Chapter Twenty-Four: Passing Down the Art

Once again, Che Wuyou was stunned, unable to comprehend why Miao Shilin would ask such a question. Even if he wished to take revenge, how could he possibly achieve it? Han Feng was a formidable master at the Purple Palace level; even if Che Wuyou dedicated himself to thirty years of study, he might never surpass Han Feng. Moreover, even if he desired to learn cultivation techniques, who would be willing to teach him?

For a time, the three fell into silence. This time, Miao Shilin did not urge Che Wuyou but waited patiently. After a long while, Che Wuyou finally replied, his voice low but filled with certainty, “I do. I think about it by day, and I think about it at night.”

“Oh?” Miao Shilin seemed surprised by his answer and pressed on, “So how do you plan to take your revenge? Do you intend to kill him?” His voice rose and fell, betraying a hint of agitation.

Che Wuyou glanced at Miao Shilin, noting his expression remained indifferent. After a brief hesitation, Che Wuyou shook his head. “I’ve never thought of killing him. If I grow strong someday, I’ll give him a good beating. However he beat me, I’ll beat him back in kind.” As he spoke, he lowered his head and clenched his fists tightly.

“Why? He has humiliated you so deeply—should he not be killed? Do you not want to kill him?” Miao Shilin’s voice was thick with questioning.

At that moment, Che Wuyou’s mind drifted back to the scene when he left the Che family, reciting the family precepts aloud before everyone at his mother’s urging. After a while, he answered bitterly, “My mother once told me I must be a strong and kind child.”

Miao Shilin was taken aback, not expecting such a reply. After a moment, he merely nodded at Che Wuyou, uncertain. His voice then became hazy, almost as though he was speaking to himself: “Do you wish to learn the ways of immortal cultivation?”

Che Wuyou was startled, scarcely able to believe his ears. Fearing he had misheard, he quickly looked up at the slightly bewildered Miao Shilin and asked tentatively, “You’re willing to teach me? But... how can you teach me?” After a year of hardship, he was no longer the same Che Wuyou who had first arrived at the Miao family.

Miao Shilin’s expression grew complicated as he glanced at Che Wuyou. “Although you have taken the pill to nourish your sea of consciousness, it can only temporarily suppress your illness. If you wish to live longer, or to heal completely, cultivating the ways of the immortals is the only path. Once your cultivation advances, your spiritual consciousness will grow strong. Perhaps then, your illness will cure itself.”

Though Miao Shilin had not given a direct answer, Che Wuyou gleaned his intent from these words—he meant to teach him the ways of immortal cultivation. With a person of such status, deception seemed unlikely and unnecessary. Whatever his reasons, Che Wuyou was filled with joy at the prospect.

Yet his happiness was short-lived, and his expression soon darkened. “Even if you are willing to teach me, I won’t be able to learn. People often say I’m a fool, a blockhead. How could I ever master the profound arts of the immortals?” He recalled his days of study at the Che family, feeling lost and uncertain. Was he truly destined never to walk the path of immortality? The thought filled him with bitter unwillingness.

Miao Shilin, seeing the sincerity in Che Wuyou’s words, softened slightly and nodded in agreement. “Your aptitude is indeed the worst I have ever seen. You are not suited for the path of immortal cultivation. However, everyone has their own fate; perhaps there is a way suited to you after all.”

Che Wuyou looked at Miao Shilin curiously, unable to understand his meaning. Could there really be a cultivation technique suited to him? But how could that be? Cultivation was a defiance of the heavens, and aptitude was paramount; without it, no matter how hard one tried, it would all be in vain. This was an unchanging truth in the world of cultivation—could Miao Shilin overturn this, find another path? It seemed impossible.

Miao Shilin paid no mind to Che Wuyou’s surprise. Turning away, he pondered for a time, then waved his hand. “Go now. Starting tomorrow, come here to cultivate together with your senior sister Lanzhi. If there’s anything you don’t understand, ask her. If she cannot answer, you may come to me.”

Indeed, the next morning, Liu Lanzhi called Che Wuyou to the Miao family’s martial hall early. When they arrived, Miao Shilin was already waiting. He pointed to two bowls, each filled with a green liquid. “One for each of you. Drink your own.”

Che Wuyou was curious about the contents of the bowl. Seeing Liu Lanzhi pick up a bowl engraved with her name and drink it down in one gulp, he followed suit, picking up the bowl engraved with his own name and drinking the green liquid.

The taste was peculiar, with a strong herbal aroma but an underlying bitterness. Yet after drinking it, he felt a cool and refreshing sensation throughout his body, his spirits instantly revived.

As he reveled in this feeling, he suddenly sensed a cold stream of energy in his dantian, powerful and wild, surging about restlessly. His dantian swelled, and a tearing pain swept through him.

Startled, unsure what to do, he heard a voice command, “Focus your mind on your dantian, relax, and try to control the true energy within. Guide it through a cycle…” As the voice spoke, a hand pressed gently against his back.

Following the instructions, Che Wuyou attempted to guide the true energy, but it was fierce and unruly, beyond his control—like a wild horse, it rampaged through his dantian.

The pain in his abdomen intensified, his belly swelling like a balloon, threatening to burst. His skin felt as though it might split. At that moment, he sensed a vast stream of heat flow from his back, entering his dantian with uncanny precision, as if intimately familiar with his body’s structure.

With the aid of this powerful heat, the cold energy was gradually subdued, finally settling silently in a corner of his dantian.

Che Wuyou breathed a sigh of relief, feeling his dantian with delight. The suffering had been worthwhile. For the first time, he found happiness after hardship, and for the first time, his dantian’s true energy felt truly full. He savored the sensation, feeling grounded and content.

He recalled Miao Shilin’s words from the previous day: “Everyone has their own fate; perhaps there is a path suited to you.” At first, he thought it was merely comfort, but now he realized Miao Shilin truly meant what he said—there were indeed other paths to immortal cultivation.

He saw Liu Lanzhi still meditating, while Miao Shilin had disappeared. Filled with excitement and curiosity, he sat cross-legged, closed his eyes, and tried to guide the true energy in his dantian as Miao Shilin had taught.

After several attempts, his expression grew grim. No matter what he tried, the true energy in his dantian remained immobile, unresponsive to his will. He felt frustrated, unable to wield the fullness within him—worse than having none at all.

Fortunately, he had long grown accustomed to disappointment, never daring to dream of instant success. At least having true energy was better than none; perhaps one day he might gain control. After some effort, seeing the energy unmoved, he stood awkwardly and watched Liu Lanzhi cultivate.

Liu Lanzhi had changed greatly since a year ago, growing more beautiful and graceful. Her childlike face now carried a faint aura of authority, her closed eyes framed by fluttering lashes, endearing and adorable. Che Wuyou’s heart warmed; these were the memories most worth cherishing in the Miao family. Though Liu Lanzhi seldom spoke with him, it did not diminish his gratitude or the quiet admiration he felt for her.

After a long while, Liu Lanzhi opened her eyes. Seeing Che Wuyou idly wandering the hall, she exclaimed in surprise, “Wow, you refined the medicine so quickly? No wonder I overheard Master telling Mistress you were a ‘good seed for cultivation,’ and saying your spiritual power was at the second level or something.”

Imitating Miao Shilin’s tone, she continued, “Who would’ve thought the Che family’s boy has second-tier spiritual power—unbelievable! You really hid it well. Oh, by the way, what is spiritual power?”

Her last question was directed at Che Wuyou.

Che Wuyou, hearing Liu Lanzhi’s clear, rapid-fire voice, had no time to unravel the meaning of her words amidst her barrage of questions. He stood dumbfounded, confused. “No, I don’t know what a good seed is, nor what spiritual power or second-tier means.”