Chapter Eight: Entering the Microcosm

Sunlight slanted across the courtyard, and a gentle breeze drifted by.

It was the languid time of afternoon.

This was an exquisitely designed courtyard, where two elderly men sat facing each other, drinking tea.

“Old Tang, you said you had good news and insisted I come over. Well, here I am; I’ve had two cups of tea already, and you’re still grinning to yourself. What’s this good news, are you going to tell me or not? If you don’t, I’m leaving. You’re back here for a holiday, but me? I’ve got a mountain of troubles waiting!”

“Old Song, look at you—so impatient. At your age, can’t you learn to relax?” Old Tang replied with a smile.

“I’m not like you, already famous and accomplished. I was born to toil,” Old Song snorted. “Just these past few days, entertaining you has worn me out. You old rascal, you shouldn’t have come back!”

“All right, all right, it’s been decades and you’re still so hot-tempered! Old Song, let me tell you, I’ve found a real talent, a prodigy. You can’t possibly imagine how good this kid is, how astonishing.”

“A talent? There aren’t any decent young cultivators in the city. If there were, I’d know!”

“That’s just it—you don’t know. I’ve been wandering around, and this morning in Jinshui Park, I saw a youngster. His Zhen Fist is perfected, yet he hasn’t even reached the stage where his sinews and bones resonate.”

“Could he be only seven or eight? His bones not hardened, but with extraordinary comprehension?”

“He’s a high school senior.”

“Impossible, absolutely impossible! Old Tang, your cultivation surpasses mine, but you can’t just make things up. If his Zhen Fist is perfected, his Soft Fist and Army Boxing must be too. Even with poor constitution or a bad family background, the school would have discovered his potential and given him support. Even if he cultivated in secret, he’d still have reached the stage where sinews and bones resonate. No, even if his Zhen Fist was perfected, it wouldn’t make you this happy.”

“But it’s all true. The kid said he’d only recently awakened his abilities. Naturally, I didn’t quite believe him, so I made a bet. I demonstrated the Yin-Yang Fist, and told him that if he could master it to proficiency within a day, I’d give him a Foundation Pill.”

“Recently awakened? That’s not unheard of. Sometimes the mind suddenly clears, comprehension surges—it happens. But Old Tang, the Yin-Yang Fist isn’t easy: it contains the principles of hardness and softness, their mutual aid and opposition. To master it in a day would mark him as a rare genius, but even so, it wouldn’t make you this gleeful. Could it be he mastered it in half a day? No, if it was just half a day, you wouldn’t have called me here. Don’t tell me he reached mastery in half a day? If so, he truly is a prodigy.”

“You underestimate me. If it were only half a day to mastery, would I have bothered to share it with you?”

“Then out with it—stop beating around the bush!”

“Crude as always!” Old Tang’s expression grew serious. “He watched me demonstrate once, then performed it himself ten times and achieved perfection.”

“Unbelievable!” Old Song lost his composure. “Are you sure he’s just a high school senior, not reached the resonance of sinews and bones, and has never practiced the Yin-Yang Fist before?”

“You think anyone could fool me?” Old Tang snorted. “And that’s not the most crucial part. The key is, after he took the Foundation Pill, he immediately cultivated, broke through to the resonance of sinews and bones, achieved subtle mastery, and in one go opened his Dantian and Qi Sea.”

“Remarkable, truly a jade among men. No wonder you’re making such a fuss. Old Tang, you must have taken him as a disciple. Invite him over sometime so I can see for myself.”

“Don’t be hasty—there’s more.”

“Don’t tell me he even awakened spiritual power! That’s one in ten thousand odds!”

“No! But when he opened his Dantian, his body merged with the world, and he directly established a Qi Sea two zhang in diameter.”

“Body merging with the world? A Qi Sea two zhang wide?” Old Song exclaimed, his breath coming fast. “So extraordinary? Old Tang, you’ve taken him as your disciple?”

“No.”

“You old fool, don’t tell me you’d pass up such a genius! If you won’t take him, I will—who is he?”

“I’d be afraid of leading such a prodigy astray; you?!” Old Tang huffed, then grew solemn. “Once a genius like this catches the wind, he’ll soar to the highest heavens. Just keep an eye on him, help him when you can—no matter what, he’s one of our own from Pingyang.”

The two continued to mutter and discuss.

At home.

Jiang Ming had researched a great deal and now began to commit the Guiyuan Sutra and the Ninefold Thunder Slash to memory, closing his eyes to review and internalize them.

He began to ponder the Guiyuan Sutra.

This was the essential heart of cultivation, the root of all methods.

When a martial artist breaks through to the second realm, they can harmonize their mind with the world and draw in vital energy—a unique state. After breaking through, to absorb energy again requires a cultivation technique.

After a while, Jiang Ming opened his eyes with a look of comprehension.

He had already grasped the essence of the Guiyuan Sutra, the method of absorbing vital energy and transforming it into true qi.

“But with the size of my Dantian, filling it with true qi will be a real challenge!”

Not just a challenge—an ordeal.

Most of the energy he absorbed during his breakthrough was used to expand his Dantian, leaving it now vast and empty.

Just what does a ten-zhang diameter mean? It’s a sphere with a radius of thirty-three meters!

The thought made Jiang Ming’s scalp tingle.

“One step at a time.”

He sighed, then sat cross-legged on the sofa, circulating his technique. The true qi in his Dantian and Qi Sea began to flow, creating a unique cycle within his body, drawing the surrounding energy into himself, which then flowed back into his Dantian, transformed into true qi.

At first, the process was slow.

Threads of energy trickled in, refined into true qi in his Qi Sea.

As his cultivation progressed, Jiang Ming’s soul vibrated, his spirit expanded, and without realizing it, he resonated with the world’s rhythm. His body seemed to merge with nature itself, every pore and limb absorbing energy from the heavens and earth.

At this moment, he was truly a gluttonous beast.

As dusk fell, Jiang Ming opened his eyes, a flash of brilliance flickering and then fading. “My cultivation speed should be fast—no, extremely fast—yet for me, it’s still slow.”

His Dantian was simply too vast.

He touched his stomach; hunger was faint.

This was the benefit of reaching the second martial realm—able to absorb vital energy, his need for food naturally diminished.

After going out for dinner, he began to study the Ninefold Thunder Slash.

For him, it was no great challenge.

The night passed uneventfully.

Tianwu Calendar, Year 9918, May 28, 9:00 a.m.

Jiang Ming, sword slung over his back, arrived at the Myriad Worlds Tower.

The building was nine stories tall, next to the City Lord’s mansion, with many martial artists coming and going, some carrying weapons.

The first-floor hall was spacious.

It functioned as a lounge, offering drinks and food. Many martial artists sat chatting, exchanging experiences.

On one side were several elevators in a row. Each elevator led to a different floor, with an attendant stationed before each.

Jiang Ming headed toward the elevator to the second floor.

“Please verify your identity!” the female attendant said with a smile, directing him to a nearby machine.

“Alright!” Jiang Ming took out his phone, pulled up his identification, and began the verification. A beam of light swept over him, scanning.

“Second martial realm, verification complete!”

A chime sounded, and the elevator doors opened automatically. Jiang Ming stepped inside.

The second floor was also spacious, with only a handful of people scattered about.

A few middle-aged men looked hesitant, seemingly torn between risk and caution.

To Jiang Ming’s surprise, he spotted a familiar face.

“Qin Zhiyan, what are you doing here?” He approached her.

It was none other than his class monitor and campus beauty, Qin.

He was genuinely surprised.

“Jiang Ming!” Qin Zhiyan was startled as well. She hesitated. “I wanted to take a chance.”

“There’s no need.” Jiang Ming sat opposite her. “Given your abilities, it might be tough to get into a top martial academy, but you can easily choose from the first-tier ones. Why take this risk? I’ve looked up the facts: for students like us who’ve just broken through, entering the world secret realm is almost certain death—few actually gain any benefit.”

“Then why are you here?” Qin Zhiyan shot back.

“My situation is special,” Jiang Ming hesitated, then reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder before she could react.

Qin Zhiyan felt a sudden weight, as if a mountain was pressing down, making her almost unable to bear it. Even when she tried to resist with her cultivation, it was useless, while Jiang Ming looked completely unfazed.

Her face filled with shock and disbelief. “You—you—how is this possible? Didn’t you just break through yesterday?”

She spoke in a hushed whisper.

“I told you, my situation is unique.” Jiang Ming withdrew his hand. “Do you have a compelling reason to go in?”

“No, I just wanted to try for a top academy.”

“Even at the risk of death? You still have parents.”

At that, Qin Zhiyan fell silent, then forced a bitter smile. “You’re usually so reserved—I didn’t expect you to be so good at talking sense. Sigh, I really shouldn’t be here! What about you? Is there something you must do in there?”

“There is.” Jiang Ming nodded.

“You really don’t have to. Just as you told me, if you cultivate steadily, your future achievements will be great. Even if you have grudges, with your potential, you could resolve them easily—no need to risk your life.”

“Since I’m here, I’ve already prepared for everything. Qin Zhiyan, if I don’t come back, take my things to Fatty Wang and let him do as he pleases.”

Jiang Ming stood and walked toward the fantastical gate—a doorframe filled with darkness.

In front of the gate sat a middle-aged man, playing with his phone. Hearing footsteps, he looked up and frowned at Jiang Ming. “You’re still young. Are you sure you want to risk this? It’s deadly.”

“I’m ready to accept whatever consequences come.” Jiang Ming cupped his hands respectfully. “Please process my entry.”

“Alright.” The man nodded, gesturing toward a nearby machine. “Scan your ID. First-time entry is free; after that, it’s a hundred thousand credits each time.”

“Sign a death waiver and leave your belongings in the locker.”

“In the next room are period costumes—pick whatever you like, free of charge, along with some accessories. If you’ve got money, you can have someone inside style you and even fit a wig.”

“Read the instructions before you go in.”

“Let me remind you again: prior experience doesn’t count for much, because the world you enter is random and ever-changing. New secret realms can even appear at any time.”

The man rattled off the instructions.

Jiang Ming completed the verification, put his phone and other items in the locker, hesitated, then even left his sword behind. He entered the next room, and after quite some time, emerged dressed in a white scholar’s robe, a jade pendant at his waist, a folding fan in hand. His short hair had been styled into long locks, arranged so perfectly it was impossible to tell it was a wig.

He truly looked like a gentleman from a painting, a peerless noble.

Qin Zhiyan, approaching, was momentarily startled, stealing a few more glances before her face turned solemn. “Do you really have to go?”

“I must.” Jiang Ming smiled. “My things are in the locker—if I don’t return in an hour, take them. After all, I have no attachments.”

He cupped his hands in farewell and strode through the portal without hesitation, his figure vanishing.

Qin Zhiyan stood there, lost in thought.