The storm's aftermath left Li Wei's clearing a sodden mess, with his tarp in tatters and his altar stones scattered like the remnants of a forgotten shrine. Yet, as he sat shivering in the predawn chill, wrapped in his damp sleeping bag, a strange euphoria coursed through him. The "tribulation" of the storm had not broken him; it had, he believed, tempered his spirit. The scroll, safely tucked inside his jacket, spoke of such trials as gateways to progress, and the faint warmth pulsing in his dantian seemed to confirm it. But as the day wore on, a new challenge emerged—one not from the heavens, but from within.
Li Wei's body ached from days of meager rations and relentless practice. His hands, blistered from building the altar, stung as he tried to reassemble it under the weak morning sun. Hunger gnawed at him, his supply of foraged berries and the dubious "Spirit Root Herb" barely enough to sustain him. Worse, his mind felt foggy, plagued by a creeping exhaustion that no amount of meditation could dispel. He pushed through, chanting the scroll's incantations and practicing the Celestial Crane Posture, but the warmth in his core flickered erratically, like a flame caught in a gust.
By nightfall, as he sat by a sputtering fire, the doubts he'd buried began to surface. What if the hiker was right? What if this was all a delusion, a desperate escape from a life he couldn't face? The scroll's promises of immortality felt distant, its archaic language more cryptic than ever. He thought of his mother's worried voicemails, his unpaid rent, the job he'd abandoned without a second thought. Had he thrown it all away for a fantasy? The warmth in his dantian, so vivid days ago, now seemed like nothing more than indigestion or wishful thinking.
Exhausted, Li Wei lay down, the scroll clutched to his chest like a talisman against his fears. Sleep came fitfully, and with it, a dream that felt too real to be mere imagination. He found himself in a vast, misty void, the ground beneath him a swirling sea of shadows. Before him stood a figure—himself, but not himself. This other Li Wei was gaunt, his eyes hollow, his face twisted into a sneer that mirrored the hiker's mockery. "Fool," the figure hissed, its voice echoing inside Li Wei's skull. "You chase immortality, but you're just a failure running from reality. Look at you—starving, filthy, alone. This is your truth."
Li Wei's heart pounded as he faced this doppelgänger, his "inner demon" as the scroll had warned. The figure stepped closer, its form shifting to resemble his old boss, a stern man who'd once berated him for a misplaced decimal in a spreadsheet. "You'll never be more than a nobody," it taunted, its voice now a chorus of every doubt Li Wei had ever harbored. "Go back to Beijing. Beg for your job. This path is a lie."
Panic clawed at him, but Li Wei remembered the scroll's teachings: the inner demon was a manifestation of fear, a test to overcome through will and clarity. He closed his eyes—within the dream—and focused on his breathing, just as he had in his meditations. Inhale, hold, exhale. He visualized the warmth in his dantian, weak but present, and willed it to grow. "You're not real," he whispered, his voice trembling but resolute. "I am on the path. I will ascend."
The demon laughed, its form shifting again, this time into a distorted version of his mother, her face etched with disappointment. "You abandoned me for this madness," it said, its words cutting deeper than any blade. But Li Wei held fast, chanting the scroll's incantations in his mind. The warmth in his core surged, a faint glow spreading through his dream-body. He opened his eyes and thrust his hands forward, imagining a burst of qi to banish the demon. The figure wavered, its sneer faltering, and with a final, desperate shout—"I am enough!"—Li Wei felt the void collapse.
He awoke gasping, his body slick with sweat despite the cold. The fire had died to embers, and the forest was silent, save for the distant hoot of an owl. His heart raced, but a strange calm settled over him. The dream had been vivid, terrifying, but he had faced it. The scroll described the inner demon as a barrier to Foundation Establishment, a test of resolve before true cultivation could begin. Had he passed? The warmth in his dantian felt steadier now, a soft pulse that reassured him. He scribbled in his soggy notebook: "Inner demon confronted. Spirit strengthened. Path continues."
Dawn broke, casting a golden glow over the clearing. Li Wei rose, his body weak but his mind clearer. The doubts weren't gone—they lingered like shadows—but he had stared them down and emerged victorious, at least for now. He rebuilt his altar with renewed care, placing each stone deliberately, as if anchoring his resolve to the earth. The scroll, slightly damp but intact, was returned to its place of honor. As he resumed his chants, his voice carried a new strength, echoing through the trees.
The forest seemed to respond, the air humming with an energy he couldn't quite name. Was it qi, or simply the rush of surviving his own fears? Li Wei didn't care. He had faced his inner demon and lived to continue his journey. The path to immortality was fraught with trials, but he was ready for the next. With the scroll as his guide and the mountain as his witness, he would forge ahead, one step closer to the heavens.