Chapter 4: Innate Qi

Chapter 4: Innate Qi

Fang Chi’s letter was just an ordinary piece of household correspondence, its content sparse, only a few hundred words.

First, it asked after the well-being of their parents, then mentioned how Fang Cun’s recent studies were going. After that, it simply said that Fang Chi had just entered the Immortal Palace and was too busy with various tasks, which was why he hadn’t written home much. But now that his own affairs had settled a bit, he planned to return home for a visit to ease his longing.

Looking it over repeatedly, there was nothing unusual about it.

Even the paper used for writing the letter was plain, without a hint of spiritual essence.

Fang Cun knew deep down that even though the letter seemed plain and its spiritual seal still intact, if anyone had been wary of his elder brother, this letter might have been viewed by many people. After all, this was a world with Qi Refiners and demonic beings; there were countless ways to examine the letter front and back many times without leaving a trace.

He even wondered if, even now, someone was watching him to see what he could get from the letter.

So, he couldn’t expect any problems to be written out plainly; he had to seek the true meaning between the lines.

What bothered Fang Cun was a part of the letter:

“Your talent far surpasses mine. Only out of concern for our parents being helpless, I selfishly forbade you from entering the academy, so you could stay at home to fulfill filial duties in my place.”

This snippet looked ordinary—it was just Fang Chi expressing that his brother Fang Cun had high talent, even higher than his own, but since Fang Chi was already on the cultivation path and destined to wander far, nearly cut off from worldly life, with no one to care for their parents at home, he hadn’t allowed Fang Cun to join the academy. Instead, Fang Cun remained as a mortal in the clan to serve their parents in the elder brother’s stead.

This was indeed the situation in the Fang Family known to outsiders.

Fang Chi had shown exceptional talent from a young age and stood out early on, while Fang Cun was seventeen by this time and still staying at home.

Based on Fang Chi’s reputation and status, joining the academy should have been very simple for Fang Cun. Even at White Xiang Academy, renowned throughout Willow Lake City, an Elder Mentor had once specially sent someone to invite him and guide him onto the Qi Refining path.

But with the chance right in front of him, Fang Cun refused, claiming it was too hard, and spent his days idling around, wandering the streets.

Even when the Fang Family patriarch spoke to outsiders, he’d only say being a Qi Refiner was too demanding—once you become one, you’re never home half your life. It was enough to have one cultivator in the family, always away with no time to meet. Keeping the younger one around to serve brought comfort to see.

Many people mocked Fang Cun in secret for not seizing the opportunity, thinking he lacked ambition.

What they didn’t know was that Fang Cun actually couldn’t get into the academy!

Talent in Qi Refining was naturally bestowed by heaven!

Humans had a breath of Innate Qi that strengthened their spirit, warded off demonic evils, helped them cross life’s troubles, and distinguished them among all beings.

This breath was what a person—or any living creature—inhaled upon birth, the first breath that stayed in the body, unseen and formless yet real. From this breath, they crossed from chaos to clarity, separating from the womb to themselves. As they grew, learned, passed through youth and maturity, and aged, this breath would leave upon death.

This breath was the essence of a person and the foundation of cultivation.

Because it came inborn, gifted from heaven, it was called Innate!

A Qi Refiner was someone who cultivated using this breath of Innate Qi.

The quality of a person’s talent depended on this: Some were born with strong Innate Qi and were naturally free of illness and sharp-minded.

Others had weaker Innate Qi, so they were born frail and dull-witted.

Because of this breath, a thousand people had a thousand personalities.

And those personalities led to a thousand different fates.

At the beginning of all causes, there was this breath!

Everyone had Innate Qi, so everyone could cultivate.

But those with strong Innate Qi naturally had better talent and were more favored.

For those with weak Innate Qi, cultivation was harder, and they struggled to achieve greatness.

Legend had it that Qi Refiners had a method to test a person’s Innate Qi, measuring it like length!

It was rumored that the strongest Innate Qi was three inches three fen three li—the human limit.

The weakest was simpler: dead people!

In this vast world, wonders abounded. Some people nearing death hadn’t completely lost their Innate Qi. If it lingered outside the body, they might become wandering spirits. If trapped within, they turned into zombie demons or such things.

White Xiang Academy, under the Immortal Palace and dedicated to training Qi Refiners for the Great Xia Dynasty, had its own rules for disciples.

Their standard used three inches as the boundary.

Those above three inches had good talent and could be taught.

Those below three inches lacked enough talent—even if they cultivated, they’d struggle to break life’s tribulations. So, they’d be better off living a simple life.

In many people’s eyes, Fang Cun’s talent should have been excellent. After all, he had a brother with legendary Innate Qi above three inches three. With his brother’s talent so high, his younger brother, born of the same mother and sharing the same blood, naturally couldn’t be far behind. But embarrassingly, Fang Cun knew well his own Innate Qi was likely under three inches.

To test this Innate Qi, he didn’t need to rely only on Qi Refiners’ methods. There was a simplest way:

Hold your breath and run.

When running, that breath hid inside, stirring the organs and dantian. Highly talented people could run a hundred, even two hundred steps while holding their breath. But for those less gifted, they’d get dizzy after a few dozen steps. This showed the strength of the Innate Qi.

As rumors went, there was another country method: cut the neck and see how far the blood spurted.

That was nonsense—don’t test it!

Fang Cun had tried the first method only in private. He found he could hold out for eighty steps.

Later, he trained himself hard to gain a little more, but he only managed eighty-five steps—one more was impossible. He also knew this was his limit and couldn’t be changed. It was like the hundred-meter tests in another life—not everyone could run it under ten seconds no matter how much they practiced.

Some things were decided in the womb; there was no changing them, only accepting fate.

True, to the Fang Family, having such a great elder brother meant entering the academy was easy even with poor talent. In fact, of White Xiang Academy’s over three hundred disciples, many were there despite poor talent because of money.

But Fang Cun never joined and hadn’t started cultivating because of his brother’s advice.

His brother hadn’t explained why; in their letters, he only told Fang Cun not to rush into cultivation. Without any explanation, Fang Cun still decided to listen. Other matters were one thing, but in cultivation, no one was more respected than his genius brother. So Fang Cun believed there must be a deep reason behind telling him not to cultivate.

The problem was here. His brother knew about his talent shortfall.

But in the letter, he said Fang Cun’s talent far surpassed his—that was clearly nonsense.

Was this some overly sentimental encouragement from his brother?

To an ordinary person, it might seem normal. But Fang Cun knew it wasn’t like his brother.

After all, this was a man who for their parents’ birthdays only wished them a long life, never making grand promises.

Filled with this doubt, Fang Cun continued reading.

Slowly savoring it to the letter’s end, he spotted a very simple sentence: “Though the world is harsh, the Dao of Heaven shines bright, and my path won’t be lonely! As the ancients say, feet have their shortfalls and inches their strengths. If younger brother takes interest in the immortal path, you won’t lose to me. You might calm the chaotic sky or suppress evils in endless night. Then I too can return home at ease, bask in the clear sun, and play with cats and dogs. None in this world know joy greater than this.”

From these words, Fang Cun seemed to see his brother Fang Chi’s desire to retire. He seemed tired.

Compared to the whole letter, this ending sounded like casual talk or a complaint to him.

But would someone like Fang Chi complain?

Fang Cun sat at his desk, reading slowly, pondering every word and phrase.

“Though the Dao of Heaven shines bright, my path won’t be lonely…”

“The Dao of Heaven shines bright, my path is not lonely…”

His voice grew softer, only he could hear it.

Fang Cun seemed moved by his brother’s letter, lost in a sad mood. But no one knew that inside, Fang Cun’s heart stirred with endless, fierce waves. He felt a unique emotion from these eight words. In his memory, his brother had used these words with him as a child, not just once.

This wasn’t Fang Chi’s usual phrase—Fang Chi had only said it to him as a young child.

Why was it written in the letter now?

Slowly chanting the eight words, Fang Cun calmed his mind and sank into them. He didn’t know how long it took, but the words began roaring in his heart like thunder, filling his mind and growing louder, like rolling divine lightning.

At last, he couldn’t tell whether he was chanting them or they echoed in his heart on their own.

Everything around slowly faded, leaving endless darkness, as if he’d slipped into a dream.

His desk, the window, even the roof—all vanished. He seemed lost in nothingness.

But around him, endless dull thunder boomed.

If listened to closely, all the thunder was blended together as the heavy, simple syllables: “The Dao of Heaven shines bright, my path is not lonely.” It was like these eight words had turned into deep thunder echoing through the world.

Crack!

Fang Cun tilted his head up as if he saw flashes of light slicing across the sky!

At that moment, it felt like a power was crossing endless time and space, sweeping across the Great Xia, surging toward the Fang Residence.

It was boundless dark divine lightning, webbing the sky like a spider net and dropping from the heavens.

Stroke by stroke, they struck him. Under this endless divine lightning, he was an ordinary, helpless mortal, a mere ant. Each terrifying bolt seemed ready to smash him apart.

Not just him—the whole Fang Residence and everyone there were all torn to shreds.

He faced this without any strength to fight back.

Even Fang Cun felt a great panic rise in his heart, along with a helplessness against this unknown fear.

In that rush, he did two things.

First, he put the inkstone from his desk into an almost invisible insignia at the desk’s top left corner.

Second, he picked up the Old Umbrella at his side and held it up over his head.