Virtue is not something created by humans. It’s not a set of specific rules. It’s more like nature itself. Like light or water. Move in accordance with nature, and you will be virtuous. The Three Treasures of the Dao are Compassion, Frugality and Humility, though I can tell you for nothing, not many treasure those treasures.
You see a guy with a thousand year old mountain ginseng, you might decide that the most compassionate thing you could do would be to give him a quick death and use it for yourself. Think about how many more people you will help if you live a few extra years, compared to that bum. You would be harming the world by not slitting his throat, stealing his treasures and kicking his body into a ditch.
“Grandpa… I always wondered, what did you do before you were a ghost?” Tian turned the statue over in his hands. The man was very manly. He looked like some of Tian’s brothers in the shower- all chiseled, tight muscle, a wide neck and a sharp jawline. The woman was, well… some of the Senior Sisters were very pretty, but the woman in the statue was having him feel something he couldn’t really put words to.
Not important right now. Anyway. Supreme Virtue Hell Suppressing Body Refining Sutra. Each part of that name is important. This is a sutra you can easily use all the way through the Heavenly Person Realm, and maybe beyond. Supreme Virtue- moving in accordance with the Dao. Hell Suppressing- capable of withstanding evil and unclean things. Remember what I said about oppositional dualities a long while ago? Here it is again. Moving with the dao and against Hell. Then Body Refining Sutra-
“It refines your body?”
Yes, but what that means is interesting. It’s not just about being stronger or impervious or something. It’s about bringing the body into balance.
“Man and woman. Oppositional dualities. I’m not sure I want to be balanced, Grandpa.”
It’s symbolic. A metaphor.
“A lie?”
An illustration. Balanced doesn’t mean a fifty-fifty split. You are male, yang dominant. This will moderate the yang so it doesn’t become something bad instead of something good. Remember- too much of anything is a poison. You need balance. A bit of yin will see you living a lot longer than yang alone would. Literally. Cancer is, among other things, an example of excess yang. You will also be a bit heavier than your body size would suggest. Not fatter, just heavier.
“Seems kind of weird.”
Yang is the source of lightness and airiness, yin is heaviness and solidity. That’s what they believe around here, and it’s worked for hundreds of thousands of years.
Tian had a lot more questions, but he knew this rabbit hole was infinitely deep. He didn’t have time to get into all that. Sooner or later, probably sooner, he would get sent out on a new mission.
Working in the hospital wasn’t stable work, it turned out. A lot of people never made it back for treatment. To Brother Wang’s intense frustration, Tian was told he would still have the occasional combat patrol to go on, fulfilling the role of a battlefield medic.
The fact that he was in no way qualified as a doctor was not seen as a serious problem. He was trained on how to use specialized medical talismans, how to use a variety of healing pastes, ointments and sticking plasters, and issued a small collection of potions and powders with repeated threats about the fate of those who sell medical goods entrusted to their care.
It sounded stupid to Tian, but the logic was impeccable- they didn’t have enough people to send real doctors, and higher level fighters should be focused on fighting. Tian being focused on staying alive and keeping other people alive was just perfect.
They also didn’t have enough people at the hospital, or on the front lines, or running logistics, or running transportation, or crafting. The Mission Hall was slammed with job listings, and mandatory missions seemed to travel like swarms of biting insects. The Elders insisted that the Ancient Crane Monastery and its allies were winning this war. Everyone else chose to believe the evidence of their eyes.
The orthodox sects were losing this war, and badly. They were outnumbered to begin with, and at the higher levels, losses were about even or slightly favoring the heretics. Things were a bit better amongst Earthly Realm level fighters- they were younger and the young heretics had a very shallow foundation compared to Tian’s senior brothers. But “better” isn’t the same as “good.”
Tian had lost too many good brothers already. He wasn’t very close to Poetry Saint Zhu, but when he closed his eyes, he could see the old man’s face. The unwillingness and pain. Then the body slid into the incinerator, and Tian had to run and grab the next corpse.
“I should read some of Senior Brother Zhu’s poems. I don’t think I ever read a poem.”
You did, but you kind of skip over them when they come up in your assigned reading. And you should read his. He recited them from time to time. They are good.
Tian sighed. “Any reason why the writing on this statue gets squiggly when you try to read past the title?” The phrase “twisting like tadpoles” sounded weird, but it was the best analogy he could think of.
Because it's not supposed to be read. This isn’t something you can study then turn into the Quartermasters for a reward. Glad I have been saving up my energy. This is going to cost a bit. Basically, you incorporate the statue into yourself, then run your Vital Energy through the statue. The energy intertwines with the magical text and forms… well… it uses you to do magic on you?
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from NovelFire. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
It is a bit like a prayer wheel. Actually, they don’t use those around here. Ah… It’s like a waterwheel, taking the flow of energy and turning it into useful work. Through the medium of a spiritual recitation of a sort of prayer. Kind of. Look, there is a reason this magical technology was never mainstream.
“Can I cultivate while I am using it?”
Eeeehhhhhhhh… Maybe? Once you are used to it? Theoretically there should be no interference between the two. Grandpa Jun sounded more confident as he continued. Advent of Spring runs pretty constantly when you aren’t in the field, so it should be okay. Might slow your progress some, but it shouldn’t be too bad. You know what? Yes. You can cultivate while using it. Should be fine.
Tian had known Grandpa since the very first of the trash heap days, so the frequent “should” and the always questionable “theoretically” didn’t slip past unnoticed.
“Is it worth it? The extra time cultivating and whatever energy it’s going to cost you?”
Yes. Ten thousand times yes. One hundred percent. Now, let me show you why that heretic didn’t manage to cultivate this thing. Find a spot that is half in light and half in shadow- there, by that rock will do. It will keep you a bit hidden too, if anyone decides to take a walk.
Tian had slipped out of the depot to sort through his loot. No reason for it other than he didn’t like how some of his sectmates were looking at him. Anyone who could kill a Heavenly Person heretic, and who definitely looted a Heavenly Person heretic, would have treasures. And a child in possession of treasures really has no one to blame but themselves if they are robbed.
Alright, put the statue against your forehead. You need to move your vital energy in a very specific pattern through the minor meridians in your head, then pull the statue down into your lower dantian. Don’t freak out, just let it work.
Tian felt Grandpa’s hand on top of his head. A strange pattern formed, almost a vortex shape. He had never seen the like before.
OH YOU MISERABLE COCK- No. No that’s not fair. Those people provide a valuable service and bring joy to every life they touch. THAT VAST SKIDMARK IN THE SKY JUST ROBBED MY ENERGY AGAIN! YOU ABSOLUTE FART GOBLIN! HAM DOCTOR! POLTROON!
“That’s not a word.”
It damn well is! Do you know what that technique is? It’s basically a skill for absorbing specifically this type of legacy. It was never commonly used. People figured out that BOOKS also work for transmitting legacies. Or jade slips with the information etched on it with qi or spirit sense or any one of a hundred other methods that don’t involve unnecessarily complicated magical technology.
“Are you going to vanish again, Grandpa?”
I’m never gone, I’m just not able to talk to you. And no. I still have a few shreds of energy left. Look, just ingest that damned statue already, would you? Tian could tell there were a lot of emotions going on in Grandpa’s voice, but other than anger, he wasn’t sure what they all were. He put the base of the statue on his forehead and ran the art.
The statue sank into his head.
Tian tried to wrap words around what he was feeling, but struggled. The statue was even bigger inside his head than it was outside. It was still solid, but made entirely of energy. The statue moved through his upper dantian, down through the governing meridian to the middle dantian, and after seemingly inspecting his heart, sank down into his lower dantian. Tian had the oddest feeling that the statue felt right at home there.
Ah. Oops. Better get out a spare uniform.
“We are outside of the base, Grandpa, I’m wearing the protective suit.”
Tian felt something brewing in his lower dantian.
Get naked. The earth and fire qi infiltration isn’t going to matter in a minute.
“Grandpa, that’s crazy. I’m not getting naked in the Wasteland!”
Your choice.
Tian paused. There was a certain weight to those two words. “Well, maybe-”
Too late.
Tian felt the statue resonate with the natal qi and immortal qi he had gathered in his lower dantian. They had been silently contributing to his cultivation since he got them. Now, they were pulled into action by the statue.
That which is two is three is five is a multitude which upon the hour and day when the Vermillion Bird of the South covers all eight directions all shall return to ineffable indistinguishable profundity and from that great truth on the hour and day when the Azure Dragon of the East rises and the wheel turns green bamboo shall sway on the hillside and straight pine shall grow upon the Ancient Mystic Mountains but the plum blossom shall rest over the lands of the White Tiger and the Black Turtle and all these things and all the changes of the world shall grace man and woman independent yet inseparable pure only when impure three stars shall the Jade Court set watch and five ministers shall carry the gongs and ten billion ants carry the bronze coffin to the judgement seat of Yan who shall look upon it with regret and beat his chest and the Black and White Impermanences shall howl and prostrate themselves for the one within is their rebuke as the river flows ever down into the sea so too do the lives of mortals return to the mountains and the multitude becomes five which becomes three which becomes two, which is the dao...
Images poured into Tian’s mind. There was, not a sound but a sensation, the feeling of someone chanting a sutra without ever hearing a voice. The words fell into his mind, but he couldn’t fix them there. They passed through him, carrying the sharp images through his mind and his fleshy body. His meridians breathed within him, resonating with the word/thoughts of the sutra, refining him.
When he forged his body with lotuses and adders, he made a Dustless Body. When he forged himself again in the belly of the demonic bird, he nourished his flesh with profound yin, refining and purifying himself as it transformed into profound yang. He believed his body was as free of impurities as a body could reasonably be.
The creator of the Supreme Virtue Hell Suppressing Body Refining Sutra wasn’t interested in what others thought was “reasonable.”
The meridians resonated with the sutra, which itself vibrated with the natal and immortal qi within his lower dantian. Vital energy, the foundation of fleshy strength, was pushed up to the middle dantian, then transformed into qi, and pressed onward into the upper dantian to be transformed into who knows what. Then it returned, back through his meridians, back through his subtly convulsing flesh and organs, to his lower dantian.
Shame there isn’t any way to bathe in the desert.
The convulsing flesh and organs, under the driving power of the sutra, forced out all the hidden impurities in Tian’s body. Straight out, from every orifice and every pore. A stink so violent it seared the nostrils, and a black gunk so vile, it made him want to peel his own skin off and discard it as ruined. All that sensory violence, trapped in his tightly wrapped survival suit.
Bet you wish you had stripped now, huh?