Cultivation in the Mystic Realm: Secrets Within the Books

For several consecutive days, Ling Yun remained within Yu Xiu-jie's barrier, wholly engrossed in cultivation, paying no heed to the affairs of the outside world. Although Zhao Yu earnestly recommended that he meet the head of the Sihai Group, Ling Yun harbored little goodwill toward the underworld and had even less interest in lofty, high-ranking tycoons. Without much deliberation, he courteously declined the offer. 

Seeing his firm refusal, Chen Feng and Zhao Yu refrained from pressing the matter. They simply left behind their phone numbers with utmost politeness, assuring him that he could reach out should the need arise. As they had to return to the headquarters of the Sihai Group in Beijing, they exchanged a few parting words before taking their leave in haste. 

Zhang Yunfeng, however, was eager to make their acquaintance. To him, the Sihai Group was nothing short of a mythic colossus in the underworld, an existence far beyond his reach as a small-time hoodlum. Unexpectedly, fate had played in his favor—he had not only met but also established a connection with two high-ranking figures of the group. If he could leverage this opportunity, it would be nothing short of a meteoric rise. 

Yet, Ling Yun's outright rejection of a meeting with the Sihai Group's leader extinguished any hope Zhang Yunfeng had of showcasing himself. Fortunately, Chen and Zhao had left their contact information, and to his surprise, they seemed to regard him with some measure of respect. Overjoyed, Zhang Yunfeng's mind whirred with calculations, contemplating how he might build rapport with these two influential figures and ascend to greater heights. 

The sensational case of the missing girls ultimately became an unresolved enigma. The police, having found no substantial leads, chose to close the case, as all five girls were discovered unharmed, save for some physical frailty that required only a period of rest to recover. And so, the matter was left to fade into obscurity. 

With the storm settled, Ling Yun and Zhang Yunfeng made daily visits to the hospital to check on Li Lingling, who was still recuperating in a VIP ward. Though her health had long since recovered, her family remained concerned and continuously provided her with nourishing supplements. As a result, her delicate face had grown noticeably rounder, her cheeks rosy with vitality, making her look all the more endearing. 

Ling Yun remained preoccupied with the matter of the Yin spirit's possession. Each time he visited Li Lingling, he would instinctively take a seat by her bedside, grasp her hand, and activate the barrier to allow Elder Yu's psychic field to inspect her condition. 

To his astonishment, however, not even Yu Xiu-jie's vast experience and formidable psychic powers could detect the slightest trace of the Yin spirit. It was as though it had evaporated under sunlight, vanishing without a single remnant. Faced with this perplexing situation, even Yu had no explanation, though he was certain of one thing—Li Lingling's body was perfectly normal. While Ling Yun remained somewhat uneasy, his teacher's reassurances finally lifted the weight from his heart. 

Li Lingling, deeply touched by his concern, felt her heart flutter. As he sat by her side, holding her hand and speaking to her with gentle warmth, her fair cheeks blushed crimson with shyness. If not for Zhang Yunfeng lingering in the room as an unwelcome third wheel, she might have already flung herself into Ling Yun's arms, seeking solace like a spoiled child. 

Alas, Zhang Yunfeng seemed to have lost all sense of tact at that moment. Not only did he fail to recognize the need to excuse himself, but he also treated the hospital room as his personal dining hall. The fruits, pastries, candies, and drinks brought as gifts for Li Lingling—all the supplements she couldn't finish—became his feast. Watching him devour her treats with reckless abandon, Li Lingling gritted her teeth in fury, scolding him repeatedly as a shameless glutton. "Are you here to visit me or to raid my sickbed for free food?" she fumed. 

Ling Yun could only shake his head with a wry smile. In truth, Zhang Yunfeng had long wanted to step away to grant them privacy, but Ling Yun, firm in his resolve, had no intention of misleading Li Lingling. Since he held no romantic feelings for her, he refused to let her harbor false hope. Deeming it unfair to deceive her, he deliberately played the role of a leader, insisting that Zhang Yunfeng remain in the room with him at all times, without revealing his true intentions. Left with no choice, Zhang Yunfeng had to play along, resigning himself to the role of an unwelcome third wheel. 

During the day, there was little of note. At night, while Ling Yun appeared to be resting in his own bedroom, in reality, he had already entered Yu Xiu-jie's barrier. 

Yu Xiu-jie's first phase of training was deceptively simple—meditation. It was the foundation of an esper's psychic field, the very bedrock of all supernatural abilities. 

Following Yu Xiu-jie's teachings, meditation not only strengthened the psychic field but also refined one's control over it to a minute degree. The practice required absolute mental clarity—emptying one's thoughts and entering a profound state of enlightenment, allowing the psychic field to extend freely and find equilibrium against the forces within the barrier. 

At the beginning, Ling Yun faced only the downward pull of gravity, while his psychic field countered it by lifting his body upward. If the two opposing forces reached perfect balance, he would achieve levitation. However, while floating itself was not particularly difficult, maintaining a precise equilibrium without fluctuation was another matter entirely. He had to ensure that his psychic field countered gravity with just the right amount of force at every moment—too much, and he would rise; too little, and he would fall. It was an exercise in absolute precision, refining his control over every fraction of his power. 

Once he achieved perfect vertical balance, the intensity of gravity increased, forcing him to enhance his power accordingly. And when he had adapted to this level, gravity would begin fluctuating unpredictably, further honing his ability to swiftly adjust his psychic field and maintain equilibrium. 

Of course, meditation was far more than just counteracting gravity. The forces within the barrier did not simply pull downward—they exerted pressure in every direction: up, down, left, right, even from all sides simultaneously. Only when Ling Yun could maintain balance in the face of such multidirectional forces would he be deemed ready to advance to the next stage of training. There were no shortcuts in this process—only through steady, relentless effort could one truly strengthen their psychic field. 

Yet the results were undeniable. Within just three nights of training, Ling Yun could already feel a significant increase in the power and precision of his psychic field—far surpassing the crude methods he had previously used, such as practicing telekinesis with spoons and chopsticks. Moreover, within Yu Xiu-jie's barrier, he sensed that his cultivation speed was astonishingly accelerated, akin to a martial artist not only training rigorously but also consuming miraculous elixirs to enhance his strength. 

Through Yu Xiu-jie's guidance, Ling Yun came to understand the nature of the barrier. It was divided into seven layers. The first layer, he had already witnessed. The second layer was where he underwent his current meditation training. The third layer was designated for combat skill refinement. As for the fourth through sixth layers, they were repositories of Yu Xiu-jie's lifelong mastery—an archive of supernatural techniques, combat experience, and profound insights, a treasure trove beyond measure. However, for now, Ling Yun was not yet qualified to enter them.

The final layer of the barrier contained only Master Yu Xiujie's bewilderment and insights into the elusive and intangible Dao of Heaven. There were no answers, no definitive conclusions—only the confusion and realizations born from countless attempts to grasp the unfathomable. These seven layers of the barrier encapsulated the entirety of Yu Xiujie's wisdom and mastery, the culmination of his life's work, and his greatest creation in the realm of mystical arts. What Ling Yun had yet to realize was that the opportunity to cultivate within this barrier was a privilege countless supernatural beings could only dream of.

The moment Ling Yun heard that the third layer was dedicated to combat training, his eyes immediately lit up, and he eagerly mentioned Chen Feng's unparalleled martial prowess. Although he had always relied on his abilities to triumph, the sheer force behind Chen Feng's kick had left a lasting impression on him. Had he been an ordinary person, that strike alone might have rendered him unconscious on the spot.

Yu Xiujie nodded and explained that, for supernatural beings, hand-to-hand combat was merely a fundamental skill. When they clashed, victory was rarely determined by physical prowess alone; rather, it was a fusion of mystical arts and martial techniques, with the former being the primary factor. A supernatural being who could not wield mystical arts had no hope of survival. The stronger one's abilities, the greater the reliance on such arts in battle.

Without delay, Yu Xiujie led Ling Yun to the third layer of the barrier, the realm of combat training. Through a direct transfer of mental energy, Ling Yun instantly absorbed the intricacies of martial combat—a distilled essence of Chinese kung fu, Western martial arts, and various other fighting styles, carefully refined and perfected. Given Ling Yun's extraordinary physical attributes—his strength, reflexes, and agility already exceeding human limits—he mastered the techniques at an astonishing speed. It was as if he had stepped into a scene from The Matrix, where knowledge was directly uploaded into his mind, allowing him to grasp judo, Muay Thai, and countless other disciplines in an instant.

However, while he now possessed the techniques, he still lacked actual combat experience. To remedy this, Yu Xiujie summoned a faceless specter within the third layer, an opponent for Ling Yun to spar against. Each time Ling Yun defeated the apparition, it would vanish, only to be replaced by a stronger one, ensuring an unending cycle of increasingly challenging battles that would hone his fighting instincts.

Thus, as soon as Ling Yun completed his meditation training, he was immediately thrust into relentless combat, constantly pushing himself against ever-stronger opponents. Every second was precious, and he spared not a moment for rest. Were it not for the extraordinary endurance granted by his supernatural mental energy, which allowed him to forgo sleep, he would have long since collapsed from exhaustion.

Just as Ling Yun felt himself reaching his limits, on the verge of voicing his grievances to his master, Yu Xiujie shook his head and declared that his training speed was still too slow. Without hesitation, he decided to intensify the regimen even further. Ling Yun was left utterly speechless. He swallowed his complaints, along with his sweat and tears, without uttering a single word.

Days turned into weeks.

One bustling afternoon, Ling Yun stepped into a bookstore and made his way to the section dedicated to ancient Chinese history, flipping through volumes of timeworn texts. This was yet another task assigned by Yu Xiujie. A scholar of unparalleled erudition, his teachings naturally encompassed the pursuit of knowledge. After all, within books lay profound truths—those who immersed themselves in countless tomes would inevitably glimpse the boundless wonders of the Dao. At first glance, studying and cultivation seemed unrelated, yet at a certain level, all things converged, their principles interconnected.

Thus, day after day, Ling Yun frequented the largest bookstore in the city, diligently working through the extensive reading list provided by his master. If a book was available, he read it. If not, he moved on to the next. Though ancient texts were often obscure and devoid of entertainment, he adhered strictly to his master's command, gritting his teeth and pressing forward. Initially, the archaic language and dry prose made the experience excruciating, nearly causing him to abandon the endeavor. Yet, after several days, his resistance faded, and he found himself drawn into the words. Slowly, he began to ponder the meanings behind the writings of long-departed sages.

The bookstore's floor manager, a young woman, sat idly at the cashier's counter, watching Ling Yun with growing curiosity. This peculiar young man visited every day, unwavering in his dedication to ancient books. In this modern age, such a sight was rare—especially among the youth. Just as she was lost in thought, the boy suddenly looked up and met her gaze, offering a faint smile. Startled, as if caught peering into his mind, her cheeks flushed crimson, and she quickly averted her eyes.

A strange sense of familiarity surged within Ling Yun. His expression shifted, and he turned sharply—just in time to catch sight of a lone figure stepping out of the bookstore. It was a middle-aged man, utterly unremarkable in appearance, who had just browsed the shelves without purchasing anything before making his way out.

Ling Yun was certain he had never seen this man before. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, that retreating figure stirred an eerie sense of déjà vu deep within him.

He frowned, searching his memories.

Before he had awakened his abilities, he would have dismissed such thoughts without hesitation. But now, after ten days of rigorous training, his perception had sharpened to an almost supernatural degree. His instincts did not deceive him.

He had seen that silhouette before—somewhere.

Then it struck him.

That day in the abandoned factory—when Ma Ping and his gang were scolded by Chen Feng and slunk away in disgrace. The way they turned their backs and walked off.

The resemblance was uncanny.

Though this middle-aged man bore no resemblance to them—his face, build, and height were entirely different—something about his retreating figure exuded the exact same unsettling aura.

A hollow, lifeless presence.

A sensation that made one's very soul recoil in discomfort.

As the man's silhouette was about to disappear into the throng of pedestrians, Ling Yun hesitated for only a fraction of a second before setting the book aside and giving chase.

The young woman at the counter sighed, slightly disappointed. Based on the past few days, this studious youth should have remained for at least two more hours. Yet today, he had left so soon.

Shaking her head, she didn't know why—but this unremarkable young man, who had never spoken a word to her, had left an unexpectedly deep impression.

Without thinking, she walked over to the spot where he had stood moments ago, picked up the book he had just set down, and began to read.

Meanwhile, Ling Yun maneuvered through a maze of streets and alleyways, following the fading trace of the man's presence.

Then, just as he reached a secluded alley—

The figure was gone.

And in that instant—

An overwhelming sense of imminent danger erupted in his mind.