Cultivation Fever 45 Training

Spinning was the first technique to learn. I had little s.p.a.ce in my room, so I stepped out into the front garden. I practiced whirling my qi whip by my side and found it more difficult that it looked.

I had used a skipping rope in my past life, so getting it going wasn't too hard. But my wrist wasn't flexible enough to spin the whip parallel to my body.

As well as that, whenever the whip built to a good speed, my coordination failed me, and the whip went slack. Until night fell, I practiced spinning a five-foot whip in slow, deliberate circles, stretching out my wrist.

Now I needed to figure out how to spend my nights. First off was learning the second stage of the Embryonic Breathing Technique: Mingmen Breathing.

According to the book, the Mingmen point was located in the lower back, behind the kidneys. Mingmen breathing involved pulling that point in, along with your abdomen and perineum, on each inhale.

It was incredibly uncomfortable, and my back felt tense. I realised that when I practised Reverse Abdominal Breathing, I often pushed my back out to compensate for my compressed abdomen.

Starting small, I isolated the Mingmen point, disregarding my abdomen and perineum. Breathing while pulling it in was tough and tense, and for the first few hours, I couldn't relax into meditation.

But after a while, it became more comfortable, and I could bring my focus to the lower dantian and meditate. I recovered qi slower than when using Reverse Abdominal Breathing, but I knew that combining the two would be powerful.

Countless breath cycles later, my body overflowed with qi. My soul was nearly full when I started, so I had been practicing Soul Expansion at the same time.

With this overflowing qi, I decided to practice holding my qi in the lower dantian. Before morning came, I spent my time learning how to hold my qi there with a tensed core.

When dawn broke, I made my way to the back patio. It was so early that father hadn't started practicing, so I had free reign to train.

My goal for now was to be able to spin the whip at a good speed, parallel to my body. By the time Father joined me, I could comfortably spin at just over half the speed that Crow had shown when he slowed down to demonstrate for me.

Father's face beamed in delight when he saw me practicing outside. I could tell that this was something he had always wanted; to train alongside his son.

We took opposite ends of the patio, facing out over the cliffs, basking in the morning sun. We practiced without saying a word, absorbed in the experience.

After Father finished his routine we went in for breakfast. We were both ravenous from our exercise and devoured our food, while Mother surveyed the scene with a contented smile.

Father worked in the study while I continued to train out the back. My training was tiring, but whenever I couldn't continue, I meditated instead.

Father often took short breaks from his work to come out into the back patio and watch. Despite saying that he couldn't teach me how to use a whip, he often gave helpful pointers.

He must have learned a lot from sparring with Crow; the two seemed to have a long history. By the end of my first day, I was comfortable spinning for up to ten minutes.

The following days continued in a similar fas.h.i.+on, and the time flew by. When dawn arrived on the second day, I could fully perform Mingmen breathing, and the results were as outstanding as expected.

I could regenerate around 100 qi an hour, so a full night of meditation completely replenished my soul. Full Mingmen Breathing still felt uncomfortable, so there was room for improvement.

By that evening, my spinning became fluid and automatic. The whip still wasn't parallel to my body, but I realised that increasing my wrist's flexibility would only come with time.

That night, I succeeded in keeping qi in my lower dantian while tensing my core. I could now perform slow movements filled with intent, emitting qi bursts of qi.

After father finished his training the next morning, I demonstrated this new found skill. He told me that it resembled a martial technique called Qi Gong, which was popular in the central academies.

During this third day, I attempted to learn twisting. With no prior experience, this was far more challenging that spinning. I only managed one stunted twist by the time evening came.

While performing Mingmen breathing that night, I realised that my body's capacity for qi had dramatically increased. It could now contain 150 soul force before overflowing.

With this high a capacity, I no longer needed to use my soul's qi to form a whip. I could continually practice Soul Expansion without ever needing to refill my soul.

I spent the night alternating between Mingmen breathing, and what I now called Qi Gong. Every hour and a half, I would expend all my collected energy.

Unfortunately, I hadn't spent enough time meditating that night. I groggily joined father, trying to push through the exhaustion.

Father noticed that I seemed out of it and reminded me of an important lesson I had learnt in my past life. Training without rest was lost time, as you couldn't consolidate your progress

Keeping that in mind, after breakfast I meditated for a few hours without practicing Qi Gong. My qi overflowed, but I paid it no heed, knowing that rest was the most important thing.

Rejuvenated, I got back to training. By the end of the day, I could perform a competent twist. But as night fell, I was worried about what to do with my overflowing qi.

I asked Father, but he didn't have a solution. After all, he wasted an overwhelming amount of qi in his relaxed state. I returned to my room, and after further consideration, I had an idea.

What if I could maintain an aura of qi by using the Qi Manifestation technique? I excitedly tried it but ran into serious issues from the beginning.

Meditation and Qi Manifestation required two polar-opposite mental states. There was no happy in-between, as neither technique functioned without fully entering a peaceful or agitated state.

Dejected, I settled on losing qi. At least the lengthy periods of Mingmen breathing allowed me to deepen my understanding and boost my recovery rate.

On the fifth morning, Father came to me with a new idea. He told me about crystals that could be injected with qi as a temporary storage. These crystals acted like battery packs and could be used during a fight.

Unfortunately, high-quality crystals that could withstand repeated cycles of storage and withdrawal cost a pretty penny. Father said he could ask Adrian where to get one, but I told him not to.

As much as I wanted to optimise my cultivation, I didn't want to financially burden my family. I had already put them in a dire state when I broke my soul, and asking for more was inconsiderate.

That day I practiced shooting. Having already succeeded before, the problem wasn't getting started, but speeding up the process.

It took time to summon the emotional intensity required to rapidly move my qi. So, instead of thoughtlessly shooting qi, I honed my mind.

I took myself through cycles of meditating, then exploding with rage. Unfortunately, without a focal point, it was difficult to become enraged.

In my past life, I had heard of image training as an important aspect of elite sports. Braving myself for what was to come, I steadily brought myself into the scene where Tai nearly killed me.

Piece by piece, I built up the scene in my head. The smooth granite walls, dotted with blinding lights. The unconscious scholar, bleeding out in the corner. Tai holding me like livestock, and his rasping demonic voice.

Fully immersed in this world, I felt something different to what I had then. Not the acceptance of defeat, nor the clarity that overcame me, but a seething anger.

This anger wasn't just directed at Tai. Despite all he had done, I couldn't bring myself to hate him. People that do such horrific things are often tormented by demons of their own.

Instead, it was anger at myself. Anger at my arrogance; for walking into a den of bullies with no care in the world. Anger at my complacency; for accepting defeat when the fight had only begun.

This self-hatred was violent… but somewhat comfortable. It was a feeling I had become accustomed to in my past life. Was it healthy? Probably not. But it was more potent than anything else I felt.

This was the emotion that I would use, conjured from this powerful scene. I kept developing the image in my head, until it became as clear as the vision of the Soul Becoming World Technique.

Bringing myself out of this vision, I prepared to shoot my qi. I started in a peaceful state, my soul calm and still. But the moment I pictured the scene, my emotions flared.

As soon as my mental state flipped, my qi started rampaging, and I knew I had succeeded. This was it. This was the fuel for my power.