Chapter Fifty: When the Dust Settles

Chen Jin could recite the general outline of the “True Self’s Return to Origin Illuminating Spirit Heart Sutra” and so he simply wrote it down for Chen Lan, passing it on to her with annotations explaining its true meaning for her understanding.

However, this was an ancient method. In truth, Chen Jin didn’t want his little sister to follow the ancient path of cultivation, as reaching the Spirit-Focusing Realm through the old ways required enduring the tribulation of thunder, whereas the modern method no longer did. Therefore, he only imparted to her the general outline of the Sutra, omitting the specific practices for each stage.

This “True Self’s Return to Origin Illuminating Spirit Heart Sutra” was unlike the “White Emperor’s Profound Origin True Scripture.” The latter belonged to an even more archaic tradition; as long as one comprehended its essence, cultivation was possible, regardless of methods pertaining to each realm. Chen Jin even suspected that the “White Emperor’s Profound Origin True Scripture” had no defined realms to begin with—those that existed were likely appended by later generations adapting to the times.

Thinking this way, it seemed only natural that the “White Emperor’s Profound Origin True Scripture” could neither be copied nor recited. After all, antiquity begets mystery, and with mystery, anything is possible.

If the present method is the Golden Core Path, the ancient method is the Qi Refining Path represented by sutras like the “True Self’s Return to Origin Illuminating Spirit Heart Sutra,” and the even older method is the Divine Intent Path of the “White Emperor’s Profound Origin True Scripture,” then could there be methods even more ancient? Or perhaps, in the future, new cultivation methods will emerge?

With so many ways to cultivate, which method is superior?

Everything in the world is subject to comparison, and so it must be for these cultivation methods. In this era, however, there seemed to be a distaste for the ancient methods and a preference for the modern. Could this mean that the world itself is driving cultivators to change their ways? Or is it that the cultivators’ methods are altering the world, thereby prompting the world to reshape the cultivators’ practices?

Chen Jin’s thoughts spun rapidly; with a mind so sharp, he could not help but ponder endlessly.

He quietly recited the Metal Breath Formula, severing these stray thoughts.

“Take this and study it. If you can memorize it, that’s good; if not, it doesn’t matter. In a month, the state will promulgate their own cultivation method. You’ll be able to learn that one, and it should be much simpler,” Chen Jin told Chen Lan.

He surmised that this new method would be extremely basic, perhaps akin to radio calisthenics—first guiding energy into the body, then using visualization of Daoist scriptures to cultivate the spirit.

He had little regard for such a method.

Of course, his words were meant to reassure Chen Lan so she wouldn’t feel too pressured if she couldn’t memorize the text. In truth, the method he most wanted her to follow was the family practice that Wu Quan had mentioned.

“Alright, I’ll go memorize it now,” Chen Lan replied with a bright nod.

“Don’t force yourself if you can’t. Otherwise, it could harm your health. The state’s method will be out soon, so there’s no rush,” Chen Jin reminded her.

“I don’t want that one. It’s ugly and useless anyway…” Chen Lan muttered at the door.

“What did you say?” Chen Jin caught her words.

“I know, I know!” Chen Lan called as she dashed out in a whirlwind.

—

“So she doesn’t want that one, says it’s ugly and useless?” Chen Jin repeated to himself.

“She already knows? Has someone been spreading it around? But I haven’t heard anything…” He felt a twinge of unease.

“Oh well, it’s not exactly a secret. Still, I should keep an eye on the people around her—Lan is so naïve, she’s easily deceived,” he thought.

He then turned his attention to the black leather-bound book, curious to see when the next crossing would occur.

The book indicated it would happen in one month and seven days. As for the nature of the world he’d enter, there were still no clues.

“One more month, and not even a hint. If it’s a famous myth or legend, that’s one thing—but what if I run into another obscure tale like Mount Gehong? Last time I was lucky; it just happened to be a local legend in Xiagu. What about next time? The legends from other places might be impossible to handle. And if I come across an unknown figure, that would be truly unfortunate.”

So, Chen Jin resolved to collect as many regional legends as possible over the next month. The rest would be up to fate.

Before bed, he quietly crept to his sister Chen Lan’s room, sending a ball of low-grade vital energy inside. He did the same for his parents’ room, ensuring they were protected.

With these preparations made, he finally went to rest and meditate.

—

At dawn, Chen Jin woke early—and immediately his phone rang. The call was from Zuo Dingshan.

Could it be that the old lady from yesterday still wanted to harass him?

“Hello?” Chen Jin answered, puzzled.

“It’s me. We’re out,” Zuo Dingshan replied, sounding weary.

“They let you leave?” Chen Jin was surprised.

“Four were left behind,” Zuo Dingshan continued.

“Which four?” Chen Jin asked.

“Zhang Hui, Hao Lian, Hao Lian’s sister, and Qin Yang. They didn’t come out,” Zuo Dingshan responded helplessly.

“Why?” Chen Jin pressed. He had suspected these people might be plotting against him, but how did the village catch them? Was the necessary lure present in that village?

“I don’t know either,” Zuo Dingshan replied.

He truly didn’t know. He’d been a victim as well, and his memories had been manipulated at the time; how could he possibly know more?

“Oh, right—she said you can’t come to that place twice. If you do, you’ll have to stay forever,” Zuo Dingshan suddenly recalled.

“So Zhang Hui and the others had already been there once before?” Chen Jin pondered.

“Who knows? Didn’t you say you’d been there before yourself? Maybe they stumbled in by accident too,” Zuo Dingshan mused.

“Maybe…” Chen Jin gazed at the sky at a forty-five degree angle.

“The village vanished at dawn. Maybe it’ll reappear tonight,” Zuo Dingshan said.

“As long as you made it out,” Chen Jin replied.

In truth, he suspected the village didn’t have the power to trap outsiders outright, especially now that there was no one left to control it. But it had established a rule that anyone who entered twice would be left behind—so it had become, in essence, a graveyard for the reckless. One could be reckless once, even twice, but a third time would never come, for they’d already be gone.

The call ended, and Chen Jin sighed.

He hadn’t even had the chance to show off, let alone slap anyone in the face—and now they were dead. These days, not even an opportunity for a proper showdown was afforded.

He’d planned to crush Zhang Hui and his group, to see the despair on their faces. Now, that wouldn’t happen.

It was all rather unlucky.

“Brother! Are you awake?”

As Chen Jin’s thoughts raced, there was a knock at the door.

He opened it, letting Chen Lan in. She burst in, face alight with excitement.

“Brother, I think I did it! I can feel the energy!”

…