Chapter Eighteen: Surviving Requires Skill

A faint glimmer appeared on the white dot floating within Feng Xue’s sea of consciousness. In an instant, what had seemed like a mere illusion caused by a fleeting flicker transformed into a luminous orb that felt palpably real.

As the vital energy flowed in, the light on the dot gradually saturated and overflowed—not glaring, not fierce, but soft and delicate like moonlight, gently veiling and drifting, illuminating the otherwise void sea of consciousness.

Faintly, Feng Xue sensed a tactile sensation, as if the light within his consciousness had gained a temperature. Yet this warmth was subtle and elusive, akin to water at body temperature—neither hot nor cold, impossible to discern.

Just as he continued drawing in vital energy, a sudden, intense hunger surged within him. The state of meditation shattered abruptly, and Feng Xue’s awareness was ejected from his sea of consciousness once more.

Only a moment ago, he had been immersed in the fresh sensation, but now he felt dizzy and lightheaded, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart. His over-the-shoulder view expanded again, and once more, he saw the number hovering above his head—

3282.

“Damn!”

Feng Xue was acutely sensitive to the number above him. He immediately noticed the missing two days. Even accounting for the time difference between the two worlds, since it had already passed midnight, his lifespan should have read 3283 days, not 3282.

“Lost lifespan again!”

An involuntary pang of despair welled up inside him. He could no longer ignore the rapid progression brought on by locking the “Refining Essence into Qi” process and hastily re-locked his lifespan, feeling somewhat reassured.

“This mystical cultivation really does shave off life—it’s no wonder that senior brother only has twenty years left despite being so young!”

Though muttering under his breath, Feng Xue clearly felt something new stirring in his mind.

It was faint, and not very controllable—like walking on stilts. Though it was an extension of his limbs, it lacked precise command.

“So this is… magical power?”

For the power he had gained at the cost of two days’ lifespan, Feng Xue’s curiosity was piqued. Yet, lacking the means to set up a mystical altar in the inn, he could only close his eyes again and continue attempting to refine vital energy.

In truth, a thread of worry lingered in his heart. He was uncertain whether this cultivation method, which cost lifespan, would in the end succeed without draining life when opposed by “Fixing Destiny,” or if it simply couldn’t be practiced because it couldn’t consume lifespan.

If it were the former, Feng Xue had hit the jackpot. But if the latter, no matter how tempting, he would have to abandon mystical cultivation in this world and try the path of a martial artist instead.

Of course, if martial arts proved too difficult, he could always transmigrate again—he had already inquired with the innkeeper and learned that trains existed in this world, though the nearest station was over a hundred li away in the city.

Well, at least with trains, he didn’t have to worry whether they weighed a hundred tons.

With these thoughts, Feng Xue gnawed on two energy bars and entered meditation once more. His anxious mind made it hard to settle, but as the faint spiritual lights flickered within his consciousness, he gradually began a new cycle of refining essence into Qi.

Streams of energy flowed out from his limbs, gathering and spreading toward his sea of consciousness. Yet as Feng Xue examined the sensation closely, he detected something strange.

Previously, cultivating Qi felt like smoothly adjusting the flow of a tap. Now, it was disjointed—either dripping drop by drop like a leak or jumping in bursts, lacking the continuity and fluidity before.

This sense of disruption forced Feng Xue out of meditation again, but instead of re-entering immediately, he began to ponder.

“Discontinuity means that the section in the middle is ‘unusable.’ But why is it unusable?”

Taking up paper and pen, Feng Xue sketched a progress bar and began considering the problem.

“Refining essence into Qi means converting matter into energy. The hunger I felt earlier must be because of this. Lifespan loss occurs because the body’s stored energy is depleted, so it starts to squeeze cells, consuming fat and muscle—like ‘self-cannibalism.’ When a person starves to this extent, even if rescued later, the physical damage is hard to repair, so lifespan reduction is natural.”

Muttering to himself, he divided the progress bar into three segments—

“So, the trickling stream section is likely the part where food energy is converted into vital energy, which doesn’t affect lifespan at all and is harmless. The large clusters of vital energy afterward are a sudden, massive extraction of energy, causing many cells to be drained and perish. Because of the lifespan lock, this damaging effect is blocked, so cells don’t die, but the instantly extracted vital energy can’t be reabsorbed either. The middle section, then, is continuous extraction causing gradual cellular damage, but because damage begins immediately, it’s blocked from the start, so no vital energy comes out afterward.”

Feng Xue understood this well, since he had experimented extensively with the lifespan lock before.

For example, if he bought a rooster, locked its lifespan, and let it bleed, when would it stop?

The answer depended on how it was bled.

If you chopped off the head in one blow, the cut wouldn’t cause damage. But if you merely sliced the skin, the rooster would bleed until the moment the no-lock control group began to lose lifespan, at which point it suddenly stopped.

This was why Feng Xue said the “golden finger” guaranteed survival but not injury.

“So, my cultivation focus differs from other cultivators’. While normal cultivators aim to keep the process as gentle, slow, and smooth as possible to minimize damage per session and allow cell regeneration, my goal is to maximize the amount of vital energy extracted in an instant.”

To put it metaphorically, ordinary cultivators open a canal by the riverbank, letting water flow slowly; Feng Xue, however, uses a big bucket to scoop water out bucket by bucket.

Though more laborious, he can recklessly enlarge the bucket to match the river’s flow, unrestrained by concerns over reducing the water volume.

Having devised a feasible plan, Feng Xue closed his eyes once more and began to meditate anew. Meanwhile, by the window, the little white snake waiting for nightfall grew restless.

Before the moonlight had even fully spilled in, waves of vital energy surged inside the room. Though these were merely the surplus that his spirit could not fully absorb, the frequency was relentless—almost every second or two, another wave rippled outward, barely dissipating before the next burst overflowed.

Feeling the vital energy rising to the point of interfering with her sensing the moonlight, the little white snake sighed deeply and growled fiercely:

“Suck, suck, suck! Better just suck you dry!”