Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilderness Chapter 21: Cultivation

Cliff Cave.

The bamboo box before Yu Ye was now completely empty.

After eating the dried fruits, medicinal herbs, and swallowing two pills, he sat cross-legged, resting his chin on his hand, eyes half-closed. At times he frowned in deep thought, at others he nodded slightly, and sometimes his expression shifted with surprise.

The Sea of Consciousness lies between the brows, deep within the forehead, divided into four layers from inside out. It can contain all of a person's divine sense and memories, vast as the sea, hence the name. Divine sense refers to consciousness endowed with laws, transcending the six senses and perceptions—a higher existence.

All this, as Jiaoying had told him. She said her divine sense traversed from the Qi Sea and Golden Palace straight to the Sea of Consciousness, allowing her to converse with him freely. The Golden Palace, also known as the Scarlet Chamber or Yellow Court, and the Qi Sea—these had complicated, obscure explanations.

Yet Yu Ye wished only to cultivate the Mysterious Yellow Sword Art, but Jiaoying dismissed it with disdain. She cared nothing for the sword arts of ordinary cultivators, knowing only the Seven Killings Sword Qi, which mortals could not practice. As Yu Ye despaired, he heard her say,

“You are not of mortal constitution; naturally you can cultivate sword qi. Do you recall, after swallowing the Jiao Pill, the pain in your abdomen, the tearing of your meridians, the inversion of your vital energy? That was the sign of shedding the old, washing the marrow, and awakening an innate spiritual root. Only, the pill that old man gave you suppressed the power of the Jiao Pill, causing your true qi to disperse. Thus you possess the body of a spiritual root, yet struggle to achieve much. Even if you wished to practice sword qi, you would have nowhere to begin!”

“What old man? That was Uncle Qiu—he saved my life!”

“Yes, yes, I know! My soul was weak at the time; I didn’t know who he was. Listen: to forge sword qi, you must first cultivate a foundational method. Once true qi enters the body, gathering and dispersing at will, practicing sword qi will yield twice the results with half the effort. As for which method to choose, if you’re too dull-witted…”

“I’m not that dull, am I?”

“Hm, dull people always say so. Don’t make trouble—let me think. Ah, the ‘Heavenly Firmament Sutra’ will do. This method is easy to begin with; even if you’re as dumb as an ox, you can manage, heh heh!”

“The ‘Heavenly Firmament Sutra’?”

Yu Ye was still puzzled when he felt a slight sting between his brows. In that instant, symbols appeared before his eyes. When he opened them, they vanished. Closing his eyes again, the symbols faintly returned.

“I’ve transmitted the cultivation method to your Sea of Consciousness. Do you see it?”

“I see it, but… I can’t read it…”

“You can’t read?”

“I know three or five characters.”

Yu Ye answered honestly, somewhat embarrassed.

A teacher had once come to Yu Family Village to teach literacy and arithmetic. Yu Ye had attended for a few days, learning little more than surnames and a few numbers—enough for a mountain child, but far from sufficient to decipher cultivation texts.

Sure enough, Jiaoying wailed in despair, “Heavens! You’re not just as dumb as an ox, you barely recognize any characters. How can you comprehend cultivation manuals or practice the Dao?”

Yu Ye couldn’t help but open his eyes and glance upward. The cave was utterly quiet; no one else knew of Jiaoying’s existence. Still, he felt deeply mortified, his face burning with shame.

Truly humiliating!

He had thought himself skilled—catching fish, trapping birds, climbing trees, swimming, hunting beasts—just common skills for a mountain child, nothing worth boasting about.

But illiteracy meant he couldn’t understand the methods. Cultivation was thus out of reach. No wonder Jiaoying mocked him—he had overestimated himself.

Just as Yu Ye was about to give up, he heard Jiaoying scold, “Since it’s come to this, how can you surrender so easily? Fine, I’ll teach you from the beginning.”

Learning to read and count was no easy task, especially with no brush or ink to begin.

As Yu Ye hesitated, the Sea of Consciousness throbbed again, and countless characters poured in, accompanied by Jiaoying’s word-by-word explanations: “Here’s a primer with my annotations—you must master it within one hour. Next, a treatise on Heaven and Earth, an essay on investigation and calculation, one on medicine, another on Daoist classics. By dawn, you must comprehend them all and make them your own…”

Boom—

It was as if a storm had erupted in Yu Ye’s mind. Tens of thousands of characters battered him like a tempest. Having only just opened his Sea of Consciousness, how could he withstand it? His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed flat on his back.

...

Another morning.

Bang—

The stone door echoed.

Gu Yu carried a bamboo box into the cave.

In the clearing, Yu Ye lay on his back, as if in a deep sleep, muttering incomprehensible words in his sleep.

“Yesterday, Senior Sister Bai Zhi sent me down the mountain to visit my family. I returned this morning and came to check on you,” Gu Yu said, setting down the box. “Wake up—”

Yu Ye seemed to hear the call; his muttering ceased. After a moment, he sat up slowly, his eyes vacant, exhaustion written all over his face.

“What’s wrong?” Gu Yu studied him with concern, “Are you ill? I’ll go inform Senior Sister…”

Suddenly, Yu Ye blinked; his expression returned to normal.

“Goodness, you startled me!” Gu Yu patted his chest, relieved. He picked up the bamboo box from yesterday and said loudly, “I’ll come back later. Senior Sister Bai Zhi said you shouldn’t imitate sword forms on your own. It’s not a grave matter, but it violates the rules. Since you’re sincere about the Dao, I’m allowed to guide you a little. Heh, if you ever join Mysterious Yellow Mountain, don’t forget to thank your senior brother!”

Two days ago, such words would have thrilled Yu Ye, but now he remained unmoved, silently staring at the bamboo box before him.

Inside were seven kinds of medicinal herbs, each with different uses and properties, treasures of nature beneficial to cultivators.

Yet what, truly, was the difference between a Daoist cultivator and an immortal cultivator?

In essence, their paths were the same—the only difference was in their level of attainment.

Another bottle of pills served to strengthen one’s foundation and energy—rare on Mysterious Yellow Mountain, commonplace in immortal sects.

Yu Ye ate the herbs, swallowed a pill, drank a few mouthfuls of spring water, and walked to the cave entrance to gaze below.

On the mountain terrace, several disciples of Mysterious Yellow Mountain practiced sword forms and movement arts. Once mysterious and unfathomable, the Daoist techniques now gradually revealed their patterns to his eyes.

Yu Ye returned, sat cross-legged as before.

The scene in Cliff Cave was unchanged: the mountain stream flowed, the pool rippled, the wind was gentle, the sky vast and high. Yet now, sitting alone, it all felt like a lifetime ago—he was filled with emotion.

He breathed a long sigh, rubbing the center of his brow.

It was hard to fathom—in just ten short hours since yesterday, he had memorized over ten thousand characters, their meanings, and several treatises including the Heavenly Firmament Sutra, along with five or six other classics covering fate, Daoist secrets, and medical arts—an encyclopedic trove. With careful study, he could master them all.

He was no longer an ignorant mountain boy.

He had shed his old self, washed his marrow, and with a little breathing and meditation to cultivate a foundational art, he could step onto the path of immortality and become a true cultivator.

According to Jiaoying, the poison in the Jiao Pill had suppressed his true qi. Even if he mastered cultivation, he could hide his strength from others. In time, once the pill’s poison was resolved, the power of the Jiao Pill would erupt, bringing endless benefits.

He wondered how Jiaoying knew so much, but she would not reveal her origins.

And she remained silent for long stretches, but when she spoke, it nearly killed him.

Imagine—within one day and night, Yu Ye had to learn to read, memorize methods and classics, and his newly opened Sea of Consciousness endured a violent storm, nearly shattering his mind.

Now, as a cultivator, should he not practice breathing and meditation to nourish his spirit and restore his strength?

Methods for such practice were all in the classics.

Yu Ye sat up straight, calming his mind, brought his hands together and gently rested them before his abdomen—the seal of both hands as prescribed in the method. He placed his tongue against the roof of his mouth, closed his eyes, gathered energy at his dantian, and focused his mind on unity...

Afternoon.

Gu Yu returned.

Seeing the empty bamboo box, he nodded in satisfaction. Ensuring the herbs were consumed on time was his duty as the caretaker of Cliff Cave.

The days ahead would be easier.

Gu Yu walked over, drew a sheathed longsword from his back. He set the scabbard on the stone pedestal at the cave entrance, then, holding the sword in one hand, gave it a sharp shake. The blade quivered and hummed. Smiling with pride, he said, “Didn’t you want to see me demonstrate swordsmanship? Today I’ll open your eyes!”

No response.

“Hm?” Gu Yu sounded surprised.

He returned to the cave, but Yu Ye ignored him, still sitting in meditation, lost in his own world.

“Practicing breathing and meditation?” Gu Yu observed, shaking his head repeatedly—

“If you don’t know the formulas or the secrets of breathing, sitting like that is pointless!”

Yu Ye exhaled deeply and opened his eyes. Composing himself, he said apologetically, “My first attempt—I nearly fell asleep!”

“You do know how to put on a show, heh!” Gu Yu grinned knowingly, then gestured, “What do you think of my Azure Steel Sword?”

The sword in his hand was nearly four feet long, its surface gleaming with a blueish luster—clearly extraordinary.

Yu Ye nodded, “Mm, a fine sword.”

“Haha, pretending to know!” Gu Yu teased, boasting, “This is a sword reserved for Daoist disciples. Money can’t buy it. Even a hundred hunting knives wouldn’t suffice for a trade!”

Yu Ye smiled as well.

His understanding of cultivation now far exceeded Gu Yu’s imagination.

The Azure Steel Sword was indeed valuable, but it was merely a magical implement—a weapon inscribed with talismanic techniques, with varying grades and qualities. Beyond magical implements were spirit tools that could be wielded in flight, and treasures that could be stored within the body.

As for the little sword he’d lost before—could it be a spirit tool or a treasure...

“Come, today I’ll demonstrate the Mysterious Yellow Sword Art!”

Gu Yu held his sword, walked to the open space, flicked up his robe, and struck a crisp opening stance.

“There are seven forms to the sword art. Once I begin, you’ll be dazzled—how much you comprehend depends on your own fortune!”

Yu Ye nodded, stepping back a few paces.

Gu Yu wasted no time—after the opening stance, he moved through the primal elements with sword and footwork, sword light flashing. He was clearly showing off, pausing mid-dance to call out, “First form: Severing Mortal Roots; second: Cutting Sentimental Ties; third: Driving Away Spirits; fourth: Treading the Sea of Woe; fifth: Seizing the True Form; sixth: Crossing Lantai... and the seventh… the seventh…”

The famous sword art of the Daoist sect was indeed remarkable—dazzling to watch.

But as Gu Yu reached the fifth and sixth forms, his movements grew clumsy. By the seventh, he forgot the move entirely, lost his rhythm, and nearly stumbled. Only by grabbing the stone wall did he avoid a fall, still muttering, “The seventh… oh, I remember, the seventh is the Dance of Mysterious Yellow!”

Yu Ye was both dazzled and nervous.

Sheathing his sword, Gu Yu panted, “Did you see? There are seven forms in the Mysterious Yellow Sword Art, each with nine variations—truly profound. I’ve trained for three years and can barely use six forms. As for you…”

He approached Yu Ye, shaking his head and sighing, “Alas, you understand nothing—it’s a waste of words!”