Chapter Forty-Five: June

Turning the page to June, a considerable time had passed since he awoke, and nearly three months since he had cultivated the primordial spiritual root and obtained the spiritual liquid.

In March, the Taoist temple was still the same, but the original Taoist Chen had been completely transformed from inside out.

“The transition from spring to summer—the season is truly beginning to warm.”

By late June it would be the summer solstice, a time when the rains are abundant. The pond in the backyard could hold plenty of water, so there would be no worries about water supply for the coming months.

Today the sky was overcast, layers of clouds casting shadows overhead. Chen Yu lay on a stone at the mountainside, enjoying the cool breeze, his breathing steady and rhythmic as he closed his eyes for a brief rest.

So far, many martial arts within the Yunhe Technique were only barely proficient; the only skills he had truly mastered were footwork and this breathing and circulation method.

The Qi Spirit Body Strengthening Technique had also been gradually perfected step by step.

Training in martial arts was a lifelong endeavor, year after year, leaving no room for slackening. Yet for him, with the Qi seed gathered within his internal organs, he could constantly temper himself without pause, and the effects were remarkable, all without tearing muscle or damaging his viscera.

Qi was gentle, at least so long as he did not actively guide it into the acupuncture points.

Inhale, exhale—

On the mountain, faint white vapor drifted from Chen Yu’s mouth and nose, sometimes short and sharp, sometimes slow and drawn out.

His exhalations were longer than his inhalations.

His body relaxed lazily, reclining at ease, yet even in this half-day of leisure, he sought to refine his Qi breathing method.

Suddenly, a pause beneath his nose, followed by two sharp coughs; he half-sat up, pounding his chest a few times before recovering.

His face flushed red—clearly, he had momentarily lost control of his rhythm and been choked.

With the transformation of his liver and the absorption of spiritual liquid, he no longer needed the aid of the Qi Spirit Body Strengthening Technique. For now, he could not find a direction for improvement. The strengthening aspect was still effective, grounded in primordial blood, but the Qi breathing was indeed of little use.

Finally, he recalled a recent thought and attempted to make changes starting with his breathing.

Breath governs the Qi flow within the viscera and bowels, with particular emphasis on exhalation. The Taoist sects contained many methods focused on exhalation, with various schools preserving their own traditions.

Generally speaking, breathing techniques revolve around six sounds: “Xu,” “He,” “Hu,” “Xi,” “Chui,” and “Xi.”

These six sounds are not uttered in isolation but paired with specific actions, each almost a simple and clear breathing technique. The school traditions delve deeper and include more content.

Within the Taoist tradition of this world, breathing and circulation techniques originated a thousand years ago when the sects first arose, initially used only for health preservation.

Passed down orally without written records, later efforts to compile these methods revealed many errors. Thus, the widely known techniques today—such as the Heel Breath Technique, Qi Gathering Method, and External Qi Technique—are all derived from these ancient breathing arts.

Modern techniques bear different names but share similar content, believing that human breath should not rely solely on the mouth and nose but must open all the body’s joints to receive nature, comprehend the Great Dao, and reach the state of breath drawn from the body itself—also called internal breathing.

Interestingly, the embryonic breath Chen Yu had established is described in Taoist texts as a product of internal breathing, said to be the origin of human Qi. Subduing inner Qi and maintaining unity can achieve the pure state of an infant.

Yet his embryonic breath was clearly different; the connection between the two was unclear, and he could not conclude that all scripture claims were false. To him, it was simply a familiar name he had assigned without deeper thought.

At this moment, Chen Yu was reflecting, pinpointing the earlier mistakes, and upon finding solutions, resumed his adjustments.

He did not want mere incremental changes or rhythm alterations; rather, he wished to drive Qi as one would command spiritual power with the Spirit Summoning Technique.

Qi was too difficult to control. The reason it seemed easier now than before was entirely due to his spirit force being continually refined within the Nirvana Palace, becoming dense and solid over time, barely sufficient to coax Qi into the points.

Yet even so, each thread of Qi required a great expenditure of spirit power—too costly and time-consuming.

However, primordial blood was truly a boon. He could not stop and, after much thought, resolved to use unorthodox means to create a method to manipulate Qi.

It was at this point that breathing techniques caught his eye.

Besides this, he had read many common breathing methods in the Taoist scriptures stored in the pavilion below the mountain. Most were created by mountain hermits and were unrecognized by the sect.

This was normal—hermit methods often did not conform to the orthodox Taoist doctrines and so were categorized as miscellaneous books for casual perusal. The truly profound Taoist scriptures were hidden deep within.

Nonetheless, improvement of breathing techniques could not be achieved overnight.

Repeated failures left him unable to grasp a true method to control Qi. He tried all the breathing and circulation methods he had encountered, including the Qi Gathering Technique from the Harmonizing Sha Sect, but all proved useless.

Morning passed in an instant. Still with nothing gained, Chen Yu stopped, relaxed, exhaled stale breath, then rose and smoothed his robes as he headed toward the temple.

He had afternoon duties—removing weeds from the mountain fields and then fetching water for irrigation.

The spring millet was irrigated once a month, requiring little water compared to the medicinal herbs and vegetable gardens, which consumed more. He had previously drawn water from the stone well; now, with the pond, the task would be somewhat lighter.

A sharp cry pierced the sky.

Chen Yu looked up, shading his eyes with his hand, gazing toward the clouds beyond the mountain.

A black eagle soared on mighty wings, talons clutching what appeared to be prey caught from the wilds.

After watching briefly, he withdrew his gaze, pondering whether to build a roof over the chicken coop. The simple bamboo fence could not shield the chickens from the eagle’s talons.

This was a simple matter, requiring little effort—just some dry grass woven into a cover to place atop.

“There really are many fierce beasts in these mountains.”

Not long ago, he had seen a trail of huge footprints; now, a five-foot wingspan eagle appeared. If he did not carefully protect the chicks, he might find the beasts had eaten them before he could.

Lunch was simple. There was little wild boar meat, so he blanched some wild vegetables gathered the day before, seasoned them lightly with two drops of chili sauce, and managed to fill two bowls of rice.

Before weeding and watering, he gathered the drying bracken shoots from the dustpan. These dry roots and stems would be chewy when eaten.

The clouds thickened, the sky dimmed—rain could fall at any moment. He packed them away to wait for sunshine before continuing drying.

Yesterday was bright and clear; today was so overcast. June weather was truly fickle.

Chen Yu took his hoe and soil basket, old tools both, and stepped out the gate, pausing by the peach trees.

Counting the six planted later, there were now seven peach trees infused with spiritual energy. Perhaps because of the time passed, the others showed no obvious changes, but the earliest one had not dulled its petals like the rest; instead, they grew even more radiant and alluring.

He plucked a petal and tasted it—still the familiar flavor. His eyes blinked in relief; at least it no longer tasted bitter enough to bring tears. After repeated trials, he had nearly grown accustomed.