The Difficulty of Cultivation

Han Li slowly withdrew the stream of energy flowing through his meridians back into his dantian. This was his seventh full circulation cycle today, and he knew his body had reached its limit. If he attempted another, his meridians would almost certainly rupture again, forcing him to once more taste that agony beyond the threshold of life itself. The very thought of those threads of sinew tearing apart, one by one, sent a shiver of cold sweat down his ordinarily fearless back.

It had been over half a year since Han Li entered the sect. The formal test for Disciples on Probation had concluded more than two months ago.

Only a small portion of the probationary disciples had managed to officially join the inner sect. Most had failed the test and were left to pack their bundles and descend the mountain to become outer disciples.

These failed youths were largely assigned to the Treasure Gathering Hall or the Flying Bird Hall. The more promising among them might receive further training and eventually earn a spot in the better-treated Outer Blade Hall. Of course, the best treatment among the outer halls belonged to the Four Seas Hall, but that hall only recruited established figures from the Jianghu—men with genuine martial skill. For these greenhorn children, it was not even worth dreaming about.

Whenever Han Li recalled the content of the test the other probationary disciples had faced two months ago, his scalp still prickled.

A full lap around the Cai Xia Mountain Range—more than a dozen miles—followed by group sparring in a sparsely populated forest, and finally holding off a certain number of moves under the relentless assault of skilled senior brothers. All of this made Han Li feel an involuntary sense of schadenfreude.

Han Li and Zhang Tie had not participated in those terrifying tests. As Doctor Mo himself had said, their only examination was on the progress of the oral formula he had taught them. But that hurdle was not as easy as Han Li had imagined. Even now, the circumstances of their cultivation remained vivid in his memory.

According to Doctor Mo, the nameless oral formula was divided into several layers, and the two of them had only received the first layer's technique. If they could achieve some success in the first layer within half a year, Doctor Mo would consider them passed and accept them as his formal disciples, granting them the same treatment as other inner disciples of the Seven Mysteries Sect.

Ever since Han Li learned from others about the vast difference in treatment between inner and outer disciples, he had completely abandoned his earlier plan to muddle through the half-year and become an outer disciple so he could return home. For him at that time, compared to being able to draw more silver from the Seven Mysteries Sect and have it sent back to his family, everything else seemed unimportant. He had been poor and afraid for too long at home, and he knew that every extra tael of silver he earned meant a slightly better life for his parents and siblings.

After receiving the formula from Doctor Mo, Han Li shut himself in his room and began cultivating day and night, dedicating every spare moment to the task. Doctor Mo had given them no guidance whatsoever, so Han Li had to grope forward on his own, taking reference from how other boys cultivated the Seven Mysteries Sect's basic internal art, the 'Zheng Yang Jin,' to infer his own practice method.

Following this approach, after three months of arduous cultivation, Han Li was shocked to discover that his progress with this nameless formula was alarmingly slow. With all his effort, he could only produce a faint, cool stream of energy in his body—so weak and elusive that without careful internal observation, he would not even notice it.

This must be the internal true energy the instructors spoke of, Han Li naturally assumed.

But from what he heard from other boys cultivating the Zheng Yang Jin, the true energy they produced was a clearly noticeable, warm stream of heat. The energy he produced was cold, and the effects after circulating it were far inferior.

Other boys, after using their Zheng Yang Jin true energy, could already punch through a bowl-thick sapling with one blow and leap over ten feet into the air. Han Li, after circulating his strange energy, experienced almost no noticeable change. The only difference was that his spirit seemed more vigorous than before, and his appetite had improved compared to when he first came up the mountain. But what use was that? Watching the other boys who had come up with him display their prowess made Han Li feel disheartened.

This discovery nearly made him give up months of effort. He believed his aptitude was too poor, that he could not possibly pass Doctor Mo's examination in the remaining time. He even began planning to go down the mountain.

Then, by chance one day, he learned from Zhang Tie, who was cultivating alongside him, that Zhang Tie had not experienced any change whatsoever since starting the formula—no effect at all, not even a trace of true energy like Han Li had.

This unexpected news reignited some of Han Li's lost confidence. In the remaining days, he resumed his grueling practice.

No—he worked even harder, even more frantically than before.

Han Li now used every quarter-hour for seated meditation. When sleeping at night, he even tried to maintain the cultivation posture, hoping to gain a little extra effect. Of course, this extreme practice lasted only a few days before it collapsed. The reason was simple: without enough sleep, he could not maintain his daytime cultivation efficiency.

What puzzled Han Li was that after teaching them the formula, Doctor Mo seemed to ignore them completely. He never asked about their progress or their problems with cultivation, as if he had entirely forgotten their existence.

Every day, Doctor Mo sat absorbed in studying a book with three black characters on its cover. At first, Han Li and Zhang Tie even thought the doctor had given up healing to study for the imperial examinations. It was only after they learned to read that they recognized the three characters: 'Longevity Classic'—a book about cultivating the body and extending life.

Only then did the two realize that Doctor Mo was not aiming to become a scholar—he wanted to live as long as a river turtle, aging without death, surviving for ten thousand years.