Journey to the West: The Immortal Clan Begins by Feeding Monkeys at Five Elements Mountain

Chapter 214 The Old Farmer's Merit, the Path of Talismans Blocked

Jiang Yi couldn't figure out whether this skill of controlling one's breath came out of thin air or was originally hidden within him.

He felt that this method was natural and effortless, as if he had already imprinted this idea into his bones, and even his breathing carried that familiar rhythm.

I won't delve into the details right now; taking advantage of this clear and refreshed state of mind, I'll change my thoughts again.

The gentle energy in his dantian moved in response to his thought. He gently twisted it into a thin thread, which left the palace of kidney water and flowed upstream to explore the location of heart fire.

The heart belongs to the fire element.

Hidden within is a hidden, restless flame, usually unseen, but once the blood and qi surge, it is like boiling tar, with raging flames, making it extremely difficult to tame.

In the past, he tried to flush it away with air, but this was like trying to extinguish fire with water. Not only did it have no effect, it caused the fire to swell even more.

But things are different now.

That wisp of energy carried the coolness of newly formed kidney water, soft and boneless, yet extremely measured, neither forcing its way in nor suppressing it.

It was like a thin icy thread, quietly brushing past the edge of that raging flame, gently touching it.

With just this slight touch, the ball of fire trembled slightly.

Immediately, as if a hole had been opened, a wisp of dryness, as thin as a hair, was peeled out.

The moment that wisp of restlessness left, it was drawn by the energy line, flowing smoothly into the cool sensation within the body, instantly dissolving without a trace.

Jiang Yi closed his eyes, and the joy in his heart spread like ripples.

The contrast between cold and heat, yin and yang, merged within his body, subtly resonating with the grandeur of heaven and earth.

He took a deep breath, feeling an unprecedented sense of exhilaration in his chest.

Jiang Yi, still not satisfied, guided the increasingly refined aura to the liver (wood), lungs (metal), and spleen (earth) in sequence.

It may be like a spring breeze and rain, gently combing through the stagnant wood in the liver; or like autumn frost sweeping away the leaves, cleansing away the accumulated metal in the lungs; or like thick soil covering the earth, slowly nourishing the qi in the spleen.

One place, one refinement; one breath, one transformation.

After circulating through all five internal organs, I felt much lighter.

When the Qi Sea (energy center) is clear and bright, the spirit and soul also become clear and transparent.

In the past, my spiritual practice was like stagnant water, but now it seems as if a clear spring has seeped in, causing slight ripples.

That feeling of exhilaration circulated through my internal organs several times before gradually dissipating.

But as the heat subsided, a chill remained in my chest.

This breathing technique came about in a strange way.

I can't explain why, it just feels natural.

Like breathing, like drinking water, it seems as if a deity is secretly guiding us, yet there is no trace to be found.

If it were anyone else, they would probably be overjoyed at this opportunity and would simply bury themselves in cultivation.

But Jiang Yi was different.

Jiang Yi is the head of the family, and he has the responsibility not only for himself, but also for the entire family, young and old.

As I closed my eyes, several faces appeared one after another.

He walked this path for decades, until his bones felt heavy and his breath felt sluggish.

Now, he finally sees a ray of light, but it shines only on him.

That heavy feeling swirled in his heart a few times, but he eventually suppressed it little by little.

It's neither Heaven's fault nor anyone else's.

If the heart is greedy, blessings will be shallow.

We are fortunate to have this glimmer of hope; it is already a blessing from heaven. If we were to ask for a ready-made magic formula to pass on to future generations, we would truly be disliked by heaven.

Jiang Yi calmed his mind, no longer caring about how much of the turbid energy he had refined, nor about what lay ahead.

He breathed softly, letting his entire being sink into the rise and fall of his breath.

Between breaths, he secretly compared the text with the old one, carefully proofreading it.

In the past, breathing exercises allowed the breath to flow freely; it was "I" who controlled the "breath."
But things are different now; we are of one mind and share the same ideals, without any distinction between us.

When a thought arises, the breath moves, like the wind entering the forest, like a fish entering the water.

Naturally beautiful, without any artificial embellishment.

The differences are as subtle as dust, yet a single step can lead to a world apart.

That kind of mysterious feeling is indescribable and cannot be written down.

All he could do was repeatedly and deeply engrave the flow of thoughts from dispersion to gathering and from gathering to dispersion in his heart.

He doesn't know how many times he'll have to try before he can find a viable path;
I wonder how much true skill this painstaking effort will ultimately yield.

It's just that the obsession in my heart won't let go.

The days just slipped by like that.

The old locust tree outside the window, its leaves turn green then yellow, fall, and then grow back.

Jiang Yi's body was already fine, and his mind was clear, just like an ordinary person.

But in the last few months, he seems to have been bewitched.

At dawn and dusk, he never left his room, spending most of his time on his bed and in front of his meditation cushion.

Without speaking or moving, simply focus on regulating your breath.

To onlookers, it looked like he was practicing spiritual cultivation.

But Jiang Yi knew in his heart that this was more like someone going against him.

He insisted on dismantling that naturally perfect breathing technique, breaking it down inch by inch, and then piecing it back together strand by strand.

This skill is a hundred times more difficult than refining turbid energy.

When I close my eyes, a thousand thoughts seem to rush out.

When I opened my eyes, my pen fell on the paper, but only a few dry words remained, not even able to touch the edge of the moon's shadow.

The drafts on the desk were piled up and burned, then piled up again.

There were still traces of ink in the ashes, like an obsession in one's heart that can never be completely eradicated.

After months of struggling, I finally managed to sort things out and manage to write down a few pages.

His writing was obscure, mostly consisting of esoteric terms like "focusing the mind," "sinking the breath," and "seemingly there or not there," which even made him frown when he read it.

That afternoon, Liu Xiulian was sewing needles by the window.

The light and shadow slanted, falling on the thread at her fingertips, creating a play of light and shadow.

Jiang Yi suddenly said, "Put down what you're doing and come here."

Liu Xiulian looked up and saw his serious expression, so she put down her needlework as instructed and sat down on the futon opposite him.

"Do as I say."

Jiang Yi's voice was low and slow, "Let the air out, and let it out again... not with force, but 'let it out,' until you feel you can't let it out any more."

Liu Xiulian followed his instructions to regulate her breathing, but after only a few attempts, her brow furrowed slightly. "I feel a bit tight in my chest."

"Then let's slow down."

He pondered for a moment, then took a breath and said, "Don't think about 'sinking,' think of yourself as a feather falling from the sky."

"It seems... I managed to grab it a little, but then it slipped away."

"Don't rush, try again."

Every word and every breath, every trial and error.

She said her lower back was sore, so he stopped writing, frowned, and crossed out and changed a few words on the paper.

She said again, "The anger has dissipated," and he changed his words and metaphors to lead her to start over.

A breeze blew through the window, causing the curtains to sway slightly.

The only sound in the room was the rise and fall of breaths, like two people walking side by side in the dark night, each groping for the same invisible path.

The cicadas outside the window have fallen silent, replaced by the soft chirping of autumn crickets.

And so, several months passed.

Jiang Yi's cultivation level remained almost unchanged; the small amount of turbid energy he refined each day was less than half of the mental energy he consumed.

But the few pages on the table were revised and added to again and again, gradually taking shape.

Time has passed, and the old locust tree leaves have all fallen.

He didn't finish his last stroke until the first frost appeared on the bare branches in the courtyard, and then he let out a long breath.

The ink on that thin book was still damp.

It's not some profound method, nor can it be called a true secret.

It was merely a few insights that he painstakingly extracted from his body through a stroke of luck and with his old bones.

He summoned Jiang Xi and Liu Zi'an.

Both of them were practitioners, and they were extremely familiar with the breathing techniques passed down from their ancestors. However, they were also stuck at a certain threshold.

Liu Zian is meticulous; he reads carefully, scrutinizing every word.
Jiang Xi, however, was impatient with all of this. She quickly skimmed through the text and then closed her eyes to try it out. In less than half an hour, the two of them opened their eyes one after the other.

His brows couldn't hide his surprise and joy.

"Father-in-law," Liu Zi'an spoke first, his voice filled with sincerity.

“In the past, it was difficult to draw out the energy, but now it is as easy as going with the flow, and it is much easier than half as easy.”

Jiang Xi smiled brightly, her eyes sparkling.
"Dad, your method is much more effective than the old one we use at home!"

Jiang Yi listened quietly, his expression calm.

Hearing the words "miraculous," he smiled inwardly.

Laugh at yourself, and laugh at the empty fame of this world.

The things in this booklet are nothing more than shadows he sketched by following the traces of his breath.

No matter how similar a shadow may be, it is still just a shadow.

Without that spark of inspiration, it ultimately falls short by half a step.

That perfect harmony of mind and spirit, as seamless as an arm or finger, cannot be fully described in just a few dry pages of text.
If we were to truly depict that "true meaning"...

Given his current physical condition, it's really asking too much of him to grasp the essence of heaven and earth.

This is the limit.

He remained silent.

Jiang Xi smiled and leaned closer: "Father, such a wonderful method should be given a name, right? What would be a good name?"

"Name?"

Jiang Yi looked up, his gaze passing over her smile and landing on the newly turned winter field outside the window.

"What ingenious method?" he waved his hand dismissively.

“Your father, I’ve toiled in the fields my whole life, I’m just an old farmer. Let’s call him ‘Old Farmer Gong’.”

His daughter smiled, and Liu Zi'an bowed his head in response.

The two men's expressions were filled with genuine respect.

At that moment, the weight on Jiang Yi's heart finally lifted.

Although this method is crude and may not be considered sophisticated, it is still a viable path.

The next morning, class started as dawn was breaking.

Mist hung under the eaves of the ancestral hall, making the bluestone slabs damp.

The younger generation sat cross-legged, waiting to hear the story.

Jiang Yi waved his hand and said that he would not be giving a lecture today.

He took out several thin books from his sleeve and handed them to Jiang Jin, who was standing at the front.

The ink varies in shade, indicating that it was copied overnight.

"I've forgotten all the old breathing techniques. From now on, I'll practice this one."

The younger generation looked at each other, not daring to utter a sound.

As the fog dissipated, the morning light gently fell on the few thin books, as if adding a layer of shimmering light to them.

Jiang Yi handed over a few more books to Jiang Liang.

“Take these for the younger generation who are still out there,” he said flatly.

"Tell them that this is a new method the family has come up with, and it might be useful."

"As for whether one is willing to learn or whether the learning will be effective, that is up to each individual's fate."

Jiang Liang accepted the booklet, and with a flicker of his figure, he vanished as a wisp of light.

Jiang Yi turned around and continued to explain the new method to the younger generation in the hall.

The conversation continued until the sun began to set, and the people in the ancestral hall gradually dispersed.

At this moment, Jiang Liang's soul reappeared from the void.

"Father, the booklets have all been delivered."

Jiang Yi hummed in response, without even lifting his eyelids.

Jiang Liang paused, a barely concealed smile on his face, and then said:
"As soon as Feng'er and Rui'er got their hands on it, they couldn't wait to open it."

"Everyone says that the 'Old Farmer's Kung Fu' that you've developed this time is much more effective than the old breathing method."

Jiang Yi nodded slowly.

The glimmer of light had barely appeared when it was suppressed by a wisp of doubt.

"That kid Feng'er," he said softly, "why hasn't he achieved both life and death yet?"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a hint of calculating.

Jiang Feng is the eldest grandson of the third generation of the Jiang family. Judging by his age, he is in his early thirties this year.

In terms of natural talent, he is one of the best among his own family members.

In terms of opportunity, it is something that others can only dream of.

With the prestigious name of the Celestial Masters sect behind them, they are legitimate direct disciples.

He also became the son-in-law of the Dragon Palace of the West Sea, which provided him with an even stronger backing.

There is no shortage of methods, no shortage of elixirs, and no shortage of blessed lands.

With so many benefits piling up, anyone would have taken the opportunity to overcome that hurdle.

But to this day, not a single piece of good news has come, and Jiang Yi is naturally suspicious.

Upon hearing this, Jiang Liang could only manage a wry smile.

He sighed, his breath so light it almost dissipated in the wind.

"This matter... is a long story."

He paused, as if choosing his words, or perhaps pondering a past event:

"Father also knows that Feng'er is following the orthodox path of the Celestial Masters, cultivating life with elixirs and cultivating the mind with talismans, and neither can be lacking."

"That kid was born with a love for tinkering with alchemy. Years ago, my elder brother gave him a scroll of alchemical formulas, and he has diligently studied them over the years, so he can be considered to have reached the pinnacle of alchemy and life cultivation."

"However, the art of talismans is not so smooth."

Jiang Liang shook his head, his tone tinged with regret:
"Feng'er wasn't particularly interested in the skills of making cinnabar and yellow paper to begin with."

"Back then, I had only learned a little bit of the basics by the time I left Heming Mountain."

"Even if you draw those few protective talismans a thousand or ten thousand times, how can you possibly achieve enlightenment and see your true nature?"

At this point, Jiang Liang's expression grew even more somber.

"Originally, this would have been fine."

"Although he was neglected, he still retained the title of being a direct disciple of the Celestial Master. He also still had some relationship with the masters in the mountains."

"If you really want to advance, there are always ways to learn a few more advanced talisman techniques."

But fate had other plans.

"That year there was a severe drought. Lao Jun Mountain prayed for rain and won the hearts of the people. The Celestial Masters sect lost face and suffered a great loss."

“Since then, the mountain gates have been sealed off, and we have not been involved in the world.”

He shrugged, looking helpless: "This mountain closure has even blocked Feng'er's path."

"Whether you want to go up the mountain to ask for a talisman or send a letter, you can't find a way."

"Without the aid of talismans, his cultivation level is stuck, unable to advance or retreat."

After hearing this, Jiang Yi simply sat quietly and didn't utter a sound for a long time.

How could a disciple of the Celestial Master be unable to contact his own sect?

If this gets out, even a three-year-old would laugh.

Jiang Yi knew in his heart that the root of the problem was not in Heming Mountain, but in Laojun Mountain.

It wasn't Feng'er, but his mother, who was famous in Laojun Mountain back then.

In that open and covert struggle back then, the Celestial Masters sect lost face and popular support, and to this day they don't even dare to open their mountain gates.

This resentment is still lingering in the air.

Even if those teachers and officers at Heming Mountain had a deep bond with Feng'er, who would dare to get involved in this mess?
Ultimately, it was nothing more than a battle of wits between powerful figures in the heavens, which resulted in innocent bystanders being caught in the crossfire.

Jiang Yi could only sigh inwardly.

We don't possess any high-level talismans that can enlighten the divine and reveal one's true nature.

If we were to take a different path and have Feng'er start all over again on the road of "studying to enlighten the mind," that would be an even more foolish approach.

If the alchemy is completed and the life cultivation is perfected, wouldn't all the hard work of the past twenty years become a waste if one were to change course halfway through?
He looked out the window and saw that only two leaves remained on the old locust tree branch, which twirled and fell loosely in the wind.

For a time, it truly became an intractable knot.

(End of this chapter)