Chapter 87: The Assessment, Breaking Through the Acupoints

Inside the humble abode, the two took their seats.

At Ji Ming’s insistence, Wei Wulan refrained from making any further jokes about seducing the master’s disciples and instead spoke earnestly about cultivation.

Though Wei Wulan moved shakily on his single toad’s foot, in truth he was a genuine practitioner of the second stage of Qi Refinement. In his own words, if not for the setbacks caused by his practice of forbidden arts, he would have long since attempted to break through to Foundation Establishment in the main hall of the True Spirit Sect.

Once talk turned to cultivation, Ji Ming’s interest was piqued. He deliberately steered the conversation toward the subject of reverse cultivation, saying, “I have seen cultivators whose demonic traits manifest outwardly, but most of them simply cannot restrain their beastly natures. Yet you are different. The physical marks of your transformation appear to differ from those of other cultivators.”

The soft glow of candlelight filtered through the lamp cover, casting a warm hue over Wei Wulan’s somber face. He patted his toad’s foot and his expression became a complicated mix of pride and regret.

“Ordinary people’s transformations stem mostly from greed, but for people like us, it comes from excessive greed. For example, when practicing secret arts, progress is typically slow, so many take extra pills, believing they can neutralize their demonic nature, convert spiritual energy, and thus accelerate their cultivation. But in reality, the remnants of that demonic nature accumulate in the body over the years, eventually resulting in a physical transformation.”

Here, Wei Wulan changed the subject. “But one can hardly blame them. In the first stage of Qi Cultivation, after forming the essence flower, you have to open the fifty-two acupoints along the Ren and Du meridians. Relying solely on ordinary spirit grain and medicinal meals, letting the spleen and stomach process and refine them, the essence produced is so meager that it would take a lifetime to open those fifty-two points.”

“I’ve heard of fasting pills,” Ji Ming mused. “Take one, and there’s no waste, the energy is directly absorbed. Then there are the pearls produced by old clams—rich in spiritual energy, their demonic nature balanced, harmless to the body, and easily expelled through cultivation.”

“Little Golden Boy!” Wei Wulan sighed deeply. “Such methods are beyond the reach of most.”

“That’s true.”

“But I heard that if you live in the Fire Ruins Cavern, each month you can receive a bottle of fasting pills and three clam pearls.” Wei Wulan seemed to recall this and mentioned it.

Ji Ming’s eyes flashed. “Brother Wei, I suddenly feel that learning more about the master’s three disciples might not be such a bad thing after all.”

Wei Wulan, thinking Ji Ming was joking with him, laughed and said, “If you’re truly interested, just pay attention to the master’s newly accepted third disciple.”

Ji Ming’s words did contain a hint of humor.

First, he was still new to cultivation with much to learn, hardly in a position to be distracted by such matters. Second, having just formed his essence flower, he was at a critical stage where abstaining from lust was essential to prevent the waste of vital energy. Moreover, he was still in his youth in this world—what was Wei Wulan thinking, encouraging such mischief? Did the master’s disciple perhaps have some peculiar preferences?

Ji Ming steered the conversation back. “You spoke of excessive greed. What drives it?”

Wei Wulan replied, “That relates to the higher-level arts practiced within secret techniques. With ordinary arts, self-restraint is enough to suppress demonic tendencies and achieve success naturally.”

“And with the extraordinary?”

“Then one must forge a new path—such as reverse cultivation, where one deliberately experiences the terror of becoming a beast, extracting the great medicine from the very depths of one’s soul.”

Ji Ming pondered, then asked, “In the True Spirit Sect’s examination for initiates, how many possess beastly transformations, and how many can reverse-cultivate such transformations?”

Wei Wulan was genuinely puzzled by the question, not understanding why Ji Ming was so unpredictable.

He tried to guess Ji Ming’s intent. The examination for initiates was the first step for mortals entering the immortal sects, focusing on reciting scriptures and interpreting talismanic diagrams. Over time, these exams had become mere formalities, as most candidates were already offspring of cultivators or noble families, well-versed in the content.

The scriptures tested included “The Three Primes’ Disaster-Dispelling Confession,” “The Middle Heaven Canon,” and “The Celestial Qi Annotation,” among others. The talisman diagrams were mostly about the Minor Circulation Diagram.

“At present, the examinations are indeed superficial, and very few candidates exhibit beastly transformations. The true emergence of such practitioners comes in the second round, where the examinees must interpret the Major Circulation Refinement Talisman, marking the true beginning of cultivation.”

Ji Ming lowered his head in thought. Had he guessed wrong? Perhaps the old Daoist’s method of concealment was not reverse cultivation after all.

His discussions with Wei Wulan lasted late into the night and proved fruitful. Over the following weeks, Ji Ming’s life settled into a regular pattern. He studied Daoist arts with Old Yuan, read the scriptures, occasionally discussed the Dao with Wei Wulan in the Feibai Pavilion, and attended the master’s lectures punctually on the twelfth day of each month.

One day, during the six Yang hours between midnight and noon, Ji Ming performed the Rising Yang Fire exercise—his energy rose from the dantian, descended to the perineum, then ascended along the spine, passing through two acupoints before faltering.

Six Yang hours—twelve hours in all—yet the little essence he had could not even sustain him through one hour of acupoint opening before being completely depleted.

He recalled in his previous life, just by offering a prayer to the moon, his spiritual energy would be instantly replenished by the Yellow Heaven’s great power. How stingy was this Azure Heaven in comparison!

After completing the Minor Circulation, Ji Ming picked up a Daoist scripture by his side. He leafed through the Disaster-Dispelling Confession—a classic written jointly by the Yellow Court, True Spirit, and Grand Peace sects for mortals to atone for misfortune, its core being the ritual of plea and offering:

‘Write the sinner’s name, record the circumstances of confession. Prepare three copies of the confession: one to be burned as an offering to the underworld to dispel sin; one to be submerged in water, carried to the mountains and rivers to resolve calamities; one to be sent aloft to the constellations, seeking blessings from the celestial authorities.’

After reading for a while, Ji Ming grew sleepy. Were it not for the examination, who would have any interest in such things?

His thoughts, in truth, were somewhat naive. The Disaster-Dispelling Confession was a crucial scripture for maintaining the faith of the masses. Those who mastered it would often write confessions for others, helping them atone and ward off disaster, earning both payment and merit tokens from the Daoist authorities in return.

Cultivators of humble origin often began their careers this way, and with diligence could even make themselves known to the underworld officials and local spirits. As for the celestial authorities, few confessions ever reached them, and thus few ever received heavenly blessings.

Most confessions circulated only through the underworld and the spirits of mountains and rivers, serving to atone for sins and avert calamity.

Suddenly, a small shadow flickered outside the window. Ji Ming, with a swift palm strike, sensed the presence and thought, “It’s Ling Gu.”

He quickly changed his palm’s direction, catching an object tossed in from outside—a pill bottle.

“Fasting pills!” Ji Ming’s eyes widened in surprise. Opening the bottle, he poured out three pills and also found two clam pearls. Smiling, he murmured, “That child…”

Looking again, the small figure had already slipped away.

Ji Ming then took out his remaining thirty-four doses of Feather Powder. Now, with his mastery of the Crane Control technique, aided by the pills and powder, he was eager to see just how many acupoints he could open if he went all out.