3. Classification of Realms

The fallen Wang Lang was helped up from the ground, gasping for breath. He addressed the crowd, “You… hurry to the other sects and deliver the news. Tell them the new heir of Zhongyun Mountain has embarked on the path of cultivation. Let them… make their decision quickly!”

“Yes, Sect Leader.”

Several voices responded in unison, and the messengers sped out of the village.

Meanwhile, at the granary.

Li Miao kicked open the door, revealing piles of grain within—some stored in burlap sacks, others loose within wooden bins.

Guo’er’s eyes sparkled at the sight of so much food. “So much to eat!” she exclaimed happily.

“Were you hurt just now?” Li Miao set her down.

She shook her head, replying, “No, only a little dizzy from all the spinning.” Then she darted to the largest grain bin, grabbing two handfuls of unhulled rice, her smile bright and crescent-eyed.

“No more eating banana leaves now!” she chirped with delight.

Li Miao smiled knowingly, activating the storage function of his microcosmic ring. In a blink, he collected ten sacks of fresh rice and a considerable amount of grain.

Guo’er was busy inventorying the bounty when she noticed the blue glow flash in his hand, and suddenly the surrounding area was cleared. Curious, she asked, “Uncle, where’s the rice?”

“It’s all in my microcosm now. Let’s go, before they come looking for trouble again.”

“But there’s still so much food here…” Guo’er was reluctant to leave the full granary behind.

Carrying her out, Li Miao explained, “We are not thieves. What we take was bought with gold. If we took all the food, they’d be left with only bark and banana leaves to eat.”

“Oh.” Guo’er replied, half understanding, but still looked back wistfully as they departed.

Under the villagers’ watchful gaze, the two left South Mountain Village, entered the woods, and began their ascent.

Village Chief Wang Lang’s expression was complicated. After a long silence, he muttered, “What was bound to happen has finally come. Xuan Zhenzi, leaving you alive all those years ago—was it right or wrong?”

“Sect Leader, what are you talking about?” a young man asked in confusion.

“Nothing—just old memories.” Wang Lang replied.

Li Miao, oblivious to Wang Lang’s actions after his departure, returned to Zhongyun Mountain. His first task was to retrieve an axe, saw, and other tools from his microcosmic ring—time to chop wood and build a house.

His microcosmic ring held a spherical space of twenty meters in diameter, capable of storing anything lacking vital signs, including intelligent robots.

Despite its capacity, Li Miao’s inventory was modest—some tools and supplies, three pieces of original-energy equipment, and a miniature flyer.

The flyer’s utility was limited; unable to escape planetary gravity, it was nearly useless for transcendent warriors accustomed to interstellar travel.

With his main flyer crashed and his communicator out of range, Li Miao felt marooned on a primitive planet. Until the expeditionary force found him, he could only settle in, gather information about this world, and make plans.

The first step to settling in was, of course, finding shelter. A military tent would suffice, but he had promised Guo’er a house as compensation—he could not break his word.

Chopping wood and processing lumber were unfamiliar tasks, so Li Miao could only imitate what he remembered about building cabins.

By the time he had enough timber, dusk had fallen.

Guo’er’s stomach growled, and the unconscious Xuan Zhenzi awoke.

Li Miao piled the day’s “purchased” grain before Xuan Zhenzi, then went to hunt two wild chickens, cleaned them, stuffed their bellies with rice, wrapped them in banana leaves and clay, and made a rustic version of beggar’s chicken.

Master and disciple had not eaten their fill in ages. The aroma of chicken and rice made their mouths water. As soon as the meal was ready, they devoured it, heedless of the heat.

After eating their fill, the two looked at Li Miao as if gazing at a deity, full of reverence and affection.

Xuan Zhenzi even asked, “Li Miao, are you sent from Heaven to save Zhongyun Mountain?”

Li Miao laughed. “You’re half right. I did come from the sky, but I wasn’t sent by anyone. I stumbled into a wormhole and was transported to this planet.”

His words baffled the pair.

So he clarified, “I can’t return home now. I’d like to stay here for a while—would that be possible?”

“Of course! Li Miao, you can stay as long as you like!” Xuan Zhenzi beamed. With such a “miraculous” guest requesting to stay, he could laugh himself awake from a dream.

Guo’er, however, interjected at the wrong moment, “Master, didn’t you say only disciples of Zhongyun Mountain could live here?”

“You silly girl, what do you know? Li Miao is our honored guest—he can’t be treated like an outsider!” The old man chided her, face calm and voice firm.

Li Miao, recalling the new things he had encountered today, asked, “Elder, could you tell me about cultivators? And was Zhongyun Mountain once a cultivation sect?”

“Li Miao, aren’t you a cultivator yourself? How can you not know?” Xuan Zhenzi replied, puzzled.

In his mind, anyone who could produce “miraculous pills” and chop wood effortlessly must be at least a True Condensation stage cultivator.

But Li Miao shook his head. “I come from a distant place where cultivation isn’t spoken of—so I’d like to learn.”

“I see. Cultivation is a complex matter, but simply put, it’s a journey from weakness to strength.”

Xuan Zhenzi explained patiently.

All things are born with varying strengths, but such differences are not absolute. Heaven grants all beings an equal opportunity—through cultivation and comprehension of the cosmic order, one may draw spiritual energy from nature and strengthen their life force.

Humans, plants, beasts, insects, even the humble mayfly, may elevate their existence through cultivation. This process bears many names: cultivation, demon-cultivation, magic-cultivation, god-cultivation, dao-cultivation, and so forth.

From humble to exalted, from insignificant to mighty, from confusion to clarity—cultivation is the universal solution to all mysteries and difficulties.

Yet the path is arduous. Of ten thousand beasts, perhaps one becomes a demon; of ten thousand humans, maybe not even one becomes a true cultivator.

Both aptitude and perseverance are crucial. Poor aptitude requires extra effort to achieve the same result; without perseverance, even the most gifted will achieve little.

Humans divide the cultivation journey into stages to distinguish strength from weakness.

The first stage is Body Tempering—refining the physical foundation and opening the eight meridians.

Those at this stage are not truly cultivators, for they are scarcely stronger than ordinary folk.

The second stage is Qi Refinement—after the meridians are opened, gathering spiritual energy from nature and assimilating it. Qi Refinement has nine layers, each denser than the last.

Next comes True Condensation—here, cultivators refine essence and energy, open the Purple Mansion, and gain control over water and fire, marking them as true cultivators with extraordinary abilities.

Beyond that is Return to Origin—“Purple Mansion’s energy returns to primordial unity; my fate is mine, not Heaven’s.” Those who reach this step transcend mortal life, can abstain from food, fly, evade death, and survive lightning strikes with equanimity.

Xuan Zhenzi explained that thousands of years ago, Zhongyun Mountain was a renowned cultivation sect in the Eastern Xuan Ancient Kingdom, home to many Return to Origin stage cultivators and even greater masters.

But time passes, seas shift, and people dwindle. The sect declined, its teachings lost, and now only an empty mountain remains.

In fact, twenty years ago, Zhongyun Mountain was not so deserted.

Though faded, it still had several courtyards and dozens of people.

All that changed in a single, wicked raid, reducing the mountain to ashes.

Recalling these events, Xuan Zhenzi’s aged face was etched with grief and fury, yet helplessness prevailed.

Li Miao pondered, then asked, “Was Zhongyun Mountain sacked by the village below?”

“Not one, but six.” The old man sighed.

“One hundred villagers from six settlements, led by a mysterious cultivator, stormed Zhongyun Mountain, seized our scriptures, slaughtered kin and friends, burned our halls, and ruined our sacred peak… I could only hide in the cellar, listening to the cries and screams of my fellow disciples, until the flames consumed all.”

The flickering bonfire reflected in Xuan Zhenzi’s eyes, tears glimmering in their cloudy depths.

“And Guo’er? When did she come to the mountain?” Li Miao asked.

“Guo’er…” Xuan Zhenzi’s spirits fell.

Though rise and fall are natural, for a once-great sect to be ravaged by mortals—he could not help but feel despondent.

After the fire, Zhongyun Mountain was a ruin. He crawled from the ashes, spent days burying his comrades, then wandered the world below like a lost soul.

Twelve years ago, he met Guo’er.

A destitute old beggar found an abandoned infant, and somehow compassion stirred within him.

He brought Guo’er back to Zhongyun Mountain, rebuilt two simple cabins, and the old man and the child lived in the deep mountains for twelve years.

He had tried many times to guide Guo’er on the path of cultivation. Unfortunately, his own abilities were lacking; he was not fit to be a teacher, and her excellent aptitude was wasted.

After finishing his tale, Xuan Zhenzi looked hopefully at Li Miao, hinting, “Li Miao, Guo’er is exceptionally gifted—a promising candidate for cultivation. If guided by a powerful master like you, she could achieve greatness.”

Li Miao chuckled softly.

He understood Xuan Zhenzi’s wish, but he was a transcendent warrior, not a cultivator. Genetic energy and true essence were fundamentally different, and though both required training, teaching across disciplines was impossible.

“Please don’t flatter me. I don’t know the first thing about cultivation, let alone instruct others.”

“You are too modest. Your skill and strength, your ability to store mountains in a mustard seed—surely you’re at least True Condensation stage. I may be humble, but I can see that much.”

“My abilities are not from cultivation. If you want Guo’er to inherit Zhongyun Mountain’s legacy, she should learn your own teachings,” Li Miao replied.

He sympathized with Xuan Zhenzi’s plight, but such matters were not easily solved.

Xuan Zhenzi sighed deeply. “The sect’s legacy was stolen by those villagers. The only remaining technique has extremely high requirements for entry. Without a powerful ally, Guo’er may never cross the threshold.”

“Oh? What kind of technique?” Li Miao asked, curious.

“It’s called ‘Transmigration Lotus Secret Method,’ one of the four superior heart methods passed down by our founder. It’s said that mastery leads to the Lotus Golden Body—undying and imperishable.”

As he spoke, Guo’er ran into the cabin and soon returned, handing Li Miao a roll of pale gold silk.

“Uncle, this is it.”

The silk was thin as cicada wings, rolled up into a small bundle, but unrolled it stretched three or four meters—like a long ancient scroll.

Lotus patterns adorned the background, and neat, elegant script filled the length, its content complex and profound.

After a while, Li Miao felt overwhelmed and shook his head. “No, I don’t understand it myself, let alone teach Guo’er.”

But Guo’er said, “I understand. It says all things are subject to reincarnation, and whatever lives must eventually die. A mayfly lives a day; a transcendent immortal can live ten thousand years, but none escape the prison of the six paths. Each life is like a lotus in the pond—from sprout to flourish, from flourish to wither, then from wither to rebirth—an endless cycle, unless uprooted and annihilated, else never freed.”

The young girl explained the arcane scripture earnestly, her tone serious, leaving Li Miao stunned.

“…And then?” he prompted.

Guo’er replied, “Since the prison cannot be escaped, one must become the most beautiful lotus in the pond. Ordinary people treat one life and death as a cycle; cultivators should treat each thought’s birth and destruction as a cycle. When the thought is born, all phenomena arise; when it is extinguished, all phenomena perish. Reincarnation repeats, like flowers blooming and fading. Life and death are irrelevant, illusion and reality are irrelevant. The only pursuit is eternity.”

Even knowing it was scripture and not her own creation, Li Miao was moved by her recitation.

Whoever devised this method was undoubtedly a remarkable master!

Perhaps their power did not rival the creators of the “Heart of the Universe,” those cosmic-level secrets, but their insight into life was extraordinary.

Li Miao took a long time to recover. Looking at the girl before him—thirteen years old, yet appearing only seven or eight, with big curious eyes—he asked, “Since Guo’er understands the scripture, why not cultivate it herself?”