There was a change in the village with no name. In the past, the villagers lived from hand to mouth. Hunters wouldn’t hunt more than required that the butcher could afford. Farmers were too lazy to truly maximise their crop yield, vendors had too few resources to work with and the chieftain was responsible for making sure that nobody shirked their duties to a point where someone might starve.
Despite their situation, they were never too unhappy or miserable. Just lazy and sleepy, really. Most of the elders in this village had lived their entire lives not having experienced anything truly stimulating or dangerous. Hunting was a simple task, and there were a couple of riveting tales that hunters would retell (or concoct) from their experiences in the forest, but other than this, people lived relatively simple lifestyles.
This was until the chieftain banned monetary transactions after they were gifted such riches beyond measure. Everyone was roused from their decades-long slumber and got to work, and already two months in, the village had been completely revamped.
Builders carried huge logs over their shoulders, carrying the burdens with only some difficulty. Dilapidated houses were being torn down and rebuilt from ground-up, refurbishing the entire village. The hunters returned from the forest with bounties capable of feeding the entire village several times over, giving the excess food to the cultivating youngsters, ravenous from their increased strengths, but most of all, half of the population of eight hundred villagers were capable of cultivating, the other half either having no talent or being too old to do so. What made Lao Chen happy, however, was the lack of prejudice towards those deemed unable to cultivate.
In almost every story he had read, cultivating societies tended to call non-cultivators ‘trash’ and ‘useless’, as though their inability to cultivate meant that their societal worth was nil. Lao Chen always begged to differ, and never really enjoyed those books, opting for more wholesome options where the protagonist lived in a society capable of utilizing every one of its members. No one was truly trash, he knew. And the fact that the village knew brought him unbridled happiness.
Kids were out playing, loud and boisterous, villagers were up during the night, celebrating for no reason other than for celebration’s sake, and colour had been restored after centuries of void. Lao Chen was content.
Sitting on a nearby rooftop, he marvelled at the beautiful society he had created after five and a half decades of herding sheep. He clasped his hands and thanked whichever god would listen for having mercy and bestowing them with such bounties.
After an hour of gratitude, Lao Chen went to the sect hall where some students were still in lotus poses, even during night-time, illuminated by dim candle-lights. The two cultivation manuals were laid on top of two podiums where anyone was allowed to borrow it for a moment or two.
He sighed as he realized that he almost had no need for it, because aside from cultivation advice, the rest of the pages within the book narrated the ways in which the author would overcome their bottlenecks.
He needed martial art skills, but more than that, he needed Qi skills. With that in mind, he located his bags of holding in his private room in the sect hall and dug for some martial art tomes within the piles of old books.
Two became quite apparent. A Yin Phoenix Grimoire and a Yang Dragon Scroll. One for Qi skills, and the other for physical martial arts.
Since he always fused both styles, he wasn’t sure on why he would stop now. In fact, the first technique listed in the Grimoire was a simple phoenix bomb, requiring the rank of a Qi Condensation stage cultivator to learn.
The meridian chart ameliorated the practice of learning the technique, much to his joy. The technique was basically the creation of a small Qi phoenix that would explode upon contact with any surface. The illustrations showed a fiery-red phoenix that would cause devastation behind itself.
After completing the incantation gesture and pushing Qi through the proper meridians, a phoenix grew from his hand, only it wasn’t fiery-red. It was black. Saying that it was dark was an understatement because this creature didn’t even reflect light. It looked like it wasn’t there, almost, but because its surroundings had colour, it was extremely easy to spot.
Lao Chen let the phoenix dissipate before perusing the Yang Dragon Scroll. It was a complex set of hundreds, almost thousands of movements in a variety of different orders and combos with five main styles in mind: Bare-handed fighting, sword techniques, sabre techniques, spear techniques and staff techniques. Lao Chen sighed. This was going to be an exceedingly challenging decade for him.
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'Baldy' Ling was nervous.
The myriad ideas jumbled in his head offset his nerves by a tiny margin, so he knew that he had to collect as much courage as he possibly could for this meeting. Best case scenario is that he is simply rejected.
No. That wasn't it. Worst case scenario, he is made to look like a fool in front of the entire village.
He knew more than anyone else that the village frowned upon art of nearly all kinds. Drawings, poems, song and dance, none of these artforms could evoke the same passion in his fellow villagemen that it did with himself.
He still recalled confessing his ideas to his brother and his gang of friends and their only reaction was to laugh at the unmanliness. They all had selected the warrior paths, studying copies of the Yang manuals. They were also talented. Even the exalted Lao Chen had acknowledged this, but even for all their talent, Benefactor Lao Chen wasn't particularly moved.
If Lao Chen couldn't be moved by these doubtlessly talented individuals, what of Ling?
No, he screamed inwardly. He wouldn't back down. His brother and his friends were just a bunch of philistines, too close-minded to innovate. Yes. If anyone could acknowledge his ideas, it was Benefactor Lao Chen.
Steeling his nerves, he headed straight to the Sect Hall which had just finished construction. He walked past and in-between the hundreds of cultivating youths and adults. Lao Chen wasn't at his usual spot in the forefront where he would expound on the secrets of cultivation.
That meant that he must have entered the door behind the spot where his private room was.
Ling took a deep breath and knocked once. It was for a good cause, he reminded himself. His ideas were worthwhile, he added.
"Come in," came an old voice from inside. Ling opened the door cautiously, slipping inside soundlessly. The room very small, containing only a desk, chair and instead of walls, there were bookshelves. In fact, once Ling closed the door, he noticed that it, too, was a bookshelf. The old man sat on his chair, seemingly studying an old scroll.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
"Uhm... ah, eh..." Ling was shivering as he removed the bag from his back containing his research.
"Speak up, Ling," Benefactor Lao Chen said gently.
He knew his name?
"Uh... you know my name...?"
Great work, Ling! Now he'll think you're an idiot.
Lao Chen laughed kindly. "I used to read stories to you. Of course, I know your name. You and your brother Yao, and his friends Po and Gu. You're all on the cusp of manhood, fifteen if I recall correctly."
Ling grimaced at hearing their names, but nodded respectfully. He was fifteen.
"Regardless," Lao Chen put down the scroll and turned his chair to face him. "What did you have for me?"
Ling regained his courage and fell on his knees as he fished out a roll of paper and straightened it out on the floor. The paper contained an elaborate drawing: A mandala containing a variety of calligraphic symbols and shapes which were no doubt pleasing to the eye.
Lao Chen smiled. "You've produced art!"
Ling smiled brightly but shook his head. "T-that's not the extent of it!"
Hovering both his hands over the paper, he exerted his mid-level Qi Condensation cultivation base. The lines began to darken and where the ink had not touched the paper, it shone near-blindingly.
The mandala rose from the paper and spun easily in the air, much to Benefactor Lao Chen's amazement.
"I managed to retrieve an old tome which described the art of magical array crafting. By utilizing this technique in conjunction with the Yin cultivation method, I am now able to affix a variety of different effects to the area which the mandala covers!"
Lao Chen folded one arm and held his chin with his other hand, grinning. "I can imagine a host of different applications that this beautiful technique can have. You've done well, Ling."
Ling grinned as Lao Chen rubbed his bald head. Benefactor Lao Chen appreciated his art. Ling's resolve hardened.
He would make this a village that could rise to the heavens.
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Once the first year had ended, a good 80% of the village population could cultivate, and along with Lao Chen, several talented adults had reached the stage of foundation establishment before the children. Wu Shan was at the very cusp, having broken through the Late stage of Qi Condensation months prior.
Lao Chen’s Dao pillars were a beautiful sight to see. Whereas his first was shiny white, the second one was an absolute black, not reflective in the least. The white pillar had Yang Qi and the black pillar had Yin Qi, contradicting each other radically.
Upon reaching his last Dao Pillar, after forming four white and four black pillar, he was torn on what to fill his final Dao Pillar with.
In other news, after a ceaseless endeavour, the old chieftain had finally cultivated towards a Yin Phoenix Dantian, having purified his impure Dantian for months before being able to take the quantum leap. Surprisingly enough, he also had an immense talent, having broken through to the middle stage in under a week, looking all the younger for it.
The errand men had made their first journey out to the outside world to gather things such as supplies, blueprints and technology, using a small portion of their treasure as compensation. This caused the village to develop even more radically, and because of the influx of resources and heightened living standards, the village quickly became the subject of an abrupt baby boom.
One would barely see even a single woman not undergoing pregnancy while over the age of twenty, which spoke of great tidings to the village with no name.
The bald boy, Ling, had quickly become another village star. His magical arrays made many things easier, such as construction, animal trapping and the surplus production of water which would expand their agriculture explosively.
Lao Chen then came to an epiphany on what he would do with his Dao Pillars after ceaseless meditation on his ninth pillar.
Balance.
Thus, in his last Dao pillar, he did not use either Yin Qi or Yang Qi. Instead, he melded all 8 of his Dao Pillars together, stacking them on top of each other before pressing them downwards. Eight became one, and that became his ninth Dao pillar. True balance. Where he sacrificed Qi Capacity, he gained many times purer and more vibrant Qi.
Core Formation was just over the horizon now.
The year after that, Lao Chen had formed a Core, perfectly blending Yin and Yang together in an unshakable balance, absorbing Qi at an alarming rate before having filled his core to the brim.
Wu Shan, being the talented child that he was, had broken through to Foundation Establishment, and followed Lao Chen’s every advice, having built a pure Yang pillar after months of hard work, and then creating a Yin pillar, but his pace was much slower than Lao Chen’s.
The chieftain had already regained a lot of his youth at his cultivation stage, having taken his first step into Foundation Establishment, using the wisdom he gained from years of ruling to overtake all of his more talented juniors.
By the second year, those who were incapable of cultivating could only be counted on both hands, and including them were toddlers and senile elders too old to parse instructions given, no matter how rigorously attempted. The elders were lost causes, but Lao Chen would always come visit them every day to part with advice on how to regain their youth, but the elders were obstinate, confused and unwilling to take advice from an old codger like them.
Lao Chen didn’t give up on them, regardless. Some were his family: Uncle Xia, Cousin Ren, Brother Yu. He couldn't give up on them.
The village didn’t look the same from two years. Every shanty house had been rebuilt, facilities such as hospitals had been instated, and the silos had been improved. The village was like a miniature city, self-sufficient and exceedingly strong.
Lao Chen’s foray into the Yin and Yang techniques were also a success. The Yang martial arts was taught to every Yang Dragon practitioner, and the Yin spells were also taught to the Yin Phoenix disciples. In his own experience, the Yang techniques were exceedingly simple to learn. Other than the entire move skillset, which took several months to properly master, the three basic Qi applications were a breeze. These were Yang Fist, Yang Aegis and Yang Arms. An enforcement technique, a shielding technique and a weapon creation technique respectively, these techniques were required to pull of the entire skill set effectively.
The Yin spells were a completely different issue altogether. Strangely enough, those who cultivated the Yin Phoenix also happened to be the most intelligent of the village, and thus the most capable of mastering the complicated spells provided in the grimoire. Of these were basics such as Phoenix bomb, Dragon Trail and Mind Rending. Dragon Trail entailed creating a Qi construct shaped like a dragon which would be released on a foe, carving a trail on the soil until the target is either eliminated or the construct dissipates. Mind Rending was a technique which utilized Yin Qi to affect the psyche of the opponent, reducing them to a terrified mess temporarily.
Lao Chen also found that he had become the de facto Mentor and father figure of Wu Shan, the orphaned outcast. Despite this, he still remained fair to all his other students, giving them pointers and helping them all out. They were the village’s future leaders, after all. They couldn’t be neglected.
By the third year, Lao Chen was still in the process of creating a Nascent Soul, though he realized that it would take an exceedingly large amount of effort. Although the manuals detailed on what to do when creating the Nascent Soul, Lao Chen always begged to differ with their explanations.
A Nascent Soul was an infant-like being that existed within one’s soul. A special function of it is that if one is slain in battle, one can retreat into their nascent soul and recover there, but remain vulnerable as a result. A good nascent soul is one that is capable of shielding its host against damage while the host is recovering its body inside of it, and while it is the most preferable option, one must also take into account the manoeuvrability of the nascent soul, its sentient and awareness, and how loyal it has to be.
The whole idea of growing a being inside of himself was wrong to him on so many levels, Lao Chen wondered whether he should just quit cultivating at the stage of Core Formation, knowing that he had gained an additional 500 years of longevity.
He looked at the metal ring on his finger, sighing as he smiled at the fond memories that it had given him. Besides the Tribulation Lightning, he had found no other function that it carried. Looking at it, he remembered the sheer excitement he felt as an old man, seeing what must have been a divine artefact heaven-sent.
He felt at his face, something he never really got tired of, becoming one of his casual mannerisms. His wrinkles were there, still, but his hands had no tremors of old age. His fingers didn’t creak whenever he bent them, and there was no pain associated with casual movements. Despite his newfound strength, cultivation made him realize a simple truth.
He had faced the truth that he was afraid to adventure, but he was certain that after the ten years were up, he would dive into his journey with no fear, with his little Wu Shan beside him.