouting angrily.

Luo Feng jumped in fright, but knew he was in the wrong, muttering weakly, “Why are you yelling so loud?”

Zheng Zha fell silent, observing coldly.

Having been friends for so long, he understood Luo Feng all too well.

Luo Feng had many virtues: he stuck to his principles, was kind-hearted, shrewd, meticulous, and exceptionally gifted.

But he also had a fatal flaw.

This flaw could erase all his advantages.

That flaw—he never asked for help.

Never seeking outside assistance was Luo Feng’s defining trait, even his Dao heart.

This trait made him a recluse, always wanting to become immortal by hiding away.

It enabled him to devise dozens of schemes on his own, ensnaring the Black Dragon Gang and evading the scrutiny of other cultivators.

Yet, like the sword of Damocles, it could fall at any moment and destroy him.

Zheng Zha could foresee Luo Feng’s next moves.

He would follow his own plans, testing each one in turn. If he succeeded, everyone would rejoice; if he failed, it would be over.

Sometimes, Zheng Zha wanted to curse: “With this personality, how do you expect to become immortal? You might as well join the Buddhist order!”

Why not become a librarian in the scripture repository? Wouldn’t that be nice?

If luck favored him, and Kṣitigarbha Bodhisattva opened a back door for him, one lifetime wouldn’t suffice—two, three...

Eventually, he might manage to become a Buddha.

But Zheng Zha didn’t dare say it aloud.

If he did, Luo Feng would surely try the Buddhist path.

The rivalry between gods and bodhisattvas was never something the small fry considered.

Luo Feng would righteously declare, “The Buddhist path to longevity—isn’t it wonderful?!”

...

After countless thoughts, everything boiled down to a single sentence.

Zheng Zha spoke forcefully, “I don’t want your opinion—I want mine.”

“That’s it. We’ll do as I say!”

(End of chapter)