Morning light crept softly across the vast expanse of the eastern sky, dyeing the heavens in hues of molten gold and vermilion. The mountain stirred awake beneath the caress of dawn. Dewdrops glittered like spirit crystals upon jade-green leaves. Birds sang celestial tunes, and spirit beasts roamed the underbrush in search of nourishment, exuding a primal vigor born of the Heavens and Earth.
Yet amidst this serenity, the scars of battle still marred the land.
Charred craters dotted the stone pathway like the aftermath of falling stars. Blades of grass were scorched black, and a massive, man-shaped indent had been carved into the mountainside—evidence of a titanic duel between two cultivators whose strength surpassed the mortal plane.
At the entrance of Heaven's Choice Temple, the stone steps were cracked and stained with dried blood, and upon those cold slabs lay a young man cloaked in the golden light of the Sun.
Liu Chen slowly stirred awake.
His lashes fluttered open, revealing eyes as deep as ancient wells. He inhaled sharply and sat up; golden Qi faintly swirled around his body like the morning mist. His first action was instinctive—he scanned the area, attempting to sense the lingering aura of the man who had fought him like a tempest given form.
There was Nothing.
Tang Hao had long vanished, his tyrannical battle intent dispersed with the wind.
Liu Chen exhaled and crossed his legs, entering the lotus position. With six arms resting calmly upon his knees, he sank into internal silence. His soul dived into his body, probing every tendon and meridian with precise care. A few superficial wounds lingered, including a small gash beneath his ribs, but nothing that would threaten him fatally.
Golden Qi emerged from his pores, rapidly circulating.
His injuries began to mend, bathed in the healing warmth of Heaven and Earth's energy.
Within the depths of his consciousness, Liu Chen reviewed the battle once more.
"Tang Hao… was overwhelming. If this had been a true life-and-death battle, my body would already be ashes."
The memory of those six spears from the sky, born of flaming sigils and celestial runes, flickered through his mind. He recalled how Tang Hao's Star Weapon Creation Technique allowed him to forge swords, shields, and spears without end, drawing upon both his own Qi and the ambient Primal Qi of the world.
"There was no true counter to his Star Weapons Creation technique.Only brute force or perfect timing could negate it, and yet I lacked both. He had said his cultivation method was called the Celestial Body method. It somehow let him draw in energy from his surroundings as if he were cultivating while in battle!"
"I need a way to deal with such a situation when another time arises. Controlling the rate of my energy expenditure next time... no, that's too shallow of a solution. I need a new path—something deeper."
Liu Chen clenched one fist and sighed through his nose. His cultivation wasn't lacking in comprehension, but rather in sustainability. His energy burned too quickly in prolonged exchanges.
As golden light surged through his meridians, Liu Chen found himself immersed in that peculiar clarity that often accompanied the post-battle stillness. His thoughts became as sharp as honed blades. His Qi, once turbulent, now flowed with elegance and grace.
"Isn't this… the true heart of cultivation?"
"To refine body and spirit through Heaven and Earth, to step beyond the limitations of the mortal shell… to comprehend the Dao itself?"
A strange feeling welled up from within—like standing at the precipice of an unseen truth. He could sense it faintly… an elusive concept just beyond his reach. It teased him with the promise of understanding, only to slip away like mist through fingers.
Unwilling to let the feeling go, Liu Chen inhaled deeply, drawing Primal Qi into his body like a sea pulling in the tide. He cycled the energy swiftly through his dantian, and a bold thought surged to the surface:
"If I can absorb energy while sitting down… why not try to absorb it while standing?"
He resolutely opened his eyes and they blazed with golden determination.
Springing up from the ground, Liu Chen walked forward, his footsteps echoing faintly against stone. As he moved, he closed his eyes once more, focusing his spiritual sense on the surrounding Primal Qi. Wisps of energy responded to his call—gathering and swirling around him like threads of invisible silk.
Gathering the energy was easy. The true challenge… was its circulation.
He tried to first send it into his sea of Qi and then his meridians—but met with resistance. A sensation akin to pushing against stone happened. His body instinctively resisted the unconventional process.
"The lotus position only exists because it worked for the first person to try it. But who says it is the only way? If I can successfully achieve this, cultivating while active would be much more beneficial to me than the standard meditation way."
His teeth clenched, and Liu Chen focused his mind, his spirit, his will. Step by step, he began to forcibly guide the Qi through his inner pathways. Pain surged immediately. His insides twisted and his organs ruptured. A metallic taste filled his mouth as blood trickled past his lips.
Yet he did not stop.
Three-fourths through the cycle, the muscles inside his legs faltered. His body collapsed to the ground, twitching from the strain. But the energy cycle did not break. Somehow, through either sheer will—or perhaps divine favor—it remained intact.
Now crawling, Liu Chen pressed forward, blood staining his lips, his eyes bloodshot from the backlash. He moved like a wounded beast that refused to die, dragging his body across sacred ground while the heavens watched in silence.
Then—
A final surge. The Qi completed its revolution and returned to his lower dantian with explosive force.
His entire body quaked. His organs still screamed in pain. But then...it smoothly flowed.
The energy within his body no longer needed to be forced—it moved on its own, as if recognizing the validity of this new path.
Liu Chen lay there for a moment, staring at the sky. Then a slow, wild grin formed on his bloodstained face. His fingers dug into the earth, and he began to laugh—first softly, then louder, until his voice echoed across the mountains like a mad demon's proclamation.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
His voice boomed with joy, disbelief, and pride.
He had done the unthinkable, the unprecedented!
He had broken tradition and rewritten a truth. He could now cultivate while walking, while moving… even while in the heat of battle! And this breakthrough—it was his alone.
Even if no one else in the world would ever understand, he did. At that moment, Liu Chen took another step away from mediocrity… and toward destiny.
The path of cultivation was endless—but today, Liu Chen had carved his own into the mountain.
Yet no sooner had Liu Chen's ecstatic laughter faded into the wind, another grim truth revealed itself.
His body was crumbling.
Though he had achieved the unthinkable—cultivating while in motion—he had also forced Primal Qi through obstructed meridians, ruptured half his internal organs, and bled enough to drown a mortal. Cultivation could accelerate the body's natural healing factor, yes, but to mend shattered insides and torn musculature… that required something more.
A Grand Healing technique.
Which Liu Chen did not possess.
He coughed violently, blood splattering across the stone. His breathing was ragged, and every heartbeat thudded like thunder through his skull. His vision blurred as pain surged anew through his body.
"Dammit… I really overreached." He roughly spat out.
Clutching his ribs, Liu Chen dragged himself across the ground, fingernails breaking against gravel and dried blood smearing behind him. Before him stood a solemn statue, weathered by time yet radiating boundless mercy—a granite carving of Amitabha, the Celestial Buddha.
With great effort, Liu Chen collapsed beneath it and forced himself into the lotus position once more.
But the moment his Qi stirred, he screamed.
A violent backlash erupted within him as another wave of agony tore through his insides. A fountain of blood erupted from his lips, dyeing his robe crimson.
"Sht…!"*
He bit down on his lip until it bled, trying to suppress the pain. His thoughts became chaotic.
'Why must all of this happen while Master is in closed-door cultivation?!'
A moment passed. Then another. Slowly, Liu Chen's mind began to clear. Panic turned to calculation.
'What would Master do in this situation…?'
A flicker of memory passed through him. His master's serene form casting the Merciful Ark of Salvation, healing with green divine light that nourished body and soul. It was a sacred technique, a powerful Buddhist art requiring both immense spiritual cultivation and specific mantras.
"And I unfortunately don't have that privilege." He solemnly said.
He then closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and forced himself to think.
'But… perhaps I can imitate it. Not replicate the technique—but mimic its essence. Draw in vitality… if only a little. It might stabilize my body.'
With trembling limbs, Liu Chen raised all six of his arms and began forming intricate mudras, combining both Buddhist and Daoist hand-seals. His fingers blurred through hundreds of ancient seals, hands twisting in unison like blooming lotus petals.
Nothing.
He tried again to cast symbols that would help mend his wounds. Still nothing.
His breathing grew shallow and His vision darkened. But still, he did not give up.
And then—like a spark in the darkness—his mind recalled an old scripture, half-forgotten but now burning bright:
"All things carry the Breath of Life. In the wheel of Samsara, none are higher or lower—all are equal in the cycle of rebirth."
His master had often recited this while meditating beneath the Bodhi tree. It was also the reason Liu Chen had been forbidden from eating meat, save for fish on special cheat days. It was the belief that all life, even in its smallest form, was sacred.
But now... he had no choice.
His survival depended on this heresy.
"Forgive me, Master… Amitabha… all sentient beings..."
With his six arms pressed against the earth, Liu Chen channeled his Qi downward. A faint ripple spread from his palms into the soil, and an eerie silence followed.
Suddenly, the plants in the surrounding field began to wither.
Their stems bent and the leaves turned brittle. Their vibrant green faded into a lifeless gray.
From their bodies, thin threads of emerald vitality floated upward—like gentle streams of smoke—and spiraled into Liu Chen's body. It felt like drinking spring water after a thousand days in the desert. Warmth rushed through his bones and his eyes even took on a slight emerald hue. His shattered organs began to reknit. Torn muscles mended. His heartbeat, once erratic, now slowed and stabilized.
"It… worked?"
The life-force of the plants was drawn into him in full. Around him, the once-lush field was now a graveyard of desiccated husks.
The power worked—and yet… it felt wrong.
The healing was real, but so was the cost.
He had tapped into a power few dared touch— the same path mimicking what was often practiced by demonic cultivators.
Liu Chen sat in silence, watching as his wounds continued to close. Yet his brows furrowed.
'Should I make this A secret technique…? No. I cannot dare walk this path again.'
Despite the success, his heart ached. He had stolen life to preserve his own. Though unintended, it was a transgression he could not ignore. If his master were to learn of this…
He sighed deeply and whispered under his breath, "I'll pay this sin back one day."
Fatigue crept over him like a silent tide. His consciousness began to fray at the edges. He fought to stay awake, but his body—exhausted by cultivation, wounded by backlash, and now flooded with borrowed vitality—could take no more.
He collapsed.
As he lay beneath the solemn gaze of the Celestial Buddha, the last traces of green energy continued to swirl into his body, knitting flesh and sinew with unnatural speed.
The field was dead.
But Liu Chen was alive.
He had defied tradition.
He had rewritten cultivation methods.
He had came up with a way that stole life to preserve his own.
And for all of this, only one word remained to describe him.
Genius. He was a true Genius.