Chương 60: Chapter 7 — Video Tutorial

It was over in under a minute. The thing died the same way it had before. Lin Che watched from behind her, and tried to track the engagement with his sensitivity rather than his eyes. Opposing currents of Qi interrupted one another, competing for dominance whenever blows were exchanged. The fight was still too fast to discern the precise movements and methodologies of Qi channelling, but he saw the general gist of the fight. Pressure and response.

Shen Yue stood in the empty street afterwards, her breathing slightly elevated. Compared with last time, she seemed a bit more haggard after the fight, and her coat was even slightly torn at the shoulder. She turned and looked at him with the same expression as last time.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"No," he said, voice shaking. She assessed his situation: confused and somewhat panicked, but not injured, before turning away once again.

"We should go home."

They talked in the kitchen. Lin Che had heard the explanation before — that there are sects and cultivators hidden in the world and that she was one of them. This time, however, he was much less passive, and now asked her deeper questions about hidden cultivators.

"How many are there in the city?"

"It's difficult to put a number to it. There aren't many that would pose a threat to us, if that's what you're concerned about."

"Can I become a cultivator?"

"It depends on the circumstances and condition of your body. I can ask my family about it, but most likely yes."

"Are you hiding anything else from me?" She was silent.

"It's okay to have secrets. I just don't want any surprises in case I get attacked again," he clarified.

"Nothing that should affect you," she replied. She looked at him for a moment before she got up and went to the back room. Lin Che promised himself that one day he'd be the one to end a conversation with her.

The following morning, Shen Yue took him to Hu Baolin's pharmacy. The bell rang and Hu Baolin looked up from his ledger and greeted the two upon entry.

"Miss Shen," he said. Then, with a different registry: "And guest."

"My husband," said Shen Yue.

"He needs a breath-opening blend for basic sensitivity training." Hu Baolin looked at Lin Che.

"First time?"

"Yes," said Lin Che.

He hadn't seen her create the brew in many loops, and watched the sequence paying close attention to Shen Yue's movements. Watching her do it was different: much different to the kitchen-scientist approach he had on his attempts. Hers felt more… natural. She moved more clumsily than he did, but adjusted the process using Qi — was it some sort of alchemy technique? The bad-smelling herb went in last. She strained it, reduced it, and set the ceramic cup in front of him.

"All of it," she said.

"Whilst it's still warm." He drank it. The human palette can adapt to things very easily. For example, Lin Che absolutely hated coffee, and now would drink a cup or two a day. Some days he'd drink more coffee than water, despite his tongue's initial bitter reaction to the bean and its lingering aftertaste painting itself against the inner walls of his mouth and nostrils. Even cheap, low-quality coffee tasted, at least somewhat, pleasant to him.

Unfortunately, the process of adapting requires introduction to something new. And in this life, it was his first time drinking this brew. So it was entirely foreign and just as unpleasant as the first time, the second time, and so on and so forth. He set the cup down and breathed out. She told him to close his eyes and to focus on an image whilst controlling his breathing. He thought about the jellyfish — blue-white light with a slow drift. A boneless, unhurried movement of things without mind but with form.

The current came up immediately. It always did with the first swig. To a body that hadn't developed tolerance, but a soul that had withdrawals, it was like providing stimulants: everything was clear and he felt like his eyes weren't even closed at all. Then, it passed in an instant. He opened his eyes. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

The kitchen was as unremarkable as ever, but everything had a slightly blue hue to it for maybe half a second before returning back to normal.

"It's like I can see the air around me," he said.

"Sort of like wisps of smoke dissipating all over." Shen Yue looked at him and placed her cup of tea on the counter.

"What you're describing usually takes months of practice to access consistently." She thought for a moment before opening her mouth again.

"Close your eyes." He closed them.

"Try to feel that sensation once more and tell me what you see." Something moved through the air in front of his face — some sort of pressure change in that gap between his eyes. There was a repeated slow rise and fall.

"A wave," he said.

"A sine wave going left to right." There was no audible response from her, but he felt a shift in Qi. This time, the shape was more angular. It climbed in one direction and then reversed sharply, climbed again, and reversed again in a repeated motion.

"Zigzag," he said. Another pause. When she began the next shape, it was more complex, with arches and curves accented with straight lines. He frowned with his eyes still shut, trying to follow the Qi the way you'd trace a line with a finger.

"It's like a spiral, but uneven. Wider on one side?" A longer pause this time. The next shape took a while, and he could sense her concentration in the way her breathing became slower and more deliberate. There was a mostly-filled circle connecting to an arc with a flat body beneath. A triangular motion just out from the opening in the circle. Within the body, a rounded bulk, there were two small lines, and what he could only interpret as—"A duck." Silence. He opened his eyes.

In front of him, Shen Yue had an expression well past disbelief painted all over her face.

"Y—you're ready to start a technique," she stuttered out. She reached for her phone, which she typically placed on top of the microwave, and tapped a couple of times on the screen. He watched her navigate to something, saw her frown slightly as she tried to recall some sort of password. A couple of failed attempts later, she eventually arrived at whatever she'd been looking for, and turned the screen towards him. On it was a QR code.

"Scan it," she said. He pointed his phone at hers and it opened an unlisted video titled: Liuhe Breathing Method — Foundation Stage (Beginner) — WATCH FULL. The channel had twelve subscribers. It began without introduction. A man sat cross-legged on a high density foam mat floor in what appeared to be a garage-dojo of sorts, the wall behind him containing scrolls of calligraphy and stripped birch.

"The Liuhe method works on six harmonies," the man said.

"Three external, and three internal. You don't need to understand all six today; after comprehending one, the others will follow." Shen Yue leaned over and watched alongside him. The method, as the man explained it, involved drawing Qi in through what he called the root gate in the lower back during exhalation, which he acknowledged was counterintuitive and difficult to do. Sort of like rubbing your belly and tapping your head simultaneously.

"First harmony is breath and intention," the man continued.

"You are not filling your vessel. You are simply manipulating what you already contain, refining it further." The video ran for fourteen minutes. Near the end of it, the man demonstrated the first circulation path, which was a simple loop from the root gate, up through the back, wrap around the throat to claw towards the chest and settle in the lower stomach. He moved his hands slowly in the air as he described it, which helped Lin Che tremendously in understanding the motions. The video ended.

The screen showed a related video's thumbnail: a man in a suit, collar up, with the words PERFECT WINDSOR EVERY TIME in a large, red font, before the autoplay timer hit zero. Lin Che hit the X. He looked up. Shen Yue was still looking at him.

"Well," she said.

"It's time to practice in the living room."

Lin Che sat cross-legged on the floor, and his wife lay on the sofa behind him, propping herself up at a relaxing angle with a stack of pillows, fruit (or, more accurately, plum) bowl beside her and cup of tea on the coffee table in front of her. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the video, exhaling and pulling. He found the sensation from earlier without much effort, having spent multiple lives honing in on that particular feeling.

The Qi was there, like a current running close to the surface — he knew where it was. He reached for it on the exhale the way that the man had shown, trying to draw it up his spine. But nothing moved. He tried again. The Qi was right there, yet the moment he tried to direct it, the whole thing scattered. It was like trying to catch smoke with a fist: he could sense every wisp of it dispersing. He reset, breathed, and tried again. The Qi moved around two inches upward before losing all coherence.

It was frustrating, like knowing exactly where your feet were and still managing to trip over them. Again. It didn't move at all this time. He understood what the problem boiled down to: sensing Qi and moving Qi were not the same skill. He had spent many loops becoming passably fluent in the first, and had apparently confused familiarity with capability. It was one thing to watch someone walk a tightrope, and another thing entirely to stand up on the wire.

He tried a different approach: instead of pulling, he simply tried to exist. He wasn't pulling, but if his Qi moved away from his will, he could attempt to redirect it like a repelling magnet. The Qi moved several inches this time before losing its shape. Marginal progress was still progress. He breathed in and out and tried again. A couple of attempts later, he could hear the shuffling sounds of fabric behind him. A minute later, the sound of someone ticking their nails against a phone screen. He kept going.

The Qi moved further — halfway up his back, before diffusing again. Mentally, his goal had changed from one loop to one "checkpoint". All he wanted to do was direct his Qi over his back and towards his neck. A couple of attempts later, the ticking sound stopped, and he could tell by the change in ambient sound that his wife had probably left the room entirely. He didn't open his eyes to confirm. Eventually, on an attempt he had lost count of, it reached his shoulderblades.

It stopped there, and this time it did not disperse immediately, instead dissolving over the span of a couple of seconds. It held form. Lin Che opened his eyes.