Chapter Thirteen: Frenzied Cultivation

Silvery moonlight streamed through the cracks in the window, scattering delicate fragments of light across the filthy, chaotic room.

Within, a young man sat cross-legged on a chair, bare-chested. His hands interlocked in a strange seal before him, eyes closed, his breathing steady and powerful. His chest rose and fell with rhythmic precision. As his meditation deepened, a faint aura began to emanate from his body, accompanied by wisps of white vapor. The pale currents slowly gathered, ascending and finally being drawn into his body with each breath.

As the energy entered, a healthy flush suddenly bloomed across his handsome, youthful face. Sensing the growing abundance of spiritual power within him, the boy's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile.

Tasting success, he refused to stop. His eyes remained tightly shut, his fingers shifting through a series of increasingly complex, peculiar hand seals. The movements became faster and faster, maintaining a certain speed for a while before gradually slowing again.

Thus, the night wore on, the hours spent in relentless cultivation, heedless of sleep or food. The moonlight outside grew brighter, and a cool night breeze slipped through doors and windows, bringing a fleeting sense of relief.

Concluding the final hand seal, the boy's long lashes fluttered as he finally opened his jet-black eyes. A keen light flashed within them—though if one looked closely, a faint thread of gold could be glimpsed amidst the darkness.

He exhaled a mouthful of stale air, his spirit reinvigorated. Rolling his chair forward, he returned to his computer, stretching lazily as he muttered to himself, “This art of sealing is truly a difficult technique to master. I’ve worked so hard, yet I can’t even smoothly form the most basic entry-level seal…”

Ever since Lin Hai had taught him the secrets, Lin Fan had holed up in Lin Hai’s bedroom for over half a month. During this time, Lin Fan rarely left the room, living the life of a reclusive, top-tier shut-in. As a result, Lin Hai hadn’t had a single peaceful night’s sleep.

Lin Fan treated the place like a bar, glued to the computer every day, eyes fixed intently on the screen as he diligently studied the peerless tome, The Compendium of Creation. When the theory became overwhelming, he would meditate, practicing the basic forms of sealing. He ate, drank, and relieved himself as needed, rarely leaving his spot. If not for Lin Hai’s timely intervention, the bedroom would have become a latrine.

Lin Fan’s dedication pleased Lin Hai, who no longer asked him to help with the business, leaving him free to focus on his training. Yet, despite his satisfaction, Lin Hai also felt a tinge of regret—why hadn’t he gotten Lin Fan his own computer? His nightly entertainment time had been drastically cut short. Acne erupted across his face, and he’d become little more than a servant—bringing tea and water was tolerable, but what truly exasperated him was Lin Fan’s incessant questioning. Even worse, sometimes Lin Fan would ambush him in his sleep, treating him as a rival and launching sneak attacks.

After half a month, Lin Hai’s body bore the marks—bruises appeared out of nowhere, he’d lost weight, and he seemed to have aged several years from the ordeal.

The monotony of cultivation paled in comparison to the excitement of running schemes around town with Lin Hai. But for someone like Lin Fan—amnesiac and desperate to rediscover himself—such discomfort was a trivial matter.

...

After failing yet again to form a seal, Lin Fan squatted on his chair, scrolling the mouse. Line after line of text flowed across the screen, transforming into vivid scenes in his mind.

Lin Hai, idle, stood on the bedroom balcony, high-powered binoculars in hand, eagerly surveying the neighborhood women’s “live performances,” thoroughly entertained.

“Huh?” Lin Fan muttered, “Why is this spell different from what was described earlier?... Uncle?” Turning around, he saw Lin Hai sprawled across the bed, fast asleep.

“What the hell! Wasn’t he just watching with such enthusiasm? How did he fall asleep so quickly?”

He glanced at the wall clock—it was already two in the morning. “Damn! Everyone’s lights are off and asleep. No wonder that old pervert is out of energy.”

Lin Fan went to the bed and nudged Lin Hai, who was lying spread-eagled, binoculars still around his neck and snoring loudly, bubbles forming at his nostrils.

Lin Hai rolled over, oblivious, clinging to his pillow, muttering as he snored, “Hoo... hoo... hoo...”

Unable to resolve his doubts, Lin Fan felt uncomfortable. Glancing at the deeply asleep Lin Hai, he thought it a good chance to test the acupoint art he’d been researching. Clenching his right hand, he extended his middle finger and jabbed forcefully at the Yongquan point on Lin Hai’s foot—an acupoint linked to the kidneys.

A blood-curdling scream erupted as Lin Hai shot up from the bed like a startled hog, flailing his limbs. He hovered in the air for a moment before crashing back down.

A barrage of curses followed, fired at Lin Fan like bullets: “You little bastard! You goddamn brat! Are you trying to betray and murder your master? Have you gone mad? Are you forcing me to cleanse the household in the name of justice? Damn it, I challenge you to a duel—!”

Lin Hai was so enraged that his power leaked out inadvertently, each word rumbling with a low, thunderous resonance.

Lin Fan’s spiritual strength was meager to begin with. As the energy waves crashed over him, he could only hold his breath and clamp his hands over his ears, barely resisting the assault.

But the next outburst pierced all his defenses, striking his soul. His heart trembled, his blood seemed to flow backward, his hands and feet turned cold, and he collapsed, curled up on the floor.

“Ahhh! You two bastards next door—shut up right now! Do you want to die? What time do you think it is?! Aaaah!” Lin Hai’s tirade was abruptly silenced by Lin Qi’s thunderous roar from the neighboring room.

In an instant, the room filled with a faint red glow, the shout stirring the fire elements in the air—testament to its sheer power.

Lin Hai, poised to attack Lin Fan, was doused as if with cold water, his ears still buzzing. He promptly squatted on the bed, digging at his ears desperately.

“Ugh... ah... hey...”

It was as though they’d both survived a sonic tidal wave. After sitting dazed for a while, they gradually regained their senses. Lin Hai, voice lowered, threatened, “Just you wait—once that little demon next door falls asleep, I’ll open all seven hundred and twenty of your acupoints for you, give you a real lesson in the art of acupoints... But first, I need to take a piss.”

With that, he dashed out.

Lin Fan shuddered, scrambling to his feet to explain, “Uncle, Uncle... it was just a joke! You’re not taking it seriously, are you...?”

Seeing that Lin Hai ignored him, Lin Fan realized his questions would go unanswered tonight. Still, he’d learned something—Lin Hai’s kidneys really weren’t in great shape.

He shut down the computer and fled the crime scene.

Back in his room, Lin Fan locked the door, barricaded it with a cabinet, and finally collapsed on his bed, his mind replaying and organizing the myriad strange pieces of information he’d gleaned from The Compendium of Creation in recent days.

He pushed himself to exhaustion each day, not just to grow stronger and recover his lost memories, but also to tire himself enough to fall asleep immediately, escaping the nightly torments of his nightmares.

Yet, sleep did not come easy. On guard against Lin Hai’s retaliation, Lin Fan woke before dawn and slipped out of the house.

He wandered through several streets toward the banks of the Hun River in the western suburbs, entering the Riverside Forest Park where he and Lin Hai often trained in the mornings.

The park sprawled between the gentle slopes of two small hills beside the Hun River, a place of unique natural beauty.

Its sheer size was its first impression—divided by the river and occupying vast swathes on either side. The park was open to all save for a few construction zones. The eastern bank was fully developed, with exercise equipment, public facilities, and elegant landscaping, while the western side remained largely wild and untouched, with dense forests and lovely scenery—a favorite haunt for local residents.

Lin Fan walked along the riverside path, following the narrow promenade deeper into the park.

On one side, the verdant river lay still as jade, a dark green ribbon glowing quietly. Old men fished at the water’s edge, casting their lines and waiting in silence; young couples sat on benches, sharing whispered confidences...

On the other, lush groves, low-hanging branches, flower buds ready to open, dew-drenched lawns—a landscape awakening, stretching and unfurling fresh green vitality.

Nearby, elderly men practiced tai chi on open ground while older women sat on benches gossiping, and young mothers, not to be outdone, pushed strollers and herded children, chattering in small groups.

Immersed in the park, Lin Fan always felt wrapped in a cocoon of contentment.

He found his way to a pavilion and sat down, determined to practice the elusive hand seals once more.

Cross-legged on a stone bench, eyes closed, breathing calm, he formed the seals with his hands, blending seamlessly into the tranquil surroundings.

“Zi, Chou, Yin, Mao, Chen, Si, Wu, Wei, Shen, You, Xu, Hai...” With each word, his hands shifted fluidly through the seals depicted in The Compendium of Creation.

Again and again, tirelessly, he drilled the twelve basic forms. Time passed; his focus deepened. Guided by intention and rhythm, his inner energy resonated, body, mantra, and seal becoming one. He entered a strange, wondrous state. His hands moved ever faster, blurring into afterimages—had Lin Hai been there, his jaw would have dropped.

The elements around him stirred in response. Wisps of blue energy, scented with earth, gathered from all directions, converging on the pavilion and, with Lin Fan’s breath, pouring into his body.

His cheeks flushed from the surging energy, a bashful glow lighting up his delicate, stubborn face.

“Mao—Wei—Chen!” At his mental command, his body resonated with the words, his hands forming seals, his heart, mantra, and body fused into one. In that instant, he merged with the environment, energy exploding outward.

He extended his index and ring fingers, drawing them across his eyes as he whispered, “Soul Search—Reveal!”

An invisible wave rippled out from him, sweeping the area. This was the first, most basic sealing technique Lin Fan had mastered.

Sealing arts were categorized from weakest to strongest: basic arts, secret arts, incantations, forbidden arts, and sacred arts. The higher the level, the more complex the hand seals and chants—some so intricate they’d long been lost. Sacred arts were barely mentioned in The Compendium of Creation, with no useful information to be found. Even forbidden arts were only vaguely explained, lacking detail or instruction.

Lin Fan stood abruptly, scanning the bustling park—fishermen still fished, lovers still conversed, and the tai chi crowd had dispersed.

“Did it fail? Where are the ghosts? Not a single trace in this whole park?” As he puzzled over it, a wailing cry drew his attention.

“Help! Somebody help me! I can’t go on—what am I to do...” The sobbing voice came from the direction of the children’s playground.

People hurried toward the commotion, but Lin Fan, not one for crowds, assumed it was another trivial squabble between parents and their unruly children. He turned to leave.

Just then, a boy of about ten, chasing a younger child of four or five, barreled straight into him.

Lin Fan hadn’t even noticed them approach.

The two boys rushed into the pavilion, tugging at his clothes as they darted around him.

Resigned, Lin Fan let them be—he knew better than to provoke children or the elderly.

After roughhousing for a while, the boys tripped Lin Fan, giggling as they ran off.

Shaking his head with a wry smile, Lin Fan thought nothing of it. But the thought of facing Lin Hai at home filled him with dread.

He left the park, grabbed a quick breakfast at a roadside stall, and, uneasy, started the journey home.