Master, you mentioned that I would encounter a calamity of bloodshed upon descending the mountain, but... but that calamity has already passed..."
Feeling the immense pull from the depths of the sea of consciousness, Fang Yi was on the verge of tears. At present, he possessed only the cultivation of refining essence into qi. Previously, he had struggled to probe the middle layers of the sea of consciousness, yet now he found himself abruptly drawn into its deeper realms, or perhaps even its very depths, leaving him with a sense of impending doom.
The force of attraction, however, was beyond Fang Yi's control. In an instant, his spiritual energy was pulled into the depths of the sea of consciousness, leaving him uncertain whether he had entered the deep layer or the bottom layer.
The existence of spiritual energy has remained an enigma throughout history, akin to the nature of human thought; without spiritual energy, one is but a lifeless shell.
As Fang Yi's spiritual energy was drawn into the sea of consciousness, his breath, which had been steady while seated in meditation, suddenly ceased, rendering him motionless like a statue, his chest no longer rising and falling.
"Hmm? What's peculiar about Xiao Fang's state of meditation?" Sun Lianda, who had been closely observing Fang Yi, furrowed his brow. Although he could not discern the changes in Fang Yi, he sensed a notable difference from before.
Unfamiliar with the intricacies of Daoist qi refinement, Sun Lianda assumed this was typical, unaware that Fang Yi was facing a grave crisis, akin to the perilous situations described in martial arts novels, where one could suffer severe injury or even death from losing control during cultivation.
"Great and Boundless Celestial Venerable, I have only been cultivating for a little over a decade; surely, I am not destined for ascension just yet?" As Fang Yi was pulled into the sea of consciousness, his thoughts swirled chaotically. He was certain that even his master, the old Daoist, might struggle to access the depths of the sea of consciousness.
"Is this the bottom layer of the sea of consciousness?"
Fang Yi felt a wave of dizziness as the force of attraction abruptly vanished. He found himself suspended above a space shrouded in white mist, akin to the sensation of his soul leaving his body when struck by a vehicle, gazing down at the boundless expanse of thick white fog below.
For reasons unknown, as he observed the mist below, an intense sense of danger surged within him. He was almost certain that if his spiritual energy were to make contact with the white fog, it would be utterly devoured, leaving no trace behind.
"Three Pure Ancestors, Great and Boundless Celestial Venerable, how am I to return from here?"
At that moment, Fang Yi felt akin to an ant on a hot stove, terrified that a moment's lapse in concentration would result in a fall, leading not merely to a loss of flesh but to the annihilation of his very soul. Even if there were a Pure Land for rebirth, he doubted he would be fortunate enough to partake in it.
"Weren't we told that entering the deep layers of the sea of consciousness would grant immense power? Why... why do I feel nothing at all?" As he gazed into the thick mist below, Fang Yi's mind raced with confusion.
"I must not succumb to panic; my master taught me that the more one is faced with adversity, the more one must remain calm..." He steeled himself, attempting to enter a meditative state.
"Embracing the spirit and holding onto the oneness, can one be separated? Cultivating qi to achieve softness, can one become like an infant?" The verses from the Daoist scriptures, which he had memorized since childhood, flowed naturally from his lips, reciting phrases that cultivated spiritual energy in this moment of uncertainty.
"Eh? What... what is happening?"
As Fang Yi recited the scriptures, he suddenly noticed that the thick mist beneath his spiritual energy began to churn. A nearly imperceptible wisp of white fog seeped into his consciousness.
Seeing this, Fang Yi was taken aback, but his thoughts felt as if they were half-constricted, rendering him unable to move. He could only watch in horror as the delicate strands of white mist infiltrated his consciousness.
"Hmm? There's no danger at all..."
Upon contact with the white fog, Fang Yi, who had been anxious, discovered that his spiritual energy was not consumed. On the contrary, he felt an immense, pure force—devoid of any consciousness—merging with his own.
Simultaneously, a vivid image appeared in Fang Yi's mind: in front of a dilapidated Daoist temple, a swaddled infant was crying loudly. Moments later, a tall figure appeared beside the child and picked him up.
"Master? Is... is that you?" As he beheld this scene, Fang Yi's spiritual energy surged with emotion; he had never anticipated witnessing the moment his master had taken him in.
When the old Daoist removed the talisman from around Fang Yi's neck, he was even more certain that this was a memory of his master adopting him, inexplicably replaying in his mind.
Not only that, but Fang Yi also witnessed the old Daoist preparing a pot of millet porridge after bringing him into the temple, carefully feeding him, only for the infant to embarrassingly urinate all over the old man.
Watching his master, who wore a wry smile as he hurriedly changed the swaddling, Fang Yi felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and longing. He recalled how his master had raised him from such a tender age, through every trial and tribulation.
The scenes continued to unfold; as time passed, Fang Yi grew. He observed himself as a two- or three-year-old, obedient and attentive to his master's words. However, after meeting the chubby boy and his friends around the age of three or four, he began to exhibit more mischievous behavior.
By five, Fang Yi had dared to capture a venomous snake, removing its fangs, and surreptitiously placing the toothless serpent beneath his master's meditation mat, or dropping a frog into the basin where his master brushed his teeth. Each day was filled with playful antics.
Although none of these pranks succeeded in front of his master, Fang Yi found endless amusement in them until he reached the age of seven or eight, when his master finally allowed him to venture into the forest alone.
Scenes from Fang Yi's life flashed before his inner vision; everything he had personally experienced was vividly recalled, with no detail overlooked. Memories long forgotten resurfaced in his mind.
"What... what is happening here?" As time passed and he witnessed his growth, these memories felt more profound, yet he found himself helplessly reliving them.
"Wait, why are there no memories from before my master took me in?"
A sudden thought struck Fang Yi. Although he had never hoped to find his parents, he felt a pang of regret at the missed opportunity. The memories replaying in his mind began only with his master's embrace at the temple.
"Is it possible that only those moments I witnessed firsthand would be retained in memory?" As the pages of his past continued to turn before him, a flicker of understanding arose within him, yet confusion remained.
"Great and Boundless Celestial Venerable, this... this defies logic..." Observing the images did not hinder Fang Yi's contemplation. If consciousness had a face, he would surely be smiling wryly at this moment.
Fang Yi had perused a popular science book brought up the mountain by the chubby boy, which stated that humans have almost no memories from before the age of three, retaining only a few deeply ingrained fragments that might leave a faint impression in adulthood.
Yet, Fang Yi believed that regardless of how vivid his memories were, he could not have developed consciousness merely days after birth. The scenes before him seemed to rewind time, replaying his life over the past decade.
Even the incident of his soul leaving his body after being struck by the vehicle was depicted in those images. However, just at that moment, Fang Yi felt the wisp of white fog fully merge with his spiritual energy. The images abruptly halted, and darkness enveloped him as his consciousness was thrust out from the depths of the sea of consciousness.
"I... I'm not dead? And... I haven't lost my mind?" In an instant, Fang Yi perceived the existence of his body, igniting a wave of exhilaration within him. Had he been trapped in the depths of the sea of consciousness, it would have been a fate worse than death.
"Is my body unharmed?"
Regaining control over himself, Fang Yi hastily circulated his inner qi throughout his body. This time, he dared not traverse the great circuit through the sea of consciousness; instead, he opted for a smaller circuit, merely to assess his condition.
"Fortunately, the soreness in my body has improved somewhat, but it will likely take another two days for a complete recovery..."
After completing a small circuit, Fang Yi sighed in relief. Yet, deep within, he felt a twinge of disappointment. According to Daoist texts, those who could enter the depths of the sea of consciousness were said to gain significant abilities.
Regardless of how he circulated his inner qi, Fang Yi found no discernible changes in his body. Even the previously obstructed acupoints had not opened significantly, and the infusion of white mist into his spiritual energy had not resulted in any notable enhancement.
In other words, Fang Yi's journey into the depths of the sea of consciousness had yielded little more than a scare, akin to a fruitless expedition. However, if there were any gains, it was that he had experienced a free cinematic replay of his life over the past decade.
What Fang Yi did not realize was that there had indeed been changes. Once his spiritual energy returned to his body, the white mist that had merged with it silently seeped into him, though his current level of cultivation rendered him unable to perceive it.
"Should I take another stroll near the sea of consciousness, perhaps I can be drawn in once more?" A fleeting thought crossed Fang Yi's mind, a moment of foolishness born from forgetting the pain after healing. He refocused his awareness near the sea of consciousness.
"Can't go in?" Having prepared himself for another pull, Fang Yi was disappointed to find that the force of attraction was absent. Relieved, he realized he could now conduct his great circuit normally.
"Fang Yi, Fang Yi, wake up, you rascal..." Just as Fang Yi positioned his inner qi in his dantian and centered his consciousness, he heard the chubby boy's voice calling out to him. His eyelids fluttered before he opened his eyes.
"Hmm? What's happening? Chubby, why are you pulling the doctor?" As Fang Yi blinked awake, he saw the chubby boy gripping the doctor's arm, persistently calling his name.
"You've been sitting for over ten hours, and no matter how much I called, you wouldn't wake. The doctor wants to take you for an examination, but I wouldn't let him touch you..."
Having grown up alongside Fang Yi, the chubby boy understood that during Daoist qi refinement, one must not be disturbed. Thus, despite the doctor's insistence that Fang Yi's breathing was weak and required urgent care, the chubby boy stood firm at the bedside, refusing to let anyone move him.
"Over ten hours have passed?"
Fang Yi was startled by the chubby boy's words. Although he had traversed the memories of his life in his mind, it felt as though only a fleeting moment had passed. He had not anticipated that he had been meditating for over ten hours.
Youth, are you alright? Please take a look at the light..." The attending physician had changed, now a man in his fifties, holding a flashlight and preparing to examine Fang Yi's pupils.
"Doctor Wu, I'm fine..." Upon hearing the doctor's voice, Fang Yi, shaking off his shock, nodded and read aloud the surname on the name tag pinned to the doctor's white coat to demonstrate his clarity.
"Well, you seem to be alright. You all can disperse now. And, by the way, smoking is prohibited in the ward..." As Doctor Wu spoke, Fang Yi realized that the ward was not occupied solely by the chubby boy and the doctor; besides Sun Lao's son, Sun Chao, the boss Man was also present.
Perhaps unable to resist his craving, Man Jun had lit a cigarette at the doorway. However, the smell of smoke was quite pungent amidst the sterile scent of disinfectant in the ward. He had barely taken a puff before the doctor caught him.
"Hey, hey, extinguish it, extinguish it..." Man Jun exclaimed, yet he still took a deep drag before reluctantly snuffing out the cigarette, prompting Doctor Wu to shake his head disapprovingly.
"Fang Yi, is it? What kind of practice were you engaged in earlier? I could hardly detect your breathing..."
Ignoring the chubby boy's eager, ingratiating smile, Doctor Wu focused his attention on Fang Yi. Having studied under an old traditional Chinese medicine practitioner in his youth, he possessed some knowledge of medical principles. Fortunately, it was his shift today; had it been a younger doctor, they might have rushed to take the faint-breathing Qin Feng for emergency treatment.
"I wasn't practicing anything special..." A hint of confusion flickered in Fang Yi's eyes as he replied, "I was merely meditating. Oh, right, I was practicing yoga..."
Fang Yi recognized that in this enlightened age, one must adhere to scientific explanations, so he chose to mention a term he had previously heard rather than delve into the complexities of Daoist cultivation.
Interestingly, Fang Yi had indeed learned some yoga from a radio broadcast years ago, but the poses had posed little challenge for him; he could effortlessly perform even the most difficult yoga positions.
"Oh, so it was yoga. No wonder your breathing was so faint..."
Upon hearing Fang Yi's response, Doctor Wu nodded. In recent years, yoga had gained immense popularity in the country, not only featuring a yoga master teaching poses on television by the seaside but also being discussed on the radio.
Just a few days prior, Doctor Wu had come across a news article stating that a seventy-year-old yoga master from India had buried himself underground for a full eight days and emerged completely unscathed.
"Fang Yi, remember to practice yoga under guidance in the future, alright? It can be quite dangerous otherwise..."
Seeing Fang Yi alert and articulate, Doctor Wu imparted a few words of caution before glancing at the others in the ward, saying, "Except for the two who are staying to care for the patient, everyone else should leave now. Visiting hours have ended..."
According to hospital regulations, only one caregiver or family member could remain after ten o'clock at night. Had Fang Yi not been in an unresponsive state, Doctor Wu would have already asked everyone to leave.
"Doctor Wu, we'll be leaving soon. Just a few more words before we go..." Sun Chao, with a smile, slipped a pack of Zhonghua cigarettes into Doctor Wu's coat pocket, whispering, "It's late, Doctor Wu; perhaps a smoke would help you stay alert..."
"Alright, but no more than half an hour. You all need to leave..." As the saying goes, one does not strike a smiling face; Doctor Wu accepted the gesture without hesitation and stepped out of the ward to return to the duty room.
"Xiao Fang, are you alright? You truly scared me..." After Doctor Wu departed, Sun Lianda said apologetically, "I noticed something was off with you, which is why I called the doctor. Xiao Fang, this hasn't affected your practice, has it?"
In fact, when Sun Chao had brought dinner earlier, Sun Lianda had prevented his son from waking Fang Yi. However, after nearly ten hours of Fang Yi maintaining his previous position, Sun Lianda could no longer contain his anxiety and, disregarding the chubby boy and San Pao's objections, called the doctor.
"Yes, Xiao Fang, you haven't gone too deep into your practice, have you?" Sun Chao looked at Fang Yi with concern. Although he was not young, he was an avid martial arts enthusiast, having been captivated by Hong Kong and Taiwan martial arts novels since the 1970s, and his imagination was quite vivid.
"Going too deep? You might be closer to the truth than you think..." Fang Yi chuckled inwardly, raising his head to say, "Sun Lao, Sun Ge, I'm fine. This yoga is merely a means to calm the mind; even if you had awakened me, it wouldn't have mattered..."
In truth, with Fang Yi's current level of cultivation, he had yet to reach the state where one remains unperturbed in the face of a collapsing mountain. Even if he entered a deep state of meditation, excessive noise could still rouse him.
However, Fang Yi's situation was somewhat unique; while traversing the sea of consciousness, he was largely oblivious to external disturbances. Had his spiritual energy not instinctively retreated, his physical body would have been akin to a soulless shell, devoid of any thought.
"That's a relief, that's a relief..." Sun Lao repeatedly expressed, a glimmer of relief crossing his face.
"Xiao Fang, here, I brought you some turtle soup that's still warm. You should drink some..."
Seeing that Fang Yi was unharmed, Sun Chao produced a thermos filled with soup. The two turtles had sufficient weight, and Sun Chao had brought four thermoses in total, as the chubby boy and San Pao had already eaten.
"Thank you, Sun Ge..." For some reason, Fang Yi felt an intense hunger at that moment. Without hesitation, he took the thermos and checked the soup's temperature before gulping it down.
"Is there ginseng in this soup? It seems to be quite aged..."
After consuming over a pound of turtle soup in one go, Fang Yi felt as if every cell in his body were sighing with relief. The warmth from the soup rapidly permeated his being, and he sensed the soreness in his body diminish significantly.
As a practitioner of martial arts, Fang Yi understood the ancient wisdom that those who toil with words are often impoverished, while those who train in martial arts are wealthy in strength. Due to their physical training, martial artists require far more sustenance than the average person, and their digestive capabilities are not to be compared with those of ordinary individuals.
For instance, while an average person might sustain themselves with a bowl of rice for lunch until dinner, a martial artist might consume five bowls of rice at lunch and feel hungry again within just two hours. Thus, for the impoverished in ancient times seeking to practice martial arts, the challenge was far greater than that of passing examinations for scholars.
"Sun Ge, is this food also reserved for me?" As he glanced at the now-cold braised turtle meat and two other dishes on the bedside table, Fang Yi inquired, while his stomach compelled him to bring a plate of food closer.
"It is for you, but it's already cold. Should I go downstairs to heat it up for you?" Sun Chao offered. Due to Fang Yi's situation, they had hardly eaten, and Sun Chao had brought enough food for five or six people, with at least three portions still remaining.
"Sun Ge, eating something cold is perfect for such a hot day..."
As Fang Yi spoke, he had already stuffed several pieces of turtle meat into his mouth, chewing vigorously until the once-tough bones were reduced to mush, mixed with the meat and swallowed.
In a mere three minutes, Fang Yi had devoured all the dishes and most of the rice, and upon finishing the last grain, he cast a reluctant glance at the empty plates.
"Wow, Fang Yi, when did you become such a glutton?"
Almost everyone was left dumbfounded by Fang Yi's voracious appetite. The chubby boy, quick to respond, exclaimed, "This is it; with such a massive appetite, two thousand yuan won't even cover your monthly food expenses! No way, Boss Man, this must be a consequence of Fang Yi's accident; you'll need to compensate him further..."
"Chubby, that's not fair..."
Man Jun, who had stealthily lit another cigarette, found himself amused by the chubby boy's remark, pointing at him and saying, "What a rare statement! You think getting into an accident makes one eat more? If it were me, I'd gladly take that trade. Don't you know that being able to eat is a blessing?"
"Alright, chubby, this isn't Boss Man's fault..." Fang Yi waved his hand dismissively. He understood his own circumstances; if there were any aftereffects, they stemmed from his spiritual energy entering the sea of consciousness, not from Boss Man.
Seeing Man Jun's presence, Fang Yi assumed he was worried about potential repercussions and said, "Boss Man, don't fret; we won't extort you. I'll stay for one more day, and I should be discharged by the day after tomorrow at the latest..."
"That's fine, Xiao Fang. You can stay a few more days; you need not worry about the medical expenses..."
Upon hearing Fang Yi's words, Man Jun realized he had misunderstood and replied, "I came today to discuss that fan painting with Sun Lao. Since you were unresponsive, everyone lost the mood for the transaction, but now that you're awake, it's all good..."
In the afternoon, Man Jun had shown the Tang Bohu fan painting to one of his old clients, who only offered forty-five thousand yuan. Naturally, Man Jun refused to sell, as he intended to leverage his connection with Sun Lianda, who had offered a significantly higher price.
Business is not about personal favors, and Man Jun was quite adept at navigating relationships. While he did not sell the painting to that client, he treated them to a meal. Consequently, he arrived at the hospital a bit late, as Sun Lao and the others were preoccupied with concerns over Fang Yi's condition, and thus the fan transaction had yet to occur.
"I had almost forgotten about that..."
Upon hearing Man Jun's words, Sun Lao turned to him and said, "I'll take that fan painting. Leave me your account details; if you trust me, I can transfer the money to you tomorrow. If not, we can arrange for the exchange tomorrow instead..."
"Sun Lao, you need not worry. Keeping it with you is safer than in a vault..."
Man Jun had intended to strengthen his bond with Sun Lianda through the sale of the fan painting. Not only would Sun Lianda pay him promptly, but Man Jun would also relish the thought of delaying payment for ten or even twenty years.
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