Chapter Twelve: Embryonic Breath

The Grand Daoist Assembly was far beyond his reach; it was wiser to seize the opportunity before him now, lest the journey be in vain.

Chen Yu withdrew from his thoughts, his gaze settling ahead.

The opening rites were intricate and lengthy, but at last, after all formalities were observed, the most anticipated segment—the discourse on the Dao—began.

“Fellow cultivators, I am Feiyunzi of Tiger Cliff Mountain. I have been plagued by a question for many years, tossing and turning without rest.”

Even as the gathering commenced, a Daoist stepped forward. With forceful breath and voice, he made himself heard throughout the hall.

“Speak, then.”

“No need for courtesy, brother. Lay your doubts before us. If any of us gain insight here, we shall not begrudge sharing it.”

“Indeed, as it should be! Blessings from the Boundless Heavenly Lord!”

Whisk brooms swept through the air as if clearing the dust from their hearts. Soon, groups of three or five Daoists clustered together, exchanging their knowledge, insights, and confusions.

Some stood, some prostrated themselves; one Daoist let out a cry like an eagle, demonstrating a rare defensive technique, while others crowded around, applauding and offering their own interpretations.

At this assembly, save for deeply held secrets, all could speak without restraint!

Chen Yu wandered the gathering, head lowered, observing all.

“What is the essence of an elixir?” nearby, a practitioner of alchemy pondered, holding a pill in his hand. “Is it the One Dao? Or is it the myriad things?”

Not far off, two Pure Bright Daoists stood head to head, their faces flushed with argument.

“To sit in meditation and forget the self, to guide the flow of energy through the body—this is the principle for longevity. How can one neglect such practice?”

“Nonsense! Neither heart nor nature, tangled as weeds, chaotic as river reeds—how can one achieve realization through mere sitting? Is this not living in a dream?”

Carefully skirting around them, Chen Yu saw two elderly cultivators seated on the ground, accompanied by a young boy in matching Daoist robes—presumably a disciple.

“To channel baleful energy into the balance of yin and yang—can this restore the primordial state?”

The old Daoist began, only to be interrupted by his disciple.

“Master, that’s not quite right. The original words are—”

“Nonsense! Would I not know this myself?”

“Pff—clearly it’s about channeling gentle energy, returning to infancy—”

“You, you, you! Unfilial disciple! You’ll be the death of me!”

“Haha, Old Pine, your disciple truly has a spark—makes me envious! Hahaha!”

Chen Yu watched with great amusement from the side. He did not immediately join the debates, instead strolling and taking it all in.

After nearly half an hour of wandering, his mind brimming with ideas and questions, he finally paused, found a nearby spot, and, blending into a group of arguing Daoists, began to share his own understanding and views.

In that moment, there were no distinctions of sect, age, or lineage. All divisions dissolved, grievances were set aside; they shared only a single identity—seekers of the Way.

Nothing else mattered. Here, all were fellow cultivators.

…

An hour slipped by in lively conversation.

The sun dipped behind the western hills, unnoticed by the crowd. Only when many stomachs began to rumble did the debates reluctantly come to a halt.

The Daoists, parched and hoarse, stood and stomped the numbness from their legs, then looked at those with whom they had nearly quarreled, sharing a smile.

Chen Yu found Daoist Jiang, but as the latter needed to rejoin his sect, they parted ways, each carrying away new insights. Chen Yu made his way to a noodle shop for lunch.

Two full bowls later, he let out a satisfied sigh.

He had gained much this day, deepening his understanding of both the world of Daoist cultivation and the classics of renowned masters. Some novel ideas had emerged as well, inspirations pressing so heavily on his mind they seemed to weigh him down.

No, this was no illusion.

This gathering had plunged him into contemplation time and again, and with each round, the glowing orb in his mind became ever more fractured.

After paying with a few coins, he strolled slowly down the street.

“Clearly divine, attainable only with reverence…”

Murmuring the incantation to summon spirits, he felt his sea of consciousness tremble. To the naked eye, the soft white orb had shattered and vanished without a trace, its spiritual energy now overflowing.

He guided it with effort to the center of his brow.

That place, which he had named the Palace of Muddy Marrow, was now brimming.

When he first came into contact with mystical forces, he had opened this space, but it had long lain dormant, suspended between reality and illusion, and he never found a use for it.

He discovered it could store spiritual energy, but in those days, his reserves were pitifully small—barely enough for daily practice, so he dared not fill it.

Besides, once stored, there seemed to be nothing magical about it. At best, it could be slightly nurtured, but the effect was mediocre.

Now, with the orb fully shattered and a torrent of spiritual energy pressing at his forehead, he was forced to channel it all into the Palace of Muddy Marrow.

The original, misty chaos vanished along with the collapse of the orb, for reasons he could not fathom.

“Isn’t the Palace of Muddy Marrow for generating spiritual energy in others? Why is mine so odd?”

It seemed less like the famed Palace of Muddy Marrow and more like a preservation chamber.

At the same time, Chen Yu felt more keenly that his technique for summoning spirits needed improvement. An enormous reserve of spiritual energy pressed within him, yet his technique lagged behind, unable to keep pace, its operation still somewhat clumsy.

“Fortunately, I picked up a few ideas from various fellow cultivators. Time to try them.”

Back at his lodging, he washed up and sat in quiet meditation, reviewing every detail of his summoning technique in his mind.

“A fine method.”

The more he learned, the more Chen Yu marveled at his own fortune.

For a half-baked Daoist such as himself to devise a technique for harnessing spiritual energy—what luck.

“No wonder I’m me.”

Still, it needed revision. With greater reserves now, it was only fitting to refine it further.

After all, no matter how ingenious the method, only a small part was truly refined; much else could still be improved.

He worked at it until night had fallen.

“Whew… at last, it’s done.”

For now, at least.

In his room, Chen Yu took a deep breath and tested the newly revised summoning technique.

His spiritual energy extended quietly, reaching half a foot beyond his shoulders.

Then slowly downward, until it reached his waist and abdomen.

Delight flashed across his face. Previously, his control extended only as far as his shoulders. When practicing the organ-rebirth technique, he had to rely on his tongue to direct spiritual force—no matter how skilled he became, the organs and the tongue remained disconnected.

Now, with the energy reaching his waist and abdomen, he was close to linking his entire body. Soon, his five viscera and six bowels would be united not only by inner strength but also by the powerful connection of spiritual energy, achieving true harmony.

And with this cooperation, perhaps his internal cultivation would progress even faster!

“It wasn’t for lack of will, but a lack of ability—until now.”

But when he finally managed to guide his spiritual energy past his navel, a faint, invisible force perceptible only to the mind suddenly surged forth.

“This… is that mysterious power?!”

Chen Yu was astonished. This force had first appeared when he drank the spiritual liquid, enabling him to circulate inner energy throughout his body for the first time, breaking through a barrier that had stymied him for years.

The appearance of spiritual energy was also connected to it.

Though both were accidents, it was clear that this power was deeply entwined with him.

“So it’s been dwelling here all along.”

He muttered to himself. Three inches below the navel—wasn’t that the lower dantian?

So what to call this power?

Inner strength? Vital essence? Mana?

In the end, Chen Yu decided to give it a fitting name. Since it currently had none of the remarkable qualities described in stories, he would simply call it prenatal breath.

Then he realized: now that he had both spiritual energy and prenatal breath, what was next?

With a thought, he tried to combine the two.

As he discovered the prenatal breath beneath his navel, he sensed his spiritual energy inexorably drawing toward that spot.

“So it was this dantian-like region emitting that subtle pull all along.”

His thoughts churned. In the next moment, a wisp of spiritual energy blended with the prenatal breath, fusing seamlessly.

And then… the prenatal breath grew denser and more robust.

No change?

Impossible—as Chen Yu sensed carefully, he realized that some kind of transformation was occurring within the prenatal breath, slow at first, but when he added another wisp of spiritual energy, the process accelerated dramatically.

“It feels much like when spiritual energy was first being nurtured within me, only this time, it’s more controlled, more lucid.”