Chapter Three: Focusing the Mind and Steadying the Will

As the stick of incense burned to its end, Shen Lian opened his eyes. His gaze was unusually clear—bright and lucid in the dim chamber.

First comes composure, then tranquility, and from tranquility, peace. Though he could not now practice the methods for nourishing and strengthening the soul, there was no hindrance to him employing the concentration and meditation techniques found in the “Natural Mind-Locking and Spirit-Calming True Explanation of the Supreme Purity Spiritual Treasure.” Human thoughts are chaotic, the heart like a capricious monkey, the mind like a runaway horse. If not reined in, one’s spirit is wasted, making it all too easy to act rashly to one’s own detriment.

Only after quieting the tumult within did Shen Lian begin to consider his circumstances. From the memories of his predecessor and scraps of information—villagers’ clothes, their bearing—he could deduce that this world resembled ancient China, albeit without the dynasties familiar to him: no Xia, Shang, Zhou, Qin, Han, or Tang.

As for the secrets of the immortal sects, such things were far beyond the reach of this secluded corner.

Shen Lian rose and lit an oil lamp, the small flame wavering and casting a faint glow over the room. He reached to the base of the right-hand wall, found a loose blue brick, and removed it, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside lay a plain, thread-bound booklet; on its cover were inscribed the words “Natural Mind-Locking and Spirit-Calming True Explanation of the Supreme Purity Spiritual Treasure.”

This was the cultivation manual left behind by his predecessor.

The opening pages depicted a deity, exquisitely rendered—the very god whose image he had used to calm his mind, the focus of the meditation technique that brought him to a state of stillness.

The remaining pages consisted of text and meridian diagrams, describing how to guide the power of the soul—like the legendary inner energy—through the extraordinary meridians, consuming one’s own vitality to strengthen the spirit, ultimately gathering all soul power into the ancestral cavity between the brows.

This technique refined the upper elixir field—the ancient art of spirit refinement. The power of the soul was indeed wondrous and, when sufficiently strengthened, could even leave the body. Yet the physical form remained the foundation of existence.

This manual spoke only of refining the spirit, with no corresponding method to temper the body, resulting in severe internal imbalance. Should he continue to aggrandize his soul, he risked draining his last reserves of energy.

Having experienced the information explosion of the modern era, and possessing the discernment of an adult—as well as some knowledge of medicine—Shen Lian could guess as much. His predecessor, however, had been a mere orphaned youth, naïve enough to believe that a secret manual alone would suffice; hiding away in the mountains for decades would grant him invincibility upon his return.

That was the stuff of novels—reality was far crueler. The saying goes, “A master leads you to the door, cultivation is up to the individual.” Without a skilled teacher, one might enter the wrong path entirely.

Fortunately, this technique cultivated only the soul. Had it been a body-tempering method, any misstep could have left him riddled with hidden injuries, suffering irreversible harm; even Shen Lian would have been helpless.

He had spent this period not just recuperating, but pondering his path to cultivation. Unlike his predecessor, he did not throw himself blindly into practice.

In the end, he realized he needed to understand the true way of cultivation in this world. The best method would be to find a teacher, but one could not choose heedlessly; encountering a malicious person could lead to betrayal, and still one might be expected to show gratitude.

By nature, Shen Lian was cautious—otherwise, he would not have been content running a modest clinic in his former life. Though he no longer absorbed blood and energy to bolster his soul, through meditation he gradually mastered the formidable power within.

A powerful soul brought with it the gift of a prodigious memory. Hundreds, even thousands of words could be memorized at a glance, held with crystal clarity. Anything he saw could later be recalled and replayed in his mind, restoring every detail. Though his body remained frail, his control over it had reached astonishing levels.

He once read a novel in which the protagonist claimed the human body was the primary machine. With such a formidable soul, Shen Lian could execute every intention with flawless precision. His physical strength was limited, but he could utilize every ounce to its fullest, wasting nothing.

If he focused, he could even sense the flow of blood within him, like rivers rushing, a faint roar in his veins.

These advantages gave him some means of self-preservation. Combined with his knowledge of the body, he could, if needed, react with pinpoint accuracy, striking lethally like the martial experts in Gu Long’s novels. Yet, hampered by limited strength and endurance, he could not hope to take on a hundred foes at once.

Compared to the heroes of fiction, his destructive power was meager indeed. Faced with someone who had cultivated iron-clad defenses, he would be in a sorry state unless he struck a vital point. It was like a remarkable child facing a sumo wrestler—wisest to turn and run.

Though Shen Lian had refused to return with Steward Wu, he truly did plan to go back in a few days—after making some preparations and acquiring a measure of self-defense.

For now, he picked up the booklet and, using the oil lamp’s flame, set it alight. The golden blaze illuminated the dark room until all that remained was a heap of ash.

He squatted and brushed through the ashes—nothing else was hidden within. It made sense; if the manual had been exceptionally valuable, his predecessor’s father would not have recorded it on ordinary paper.

Perhaps, in the true immortal sects, this “Natural Mind-Locking and Spirit-Calming True Explanation” was merely an introductory primer.

As for other possible hidden secrets within the soul-cultivating technique, Shen Lian had tested every method he could think of—even those described in the novels he had read. In the end, he proved there was nothing more than the verse itself.

He was not despondent; after all, he counted himself lucky. Among the countless transmigrators, so many ended up as animals, or as women—at least he was still a man. His fortune was better than many predecessors.

He burned the manual because he remembered it perfectly, and in this world, though he was related to the Shen family by blood, he was spiritually unbound. He had no villain’s habit of carrying secret manuals everywhere, nor did he intend to leave it behind for future generations to discover.

Letting others know your cultivation method was never wise; better to burn it.

He was not one to keep it as a memento—what if he wasn’t the protagonist but the villain, and one day the hero used this very manual to cultivate a rival soul, only to slap him in the face?

Shen Lian had no taste for such irony.

Though this was a legacy from his predecessor’s body, Shen Lian had no intention of keeping it for a future reunion with his “father.”