Chapter 32: Using the Dao as a Furnace to Refine My Path

Old Wu’s words had pried open a door for Xiao Chen, leading him into an entirely new world.

Creating a cultivation technique.

These four words sounded simple, yet to any cultivator, they were nothing short of a delusional fantasy. Every technique circulating in the world, even the most basic introductory manual, had been perfected by countless predecessors who spent their entire lives refining and verifying their work through endless trials. Creating one’s own technique was no less difficult than a mortal ascending to the heavens. The slightest mistake would result in shattered meridians and the annihilation of one’s soul.

However, Xiao Chen felt no fear; instead, he was filled with unprecedented excitement and anticipation.

He knew this was his only path, and the one best suited to him. His "Selfless Sword Dao" was a path that had never been walked before, and naturally, it required a technique that had never existed before to carry it.

He did not rush. Instead, he immersed his heart and soul into the vast ocean of knowledge within the Scripture Pavilion. Taking the heavens and earth as his teacher, his own body as the furnace, and his "Selfless Sword Heart" as the fire, he embarked on this arduous and magnificent journey of "refining the law."

He sat cross-legged in the center of the pavilion, emptying his mind. His divine sense no longer searched inward toward his meridians but extended infinitely outward. He felt the flow of the wind, the shifting of light and shadow, the rise and fall of every speck of dust in the hall, and the tranquil aura emanating from the ancient texts on the shelves.

He imagined his body as a blank sheet of paper and his weak, nascent spiritual energy as ink. The brush guiding this energy was his "Selfless Sword Heart," resonating with the heavens and earth.

He began to experiment.

For his first stroke, he tried to mimic the trajectory of the wind. The spiritual energy flowed softly through his meridians like a breeze. Yet, the wind is formless and unpredictable, while his meridians were physical. The moment they touched, a tearing pain surged through his entire body. He let out a muffled groan as a trace of blood spilled from his lips.

He had failed.

Undeterred, he wiped away the blood and tried again.

This time, he tried to mimic the rhythm of water. The spiritual energy was like water—gentle and all-encompassing. It went better than mimicking the wind, but the power of water was vast, and as his energy gathered, the force of it exceeded the limits of his fragile meridians.

He failed again.

Next, he mimicked the steadiness of mountains, the ferocity of fire, and the growth of wood... Each attempt ended in failure, and every failure brought intense pain and damage to his meridians. In just a few days, his face became paler than it had been when he first descended from Sword Burial Cliff.

Yet, the light in his eyes grew ever brighter.

Every failure deepened his understanding of the world. He gradually realized that simply mimicking a single "Way" was futile, for the world itself was not singular. There is moisture in the wind, dust in the water, vegetation on the mountains, and the nature of fire within wood. All things generate and restrain one another, serving as the foundation for a harmonious whole.

His technique should be the same.

Realizing this, he stopped obsessing over profound sword manuals. He stepped down from his meditation cushion and began to browse the most basic, neglected texts on the first floor.

He read *A Brief Explanation of the Five Elements* to understand the cycle of generation and restraint. He studied *Annotations on the Flora of the Southern Region* to learn the principles of growth and decay. He pored over *Geography of Mountains and Rivers* to grasp the veins and majestic momentum of the landscape. He even read mortal texts on *Agricultural Seasons* and *Craftsmanship*, seeking to understand the most fundamental laws of nature and creation.

These "miscellaneous books," deemed worthless by other cultivators, became treasures containing supreme truths in Xiao Chen’s eyes. He absorbed this knowledge, digested it, and integrated it into his own insights.

Within his heart, the prototype of a brand-new technique began to take shape.

This technique no longer sought dominance or purity of spiritual energy, but rather "resonance."

When the energy flowed, it should be like a spring breeze, brushing over all things to awaken vitality; like a stream, following the terrain and penetrating every crevice; like a tree, rooting deep into the earth while reaching toward the sky; like a flame, bringing warmth rather than destruction; and like metal, concealing its edge while remaining indestructible.

It was to be a collection of all things, a microcosm of the heavens and earth.

Time slipped away as Xiao Chen delved into his studies, and three months passed in the blink of an eye.

On this day, in the Scripture Pavilion, Xiao Chen sat cross-legged once more. His breathing had become long and steady, and the pallor had returned to a healthy glow. After countless failures and adjustments, he was finally ready for his last—and most certain—attempt.

He closed his eyes, his mind and spirit unified.

The spiritual energy within him was no longer forced; it seemed to possess a life of its own. It turned into spring rain, silently nourishing his parched meridians. It became tree roots, digging deep along his meridian pathways to stabilize his foundation. It transformed into a river, forming a perfect, endless cycle within his body.

The entire process was devoid of obstruction or pain; there was only the harmony and wholeness of something falling into place naturally. He felt that he was no longer an isolated individual but had established a wondrous connection with the entire pavilion, the back mountain, and even the whole world.

He could "hear" the wind whispering between the pages, "see" the sunlight dancing among the dust motes, and "smell" the fragrance of roots deep within the soil.

In this moment, all things seemed to become a part of him, and he, a part of all things.

"All things... can be a sword. All things... are the technique."

Xiao Chen murmured to himself, his heart clear and void.

It was done!

This unique technique, created by his own hands, was finally complete!

He named it: *The Sword Manual of All Things*.

The moment the technique stabilized, a sudden transformation occurred!

Outside the Scripture Pavilion, the clear sky suddenly saw endless spiritual energy gathering from all directions, forming a visible vortex above the stone tower. At the center of the vortex, seven-colored auspicious clouds appeared. Streams of intensely pure spiritual energy, as if guided by some unseen force, turned into a pillar of light that pierced through the roof and poured directly into Xiao Chen’s body!

Inversion of spiritual energy! Resonance with the heavens and earth!

This was the legendary phenomenon that occurred only when a supreme technique or an heaven-defying elixir was born!

Under the infusion of this pure energy, Xiao Chen’s spiritual power surged at a terrifying speed. His weak streams of energy transformed into a raging river in an instant! His newly repaired meridians were nourished by this gentle yet massive energy, becoming tougher and wider than ever before!

In just a few breaths, his cultivation broke through the ranks of Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment, coming to a steady halt at the early stage of the Golden Core realm!

Moreover, this was no ordinary Golden Core. He could feel the core condensed within him—it was crystal clear, flawless, and its foundation was far more stable and pure than anyone else’s.

Though the phenomenon was grand, it came and went quickly. In less than a dozen breaths, the vortex and the auspicious clouds vanished without a trace, as if they had never existed.

However, that fleeting glimpse was enough to alarm the true powerhouses.

In a corner of the Scripture Pavilion, Old Wu, the hunchbacked man who had been sweeping the floor, suddenly looked up. A light of unprecedented intensity erupted from his turbid eyes. He stared fixedly in Xiao Chen’s direction, his face filled with shock and ecstatic disbelief.

"This... this is... The Dao produces one, one produces two, two produces three, and three produce all things... He actually... actually forged a brand-new path! Hahahaha! My Heavenly Sword Sect... shall rise! It shall surely rise!"

High above the Sea of Clouds, in the Heavenly Sword Palace, the Sect Master Li Changfeng and three Grand Elders were awakened simultaneously. They cast their divine senses toward the back mountain, their faces etched with the same bewildered confusion.

"That ripple just now... was it from the direction of the Scripture Pavilion?"

"Such pure Dao rhymes! Such majestic vitality! What happened?"

"The omen vanished in a flash, as if suppressed by some force... but that feeling cannot be wrong. Something world-shaking has been born!"

Their gazes, in unison, focused once more on the young man whom they thought they had understood, but now realized they could see through less and less.