Chapter Fifteen: The Origin of Vital Energy, All Methods Arise from Qi

Given everyone’s enthusiasm for martial arts, Ancestor Luo began teaching them the techniques he knew. However, martial skill is not something one masters in a day—it requires tireless diligence, day and night, until the muscles remember each move, then countless bouts of real combat before true proficiency is attained.

Moreover, this was the Primordial Era, and martial arts were but a minor path—unless one could develop martial disciplines of the highest order. Yet even Ancestor Luo wished for such arts, but did not possess them.

Thanks to recent hunting successes, the cave was draped with strips of meat, the “icebox” was filled with provisions, and the storeroom was heaped with fruits and vegetables. Thus, for the next three days, there was no need to venture out for hunting, allowing Ancestor Luo to devote himself to teaching martial arts.

Heh heh, ha ha.

Everyone punched and kicked at the air, then sparred with one another for a time—thus, half a day would slip by.

When the first day of training ended, Ancestor Luo’s consciousness sank once more into the world within the gourd, only to discover a remarkable change.

A year had passed. Mu, gifted beyond compare in the Art of Heaven and Earth, had already mastered his limbs and bones, reaching the level of the Five Viscera Sutra.

His swift progress was, of course, due to the martial art Ancestor Luo had crafted specifically for him; without it, his innate ability would never have sufficed to circulate his vital energy in a single lifetime.

Having mastered the Five Viscera Sutra, Mu’s confidence soared, and he set out to seek revenge upon the chief of his tribe.

One deep night—

The cycle of day and night within the gourd world was also under Ancestor Luo’s control, strictly adhering to twenty-four hours. That night, Mu slipped into the chief’s dwelling and, with a stolen bronze sword, slit his throat.

Yes, it was just that simple—no twists, no turns.

That night, the youth avenged his great wrong and, from then on, wandered freely, seeking the Way of Heaven.

Mu traveled to the “Sacred Mountain,” living among birds and beasts, with the mountain winds as his companions. He continued his search for the “Martial Deity,” but that figure had vanished without a trace. He gazed across the vast world, but could no longer catch a glimpse of his mentor.

Yet the golden body of the Martial Deity stirred up a storm across the realm; the tribal alliance soon crumbled.

The main reason was that two of the Five Supremes actually gained insight into martial arts from the golden body, breaking through to the Great Circulation stage.

After observing, Ancestor Luo realized they hadn’t grasped a specific martial art, but rather awakened to the profound use of the mind and spirit.

As the most exceptional of their era, the Five Supremes, upon witnessing Ancestor Luo’s remains, each experienced such enlightenment and began to pursue breakthroughs in this direction. Yet only two succeeded—one, Supreme of Martial Arts; the other, the Plum Blossom Sword Supreme.

Upon attaining this crucial understanding, both underwent earth-shattering physical transformations.

They acquired innate divine abilities.

However, these innate abilities were incomplete; due to their limited capacities, the power of their abilities amounted to only a thousandth of that found among the primordial humans.

Still, this was more than enough to make them unrivaled in the gourd world.

They then began to create new martial arts, combining these abilities, and thus gave birth to a new discipline: the Divine Martial Way of Heaven!

When Ancestor Luo learned of this, he could only feel helpless.

Once again, the path had diverged.

It seemed the plan to purge the small-bodied humans should be advanced.

What Ancestor Luo desired was not their awakening of innate divine abilities. Although their insight into the spirit was indeed what he sought, once awakened, these people wished only to pursue that path, cultivating martial arts through their innate gifts.

Still, there was hope for the small-bodied humans. Mu, having received his teachings, might be able to forge a new path.

If Mu succeeded, perhaps Ancestor Luo could emulate the Noah’s Ark tale from his previous life.

Time flowed on, and three days slipped quietly away.

The “Cave Dwellers,” with their physical prowess and natural gifts, were able to master martial arts swiftly, and through sparring, discover the techniques best suited to them, deepening their practice and advancing their skills.

Yet Ancestor Luo felt this was not enough. Addressing the settlement’s three hundred or so people, he declared, “We face beasts taller and stronger than us, with fangs and claws. Our martial arts are insufficient—we need techniques capable of defeating them.”

Thus, Ancestor Luo led the “Cave Dwellers” into the mountains to capture wild beasts. Whether captured alive or killed, all were brought back. The living were studied for their hunting habits, behaviors, and postures; the dead were dissected, their bones and muscles examined, their weak points sought—ideally to find a way to kill them with a single blow or at least cripple them instantly.

This endeavor, Ancestor Luo named: the Ultimate Lifeform Research Project!

Of course, the name was just a gimmick, not to be taken too seriously.

In this world, the true ultimate lifeform would be… Grandmaster Hongjun?

Who knows if Grandmaster Hongjun has yet merged with the Dao? Or if such a figure even exists in this world?

All this remains unknown.

For now, the martial arts he was teaching were merely to ensure that his companions could defend themselves barehanded in emergencies, lest their courage go to waste.

Their most important task remained the cultivation of Qi.

Fist and weapon skills, in the Primordial Era, were but minor arts.

Ancestor Luo felt he still suffered for lack of connections.

Had he been born at the foot of Mount Buzhou, perhaps things would have been different.

But he did not let this trouble him. After all, he had been reborn and transmigrated, become an ancestor of humanity, possessed a thousand-year lifespan, and now glimpsed the path of cultivation—the future could only improve.

Comforted by this thought, Ancestor Luo resumed his Qi training.

Late at night, in the silence, he glanced at the cured meat hanging by the entrance, calmed his mind, and began to visualize his five viscera, then his limbs and bones, then his flesh and blood, until, in his mind’s eye, a human form took shape.

This was a method Ancestor Luo had devised on a whim for strengthening the spirit, gradually refining it into its present form.

He called it the Visualization of the Body Spirit.

The ultimate goal was to condense the scattered spirit into a nascent soul indistinguishable from his physical form.

Only then could the nascent soul roam beyond the body, commanding the arts of the world with ease.

Of course, the nascent soul was only Ancestor Luo’s own conjecture, inspired by memories of his past life. Whether it would have the intended effect remained unknown—he was, after all, exploring step by step.

For now, strengthening the spirit proved remarkably effective. After an hour of visualization, feeling his mind brimming with energy, Ancestor Luo split his attention between the world within the gourd and the absorption of spiritual energy from the world outside, transforming it into wisps of Qi which he merged into the Qi Root within his body.

He named the first strand of Qi he produced in cultivation the Qi Root—all subsequent Qi would be refined from this source.

Thus, he added a line to his Qi cultivation manual: The Qi Root as the source, the myriad arts arise from Qi.