Yip Chor felt them rubbing his body with oil, felt them wrapping him in burial robes, heard them saying goodbye to him, and felt them cooking him. At every stage, he struggled to call out, tell them he was still alive, that they were making a terrible mistake: but they could not sense him in this surreal twilight zone between life and death.
However, as the flames began their dance around his seemingly lifeless body, an unexpected serenity washed over him. The fire's touch wasn't agonising, but oddly comforting, a genuine sensation he hadn't felt in a while. This warmth coaxed him, pulled him towards an unseen space within himself, an inner sanctuary untouched by the world outside - his soul realm.
In this world, he observed colossal wheels of life and fate circling the tranquil glade beneath a starlit sky. The luminary dedicated to his physical body, his reddish star, emanated a light brighter than its celestial peers. Its brilliance was compelling, a cosmic beacon pulsating with resonant energy, offering a way for some eager concept to make its entrance.
With calculated intention, Yip Chor focused his will on this radiant entity. A gust of heat and light announced the arrival of a fiery presence, a conceptual manifestation of the fire that enveloped his physical form in the mortal realm. In this inner cosmos, his will was the undisputed authority, directing the fiery energy into a sphere that descended gently onto his outstretched palm. The flame was tangible yet harmless, an abstract construct of the real thing, he theorized.
Curiosity piqued, Yip Chor summoned the flame to descend onto a bush within the atmosphere of his Biosphere. Smoke started curling and the bush caught fire. To his surprise, the flame resisted his command to extinguish. This wasn't anticipated, defiance that hinted his dominion might not be as comprehensive as he assumed.
Determined to understand this anomaly, Yip Chor traversed his realm, leaving the stone pillar to return to its verdant grounds. The celestial bodies overhead seemed immense, receding to dizzying heights. How peculiar, he mused. The Scale of objects changed when he entered his biosphere.
Drawn to the burning bush, he found the fire hot, contrary to the conceptual flame he held earlier. Despite his efforts, it remained intractable, choosing not to heed his will.
After ensuring the fire was contained with a ditch he dug, to prevent further damage, Yip Chor returned to the peak. He looked up at his body star, brighter than ever. Could he merge the flames from his mortal form with his celestial counterpart? With focused intent, he called upon the outer fire to join with his body star. In an instant, they coalesced into an ancient word embodying the essence of fire. This conceptual symbol settled on the rock's surface, aligning with its etched counterpart.
An epiphany unfurled within Yip Chor. Each word etched on the rock epitomised universal concepts, potent keys to enlivening his soul gene. The symbolism was profound; it connected the tangible with the ethereal, transcending the barriers of realms.
Emboldened, Yip Chor again commanded the bush fire. This time it obeyed, rising to hover before him, somewhat heavy but fascinating. It was a new interaction, a tactile engagement with the abstract.
His consciousness oscillated between the two realms; his soul encased within the unyielding shell of his mortal form, burning in the funeral pyre, and his ethereal self navigating the cosmic wonders of his soul realm. He was torn between two existences, brimming with ideas, and on the cusp of unlocking secrets that bridged the physical and the soulful.
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Time, that relentless master, etched its passage in the hushed serenity of the ancestral crypt. The vibrant songbirds of Qilin announced spring's arrival, their effervescent symphony playing counterpoint to the undisturbed stillness of Yip Chor’s resting place.
Enveloped within this sacred mausoleum, Yip Chor's skeletal form sat in a lotus position, his empty ocular cavities peering into the inky abyss. His existence straddled two dimensions; the ethereal and the corporeal, his consciousness an imperial sentinel upon the throne within his soul realm, observing his physical remains with a calm detachment.
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During the slow, measured cadence of months spent in meditative introspection, Yip Chor reshaped the metaphysical biosphere of his soul realm. Stone stairs, chiselled from the transmuted earth within his internal biosphere, rose towards the zenith of the central pillar, like the stairs of a Ziggurat. Within his biosphere at the bottom of the stairs, his hands had moulded the terrain, erecting a pagoda amidst a carefully curated garden – a sanctuary where vestiges of mortal life could be emulated.
However, a disconcerting realization dawned on Yip Chor. The ritualistic sustenance of eating and drinking was no longer an imperative. His life force was now drawn from the profound understanding of the Dao. His external death and his internal vitality were simply manifestations of his primordial cause, an intricate dance with the diverse concepts he had amassed.
A companion shared this paradoxical existence. Chucky, the small bird, had made the biosphere it's home. Yip Chor conjectured it was the same bird he had unwittingly extinguished years before, its existence now woven inexplicably into the fabric of his own. The complexities of this phenomenon remained an enigma, yet, Yip Chor lavished attention upon Chucky, cultivating a lush vegetable patch and preparing meals with an artisan's flair.
This newfound existence carried many perplexing mysteries. One of them was his biosphere, when viewed from the external cosmos, seemed to span a minuscule radius, a mere handful of meters. Yet, his every attempt to traverse this enclosure resulted in an uncanny mile-long journey back to the origin, as if he had navigated a spherical realm, forever finding himself back at the initial point.
With the establishment of his inner sanctuary and cultivation of his garden, Yip Chor realised that he was putting off the inevitable. The job ahead in the external realm was more arduous, the objective more elusive – to master the reins of his physical body.
Despite his resolute attempts, his skeletal form remained obstinate. His internal body, sentient and responsive, seemed to dance to a different rhythm compared to his external form, the latter adhering to complex laws as yet unfathomable. It was as if his body moved in response to an ancient, cryptic will that had breathed life into this strand of the universe. Could this will belong to the young lad cloaked in an old man's voice, his hair a shimmering white waterfall?
Accepting his limitations and over a month, Yip Chor dedicated himself to mapping the intricacies of his skeletal form within his mind. He meticulously crafted a subconscious system map, forging a seamless interface between his inner intent and his outer body. It was a remarkable feat of mental discipline and understanding, allowing him to extend his resonance beyond his being.
Yip Chor realized that everything possessed a resonance, and with time and focused intent, he could influence any object. He had even vibrated a rock across the floor of the crypt, a demonstration of his expanding abilities.
Something else occurred in this period of exploration... the awakening of his third eye. It was a result of his expanding consciousness, he supposed. Through this newfound perception, he had a very weak vision of the outer world. Mainly blurred shapes are expressed as a panoramic painting of the world around him, with a diameter of around 5 meters, but growing steadily. However, this newly acquired perception was more than just sight. It was an amalgamation of all senses—touch, taste, smell, sound, intuition—bestowing upon Yip Chor a sensory awareness that transcended the physical constraints of his skeletal body. The awakening of his third eye was a milestone on his path to mastery over his external form, amplifying his perception and control, paving the way for the next phase of his journey—animating his physical form and preparing to step beyond the crypt.
Now, in the lotus position, Yip Chor observed his skeletal frame, anticipation coursing through him. With a command from his soul, his body moved forward, its eerie motion causing stony dust to shake free from his rotting burial clothes. The subtle vibrations emitted a deep resonant hum, reminiscent of a monk's burial chant. As he reached the edge of the burial cutout, his feet dropped to the floor with a clank, resembling the movement of a puppet's feet on a stage.
Yip Chor then sent a command to his feet, and they came alive, vibrating against the cold stone. The dust and fragments of stone on the ground arranged themselves in a pattern dictated by the vibrations he emitted. With arms akimbo, he commenced walking forward, each step emanating an otherworldly aura—a testament to his resolute spirit defying the limitations of mortality. Days of practice solidified his control over his animated skeletal form. Yip Chor, decided, it was time to leave the crypt.