Chapter 19: The Flower of Essence, Perfection!

Chapter 19: The Essence, Perfected!

Other scriptures are either lacking, ineffective, obscure and impenetrable, or even fabricated and harmful. After a thousand years of transmission—taboos, alterations, and losses—even true scriptures can become false.

After practicing the Arhat Fist once and reciting the three scriptures, his body led the meridians into motion, and his soul, for an instant, became ethereal. This sensation was exquisitely subtle, only one ten-thousandth of normal; if Luofeng hadn’t cultivated the breathing technique, he wouldn’t have sensed it at all. The difference between presence and absence is absolute.

Clutching the manual and the three scriptures tightly, Luofeng smiled faintly. “Good heavens, you nearly frightened your father to death. After more than a year of anxiety, there’s finally a solution.”

He was certain—the scriptures were useful.

A single taut string within him slowly relaxed.

He acted as he spoke; no hesitation, only resolve!

The next day, he threw himself into cultivation.

Luofeng had never been one for wavering—only cautious.

In dealings with others, he practiced prudence, even if it meant living humbly. Yet his heart, his path, was never compromised; rather, it was open and upright. Previously, with no path ahead, he had still pressed forward, relying on nothing but a single breathing technique, forging ahead in hardship.

He was well aware that in this world there were sects of wonder-workers, countless marvelous techniques and supernatural powers, yet he never stole or seized them. One may compromise in worldly affairs, but never in the heart. You may deceive anyone—but never yourself.

To others, this might seem hopelessly naïve; only children care for good and evil, adults care for profit. When life itself is at stake, worldly customs, human morality, ethics—all become meaningless. “After my death, what of the flood?” as the saying goes.

But Luofeng refused to see it that way. He would not recognize, accept, or conform to such a creed.

We strive, not to change the world, but to prevent the world from changing us.

This is the cultivation of heart, of self, of the inner being.

If one is not even oneself, what use is strength? What use is longevity? What use are riches and glory?

The greatest divide between man and beast is the self.

Man stands upright beneath the sky and above the earth.

…

Dawn of the next day.

As the first trace of purple light hesitated at the horizon, Luofeng hiked up the mountain and sat cross-legged at the summit, reciting the scripture of purity:

“The Lord Lao says: The Great Way is formless; it gives birth to Heaven and Earth. The Great Way is impartial; it sets the sun and moon in motion. The Great Way is nameless; it nurtures all things.”

“I do not know its name; I call it the Way.”

“The Way is: clear and turbid, moving and still; Heaven is clear, Earth is turbid; Heaven moves, Earth is still; man is clear, woman is turbid; man moves, woman is still. Descending from the root to the branches, all things are born.”

“The clear is the source of the turbid, movement is the foundation of stillness; if a person can always be pure and still, Heaven and Earth will return to them.”

…

After several rounds of recitation and contemplation, the golden sun had already leapt above the horizon.

Luofeng returned home, stoked the fire, cooked the meal, and watched Yuanyuan head off to school.

Then, he began to practice the Arhat Fist in the courtyard—focusing on form, flesh, stance, and breath.

At noon, he balanced exertion with relaxation, resting for an hour.

He tended the fire, cooked, bathed, and napped.

At two in the afternoon, he rose punctually and resumed training—one move, two moves, three moves, then the entire sequence—constantly adjusting and adapting.

In the evening, he brought Yuanyuan home, conversed, and taught.

At night, he bathed, cleansed himself, and sat on his bed, silently reciting the Scripture of the Yellow Court:

“The Lord Lao, in his leisure, composed seven-word lines, explaining the body and its spirits. Above is the Yellow Court, below the Pass of Origin; behind, the Dark Gate; before, the Gate of Life.”

“Breathe through the hut to the elixir field; the jade pool’s clear water irrigates the spiritual root. If one can truly cultivate, one may endure; the person in the Yellow Court wears vermilion robes.”

…

A day passed, then a cycle, a month, a season, a year, two years, three years.

Luofeng’s days continued unchanged—reciting the scripture of purity at dawn, the Scripture of the Yellow Court by night, and pondering the Arhat Fist in between.

He remained unmoved, steady as Mount Tai.

Then, one afternoon, a stir in his spirit—thunder crackled through his body.

He exhaled a long, foul breath, yet it wasn’t enough.

He coughed several times; his internal organs shook as he spat out black phlegm and blood, foul-smelling and accompanied by several sand-like concretions.

After vomiting, a sense of clarity and vitality followed.

Luofeng mocked himself, “All those harmful additives—no wonder I couldn’t grasp the primordial breath.”

Throughout history, the founders and sages who became immortals all emphasized cultivation of the body.

The Way pursues the Pure Glass Immortal Body; Buddhism, the six-zhang Tathagata Golden Form.

As Ancestor Lü once said: “To cultivate only nature, not the elixir, is to remain a wandering spirit for ten thousand kalpas, never entering sainthood.”

Both body and soul are the roots of cultivation.

Having now grasped the Arhat Fist, Luofeng continued his routines until the next day.

Then he ceased the practice of the Arhat Fist, turning to resolve the blockage of vital energy.

Heaven and earth are a great cosmos; the human body, a small cosmos.

Since ancient times, a breach in the Yellow River has been a great calamity.

But if the flow can be controlled, millions of acres of fertile land may be created, nurturing countless people.

Heaven’s Way is inconstant—it does not exist for sage-kings, nor perish for tyrants.

All things have their measure; the key lies in maintaining it.

By mastering the measure, one can wield destiny itself.

Within Luofeng was his own Yellow River.

Years of cultivation had accumulated, never breaking through, causing a blockage.

It was as if a dam had been built upon the Yellow River, holding back the surging waters—peaceful for a time.

But once the sluice gates open, the river will rush into the sea, unstoppable, unmatchable.

Seated upon a boulder, he summoned his will and the strength of his body, forcibly opening the gates, guiding the current through his limbs and bones, nourishing his essence.

Layers of white mist soared to the heavens; a vast, illusory, half-real lotus of energy bloomed above his head, dominating his being.

A moan escaped him as a mighty surge of vital energy shattered the dark barrier and rushed to the core.

The breathing technique reached perfect mastery at the twelfth level; energy manifested, setting the great cycle in motion.

With a sudden exertion, the hundred-pound boulder beneath him began to crack.

A drop of sweat fell to the earth, stirring up a cloud of dust.

Vital energy transformed into primordial energy; Luofeng rose naturally.

Behind him, the boulder crumbled into countless fragments.

“Begun at one, established at three, formed at five, flourished at seven, culminated at nine, ended at ten,” Luofeng murmured.

Energy takes form in one year; essence, three years to a nascent state, five years to full form. As for spirit—it is mysterious, perhaps requiring seven, nine, or even more years.

If more than ten years pass, even if innate perfection is not impossible, the best chance is missed, and hope grows dim.

After touching the nascent stage of essence, Luofeng’s life continued as always.

Ten years, as if one day.

Daily cultivation, caring for Yuanyuan, corresponding with friends.

Zheng Zha wrote, on average, once a year.

His days in the Supreme Purity Sect grew ever better.

His talent for talismanic arts even surpassed the founders of the sect.

No sect would dare use such a genius as a spy.

With such gifts, he was bound to become a pillar of the sect, if not the head, then at least a Grand Elder.

If sent out as a spy, and won over by another’s kindness, it would be a case of losing both wife and soldiers—sending a meat bun after a dog, never to return.

Republic of China, 1932: Essence perfected; Zheng Zha famed among the outer disciples.

Republic of China, 1934: Spirit at its nascent stage; Zheng Zha passes the Supreme Purity Sect’s examination, officially becomes an inner disciple, and invites Luofeng to the ceremony.

Republic of China, …

(End of chapter)