Li Wei's time in the village with Old Chen had grounded him, but the call of the scroll's mysteries tugged at his soul like a restless tide. The old farmer's lessons about the earth's rhythms had sparked something in him—a sense that cultivation wasn't just about ethereal qi but also about connecting with the world around him. Yet, the scroll promised more: techniques to transcend the mortal body, to harness powers that could defy nature itself. Back in his clearing on Mount Tai, with his altar rebuilt and his resolve hardened, Li Wei delved deeper into the scroll, seeking the next step on his path to immortality.
The mountain air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth as Li Wei unrolled the scroll under the flickering light of his campfire. His fingers, now calloused from days of labor in Chen's fields, traced the faded characters, searching for a breakthrough. Most of the text he'd studied focused on breathing exercises and meditation, but a hidden section, tucked between cryptic diagrams of meridians, caught his eye. The characters were smaller, written in a hurried script, as if the author had hesitated to commit them to bamboo. "The Forbidden Fasting Technique," it read, "to cleanse the mortal vessel and awaken the spirit's true potential. Caution: only the resolute may endure."
Li Wei's heart raced. A forbidden technique! In the cultivation novels he'd read, such methods were often dangerous, reserved for those daring enough to risk their lives for power. The scroll described a ritual of fasting—not merely abstaining from food, but aligning the body's energies with the cosmos through intense meditation and specific chants. The promise was tantalizing: a purified body, qi flowing freely, and a step closer to Foundation Establishment. The warnings, though vague, spoke of "inner turmoil" and "trials of the spirit." Li Wei, emboldened by his recent victories over the storm and his inner demon, felt ready to face any challenge.
He prepared meticulously, treating the ritual as a sacred undertaking. He cleared his altar of debris, arranging the remaining "Spirit Root Herbs" in a circle around it, their silvery leaves glinting like tiny stars. The scroll instructed him to begin at midnight, under the moon's fullest light, so he waited, meditating to calm his nerves. His stomach, already accustomed to sparse meals, growled in protest, but he ignored it. Hunger was a mortal weakness, and he was determined to transcend it.
As the moon rose, bathing the clearing in a pale glow, Li Wei began. He sat cross-legged before the altar, the scroll open beside him, and chanted the prescribed incantations—low, resonant tones that vibrated in his chest. The words were strange, a blend of ancient Chinese and what felt like primal sounds, as if calling to forces older than the mountain itself. He focused on his dantian, visualizing his qi as a radiant orb, purifying his body with each breath. The scroll directed him to forgo food and water for three days, relying solely on the "essence of heaven and earth" to sustain him.
The first day was bearable. Hunger was a familiar companion, and the chants kept his mind occupied. He meditated for hours, moving only to adjust his posture or rekindle the fire. The warmth in his dantian flickered, sometimes growing strong enough to make his fingers tingle, other times fading to a faint whisper. He scribbled in his notebook: "Day 1: Qi steady, body weak but enduring. Moonlight feels alive." The forest around him seemed to hum, the rustle of leaves blending with his chants, as if the mountain itself was listening.
By the second day, weakness set in. His head throbbed, and his limbs felt heavy, as if filled with lead. The scroll had warned of "visions to test the spirit," and Li Wei began to see them—faint shapes dancing at the edge of his vision, like wisps of smoke forming human figures. He blinked, and they vanished, but the sensation of being watched grew stronger. Was this the qi manifesting, or was his mind unraveling? He pushed on, chanting louder, his voice hoarse but unwavering. That night, under a cloudless sky, he dreamed of flying through the clouds, his body weightless, the stars within reach. He awoke with a start, convinced he'd glimpsed the immortal realm.
The third day was agony. His mouth was dry as sand, his vision swimming with dark spots. The warmth in his dantian was gone, replaced by a hollow ache. The visions grew vivid—shadowy figures circling his altar, whispering in voices he couldn't understand. The scroll had mentioned "trials of the spirit," but this felt like madness. He clutched the scroll, its bamboo slats digging into his palms, and forced himself to chant, though his words slurred into nonsense. "I am on the path," he rasped, willing the qi to return.
Then, as the sun set on the third day, he collapsed. His vision darkened, and he found himself in a dreamlike void, not unlike the one where he'd faced his inner demon. But this time, there was no sneering doppelgänger—only a blinding light, pulsing like a heartbeat. He felt weightless, as if his body had dissolved, and for a moment, he soared, the mountain far below, the sky infinite above. Was this ascension? The breakthrough he'd sought?
He came to with a gasp, sprawled in the dirt, the moon high overhead. His body screamed for water, for food, but his mind was alight with clarity. The warmth in his dantian had returned, stronger than ever, a steady pulse that felt like a promise. He crawled to the stream, drinking greedily, and scribbled in his notebook with trembling hands: "Forbidden Fasting completed. Visions of flight. Qi purified. Breakthrough achieved?" He didn't know if it was true cultivation or delirium, but he chose to believe. The scroll had warned of danger, and he had survived.
Days later, a local hiker found him, half-conscious and muttering about immortality. The paramedics who arrived attributed his state to severe dehydration and malnutrition, but Li Wei, revived in a hospital bed, smiled weakly. They didn't understand. He had faced the forbidden technique and emerged stronger. The path to immortality was perilous, but he was one step closer. The scroll, safely tucked away, whispered of greater trials to come, and Li Wei was ready to meet them.