Li Yuan had not yet opened his eyes.
Silence surrounded him.No wind.No rustling leaves.Not even the beat of a heart—as if the world itself had paused to listen.
Within the darkness of his inner space,understandings began to rise, one by one.
Water flowed slowly from the edge of his thoughts,filling the valleys within him.It was motion without sound,form without form.In his inner world, water was no longer merely an element—but a way to understand change.He had once learned that water does not resist,does not force,yet never stops flowing.
Then came Stillness,like a clear sky above the water.Unmoving, yet sheltering.Soundless, yet covering.In that stillness,he felt the most elusive strength—power without desire.
Absence arrived without a sound.It was a shadow unseen,a presence that demanded no attention.Li Yuan understood it as the empty space from which all things could grow.For in absence, everything becomes possible.
Fear appeared as a vague figure.Not frightening—but full of compassion.He no longer ran from it.He looked at it,accepted its presence.Fear was part of the world,not an enemy.And through this understanding,fear took shape—becoming mist that formed a mountain within his soul.
Enveloping came with new awareness.It was no longer just protection—but a bridge between separation and union.By wrapping his understandings,he shielded others from the resonance of his Daojing,and protected his own essence from spilling out.Enveloping had entered the realm of Ganjing,and had become the very skin of his entire Zhenjing.
Li Yuan sat in silence.
Each understanding no longer stood apart.He felt they all came from a single place—himself.
Enlightenment is not about discovering something new.It is about returning.
Returning to the source.Returning to the beginning.Returning inward.
Day by day in meditationequated to years in the outer world.In his inner time, ten years had passed—yet only a day outside.But he did not accelerate anything.He did not chase higher levels.He did not pursue strength.
He simply sat,gazing into his inner sky,letting his understandings take root—slowly.
"Daojing is my path. I follow no one," he whispered within.
Understanding cannot be forced.It only growswhen the soil within is calm enough to cradle its seeds.
In that space—the one he had named Zhenjing,his inner world—water flowed through soul-rivers,stillness became a lake,absence became silent space,fear turned into mist and mountain,and enveloping became the protective sky.
He did not create this world through imagination.He realized—these understandings had created themselves within him.
Time shifted.Slowly,Li Yuan opened his eyes.
He saw the cave where he had meditated,lit by the gentle glow of the phosphor stone.But now,its light felt different—as if it no longer came from the outside,but from within him.
His steps were light.His breath, silent.He stood.
And then…he smiled.
"I understand now," he murmured.
He didn't feel enlightened,like the tales of wandering sages.Nor did he feel powerful.But one thing was certain—he felt right.Not because the world said so,but because he had made peace with himself.
Returning Home
The journey back to Ziran Village felt like following a river's current.He didn't rush—but he didn't pause either.Each step was weightless,and time seemed to follow the rhythm of his breath.
When he arrived,the villagers did not cheer.They simply looked at him,bowed their heads,and smiled.
Because they knew:Li Yuan had returned—not as one who left and came back,but as one who had found the meaning of returning itself.
He did not move back into his old home.He built a small hut beside the long-abandoned library,its roof half-collapsed.
He named it:
"Root of the Soul."
The library was no longer what it used to be.It wasn't filled with ancient teachings or cultivation manuals.Instead—it held blank sheets of paper.Unwritten pages.
On the wall hung only three characters:
Silence. Longing. Understanding.
Teaching Without Being a Teacher
Children began to visit.Not because they were told to—but because they were curious.
They brought no pens,no ink,only wonder.
Li Yuan never made them copy scriptures.He would give them one sentence—then fall silent.
"What is the meaning of a character that cannot be written?"
The children were confused.But that was the beginning.From confusion, curiosity grew.
He taught them to write their names—but not with characters.He began with breath.
"Write only after you can hear yourself breathing."
He didn't teach with words.He taught with silence.
His Father's Trace
One night,Li Yuan stood beneath the great treewhere he had buried his father long ago.
The night sky was silent.The wind barely moved.
He looked up,and remembered his father's last words:
"Li means endurance. Yuan means origin.Be someone strong like a root, and deep like a source."
Li Yuan smiled.
He didn't feel loss.Because loss is another form of love.
Love that remains,even when the body has gone.Love that becomes the voice within silence.
A Legacy Without a Name
He did not wish to become a legend.He did not want to leave behind a name.
He only wished to create empty space—where others could grow.
And from that space,Ziran bloomed—not as a grand village,but as a root that took hold in the hearts of people.
People came.They did not ask about cultivation.They asked about characters they could not yet pronounce.
Words like:Silence,Loss,Peace,and Forgiveness.
Li Yuan gave no answers.
He only invited them to sit.To be still.And to let their hearts answer for themselves.
Li Yuan never finished understanding.
But perhaps…that was the point.
Because in an understanding that never ends,life becomes more than just answers—it becomes a path.
And for Li Yuan,that path is called:
Daojing.