Cultivation Fever

Now that I had seen father"s raging aura, I knew a burette just wouldn"t cut it. Instead, I wanted to form a large tank, with a ring of outlets at the bottom.

This time I didn"t force my soul into a new shape too quickly. I pictured a gentle hand, smoothing over the rough facets of the sphere.

To my surprise, a golden wire frame hand formed out of my qi and acted according to my will. I hadn"t seen this before. Had opening more channels to my eyes let me see it?

I proceeded with caution, only making a move when qi spilled over the edge of my soul. Despite its crystalline look, the surface of my soul was soft and easy to mould.

I smoothed over five seams, then stopped. I removed my concentration and there was a pinging sound.

I felt b.u.t.terflies in my stomach, remembering the last time I heard that sound. My soul vibrated, and my heart shook with it.

After a few seconds, the ringing stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief and took a look. The changes had stuck. Notably, the level of qi had gone down.

Apparently, each change to the shape of my soul required qi in steps. First, I had to use my qi to make a change. Then, I needed more to stabilise the new structure.

I realised that father was probably trying to stabilise my soul back then. But his qi wasn"t compatible with mine, and all it did was make me sick.

Still it seemed strange. How did father know he had to stabilise my soul? Was he aware of this technique?

Part of me was angry at the book for not explaining this process better. But at least I learned some lessons from my mistakes.

I needed more qi to continue, so I formed a needle and punctured a hole near the bottom of my soul. Seam by seam, I worked my way around the sphere.

Now, all that was left was a puddle of qi at the bottom of a beautifully smooth sphere. The night was still young, so I performed some light meditation to bolster my qi recovery.

I had finished exploring all the new channels in my eyes and arms, so I ventured to my lungs. Hours pa.s.sed by as I travelled through a small section. I didn"t expect them to be so intricate.

My qi had recovered, so I went to start shaping again. I was about to start to extrude the sphere into a cylinder, when I had a thought. Why should I bother?

A sphere is more efficient at storage than a cylinder. A cylinder was just easier to make when my soul was a disc. In a weird way, this whole ordeal had cut out some unnecessary steps.

I spent the rest of the night forming valves. I varied them in size to control the follow of qi and placed them in a ring just above the base.

Hopefully, this meant I would never run out of qi while practising, as there was always a tiny reserve at the bottom.

When the valves were all finished, I had one final step left. Sealing the container.

Up until now, my source of qi was the steady stream that trickled into my soul. The second page explained that this was the natural qi created by my body.

This trickle of qi could be improved by body cultivation techniques. I had touched on this with my light meditation. But the Soul Becoming World technique taught a different way.

In a sealed s.p.a.ce, the qi would multiply, as if trying to burst its container. The more qi in your soul, the more you could generate.

Of course, this technique had obvious drawbacks. Using the stored qi would drain your soul, hindering your qi generation. But the potential growth was limitless.

I gently drew out the top layer of the sphere, making sure I had enough qi to fuel the process. After an hour of repet.i.tion, I finally sealed it shut.

I lay back in my cot, satisfied with my progress. Rays of light streaked through my window, and I knew that morning had arrived, but I was tired from my cultivation.

Mother brought me out to the bench and tried to teach me some more language. I couldn"t focus and kept dozing off.

She didn"t want to pressure me when I was obviously tired, so she brought me to father"s study.

His study was back to how I remembered it. A sense of satisfaction filled me when I saw him writing at his desk, as if nothing had ever changed.

Mother lay me down on the small bed, and I pretended to nap. Instead, I did some light meditation. I wasn"t mentally exhausted, so I could at least manage that.

It had taken months to pa.s.s what I thought at first was a small conceptual barrier.

I began to appreciate how much help Sirius had given me with the first page. Finding your soul was probably as challenging as forming it was, but I had been given a head start.

Now I could approach the latter half of the second page. This was what gave it the name "Soul Expansion."

It was a delicate, repet.i.tive technique which grew the soul. I had to allow the qi inside my soul to propagate until it filled to the brim.

When it filled, it would keep creating more qi, stretching the container. If I wasn"t careful, this could cause my soul to shatter.

Instead, I had to siphon off a small amount of qi and apply it to the outer layer of my soul. This would thicken it and allow it to expand more.

If I made the layer too thick, it would expand too slowly. If I made the layer too thin, it would expand too quickly, and my soul might burst.

For now, it seemed safer to apply a thick layer and monitor the growth. I drained off some my qi and imagined that I was applying coats of paint.

I marvelled at how a paintbrush formed out of delicate strands of qi at a single thought. Perhaps it was because I was so familiar with brushes.

I had done a fair bit of painting in the schooldays of my past life. I was incredibly motivated back then, in part because of my amazing teacher.

He had a wonderful way with words, able to fill you with confidence with a simple appraisal of your piece. When I left school, I no longer felt his support, and my pa.s.sion faded into nothing.

Leaving that ability by the side of the road had fuelled my misery and discontent with the world.

"Maybe I could give it another shot," I thought to myself.

The simple act of painting qi onto my soul was relaxing. A sense of fulfilment grew with each layer. More qi was required to dry the "paint", but I had about half the tank left to spare.

Before I knew it, I had painted five coats. My soul had doubled in thickness, and I decided to leave it there.

I brought myself back to reality. I had finished cultivating for now, and just had to let my soul grow. I had some of the day left but… I deserved a break.