Chapter Seventeen: Could It Be That I Am a One-in-a-Million Mystic Talent?

The charity hall did not keep guests overnight, and Feng Xue had no intention of staying longer. Having finished copying the secret manual and making extensive notes, he settled the final payment. Following the advice of his senior brother—“If you have any questions, feel free to ask, but avoid the master”—he went to a well-decorated inn that blended Eastern and Western styles.

Although he intended to rent a room in the county, it was already getting late. Whether searching for a place himself or seeking a broker’s help, it would be difficult at this hour. Spending a hundred copper coins, he rented an upper room and finally placed his dozen kilograms of belongings beside the bed. Suddenly, the little white snake, who had been silent all along, spoke up:

“It’s getting dark. Put me by the window; I want to cultivate!”

“Oh? Weren’t you just staying in the temple yesterday? Or did you not cultivate then?” Feng Xue asked, surprised. The little white snake replied:

“It’s fine outdoors, but the city is different. Crowded places are filled with ambient spiritual energy, which mixes with the faint moonlight’s yin energy. Fortunately, this inn has few guests, so the impact isn’t severe. As long as I’m near an outer wall, it’s fine. When you buy a house, it’s best to find one with fewer neighbors, or at least with a courtyard…”

“Why do I have to consider your cultivation when buying a house?” Feng Xue smiled, meeting the snake’s eyes—dark and gleaming like black gemstones on his ring. The little white snake’s tone was complex as she replied:

“Aren’t you planning to make me the family spirit?”

“Oh? So you agree?” Feng Xue teased.

“No!” she snapped.

“Then why should I help you cultivate? You don’t even want to assist my cultivation!” Feng Xue asked sharply. He had sealed the little white snake in his ring to have a cultivation encyclopedia. Although she was uncooperative, with the existence of his Destiny Seal, the little white snake was at least a defensive asset.

But if she were only a means of protection, her cultivation level wouldn’t matter much…

The little white snake was stumped by this question. She certainly wouldn’t become his cultivation furnace. Being a family spirit was a last resort for those who had lost their physical bodies. Though her body had been altered, it still existed, and there was hope for true cultivation. Who would choose to walk the ghostly path?

Yet, constrained as she was, she needed his help to find a suitable environment for cultivation.

After deep thought, she finally found a solid excuse: “Can’t you turn me into something else? Before, you transformed me into that strange vehicle. Running consumes my demon power. If my cultivation is higher, I can run faster!”

“Oh?” Feng Xue was surprised. He had always wondered why that motorcycle ran without a fuel tank or battery, thinking it might consume biological energy or that the wheels were like limbs, driven by some strange technique.

But now it seemed it was powered by demon energy?

So the stun baton and taser gun might also convert demon energy into electricity?

If demon energy can be converted into electricity, why can’t it power a laser gun?

Though he didn’t fully understand the intricacies, Feng Xue realized he had underestimated the “sealed mouth” entry of the little white snake. He planned to find an open space later to experiment properly. Since the snake had spoken, he had no reason to refuse. He removed the ring and placed it by the window, reminding her:

“If anyone tries to steal you, shout loud!”

“Hmph,” the little white snake responded indifferently. Feng Xue didn’t dwell on it and sat by the bed to begin his visualization training.

To his surprise, entering meditation was much easier than he had imagined. Within minutes of closing his eyes, he entered a clear state of no thoughts.

“This simple? Did I mess up the practice?”

As distracting thoughts surfaced, Feng Xue immediately snapped out of the meditative state, his mind flooded with countless thoughts, but he felt more relaxed.

“Being jolted out means I really entered meditation, not some hallucination. But why is it so easy?”

He didn’t understand but closed his eyes again, quickly returning to that lucid state.

“Is it really this easy? Could I be a once-in-a-million mystical cultivation prodigy?”

He exited meditation once more, uncertain. In truth, it wasn’t an exaggeration. Since his transmigration, in just over ten days, he had unknowingly mastered “eliminating distractions”—a skill that ordinary cultivators might take months or years to grasp.

Or rather, if he hadn’t mastered it, those days spent counting down to the end would have driven him insane!

“Oh well, existence justifies itself. I’m not dying, so keep practicing!” Resolving this, Feng Xue banished stray thoughts and focused intently on the black ink dot on the white paper.

About twenty seconds later, he suddenly closed his eyes and saw a white dot appear in his mind.

Though this trick relied on afterimages and wasn’t sophisticated, it was quite useful. It bypassed the hardest initial stage of visualization, allowing one to directly perceive the “mental image” within the mind.

Drawing on this sensation, Feng Xue entered meditation and began the breathing rhythm prescribed by his cultivation method. With each inhale and exhale, he imagined a stream of warmth gathering from his limbs and bones toward his chest, then sinking into the dantian. From the tailbone, the warmth traveled upward until it reached the crown, entering the sea of consciousness.

At first, this was just a fantasy—mental energy summoned by will. But as the black dot in his mind gradually faded, Feng Xue opened his eyes. When he tried to look again at the ink spot, he was stunned to find a new line of small characters hovering above his head:

“Refining Essence into Qi: In the meditative state, practicing the breathing method transforms essence and blood into primordial energy.”

“Good heavens! This thing is impressive! Does this mean that once I succeed even a tiny, unnoticed bit, I can keep repeating that success?”

Feng Xue’s heart leapt, but he forced himself to calm down.

Locking the “Refining Essence into Qi” technique, the lifespan lock naturally disengaged. With a hint of resignation, Feng Xue closed his eyes once more.

This time, however, entering meditation was notably difficult. Without the lifespan lock, his mind felt empty and hollow.

He tried to adjust his mood and quell distractions, taking a full ten minutes before finally calming down.

Yet, by then, the lingering ink dot in his vision had vanished entirely.

Opening and closing his eyes, visualizing and meditating again, Feng Xue finally experienced the difficulty described in the manual. But when the breathing technique began to operate, it felt entirely different.

If before the imagined warmth flowing through his limbs was like the faint ache of stretching muscles, now it was like receiving an intravenous drip in a hospital—he could genuinely feel something flowing inside his body.

This sensation wasn’t pleasant, even somewhat strange, but Feng Xue felt a subtle joy. He dared not overthink it, focusing on channeling this primordial energy to converge into his sea of consciousness, infusing it into the fading, nearly vanishing residual image.

Immediately, the phantom solidified into reality.