Tokyo: Proving one's position from behind the scenes

As night falls, the lights of Hoshimiya Inari Shrine illuminate the newly expanded approach to the shrine.

Vermilion lanterns hang from wooden pillars beside the stone fox statue, one every few steps, stretching from the torii gate all the way to the steps in front of the main hall. The bulbs inside the lanterns emit a warm yellow light, which becomes soft and gentle after passing through the washi paper lampshade, shining on the newly paved gravel road like moonlight that has been sifted through before falling.

Akira Nagayama sat cross-legged on the tatami mat in his room, which was on the second floor of the shrine's office. The room was newly built, with sliding windows facing the small courtyard behind the shrine. Several bamboo stalks that had just been transplanted were planted in the courtyard, their leaves swaying gently in the night breeze, casting shadows on the paper windows as if someone outside was slowly tracing something with their fingers.

He closed his eyes, his hands resting naturally on his knees, palms facing upwards. Within his dantian, the wisp of golden magical power had been nurtured for several months since the early stages of Qi Refining. From a faint spark that could be extinguished at any moment, it had transformed into a slowly rotating golden vortex that filled his entire dantian, like molten bronze slowly churning in a crucible, carrying the cool, ethereal quality of moonlight shining on the surface of bronze.

The cultivation path of "Yu Gui Zhao Shen Jing" operated automatically within his body. The magical power started from the dantian, flowed along the meridians to the limbs and bones, and then gathered back to the dantian, completing a great cycle. He had repeated this process countless times, so much so that he was so familiar with it that he did not need to deliberately guide it. The magical power would naturally flow along the predetermined path like water flowing downhill.

But today is different.

As Yongshan Ming practiced his cultivation technique, spiritual energy was stirring.

Compared to the stagnant, lifeless atmosphere of the previous area, the spiritual energy of Adachi Ward—no, the entire Tokyo region—was now flowing in an extremely slow but undeniably present manner. The flow was very weak, so weak that any practitioner with a legitimate lineage from a previous life wouldn't have paid it any attention, but compared to the complete stillness of months ago, it was a world of difference.

In the direction of the Arakawa River, the Water Spirit Stream, like an extremely thin undercurrent, extends from the location of Ayase's drab three-story building, slowly spreading along the course of the river, facing Yokosuka from afar.

The shrine itself is another source; the aura of wood element spreads outward from the main hall, verdant and warm, like the roots of a large tree slowly extending in the soil. The characteristics of [Well Wood] dictate that this diffusion will not be rapid, but will be very persistent; with each inch it extends outward, the roots penetrate deeper. Every day, Hoshimiya Ei practices the "Flourishing Plant Mantra" within the shrine, and combined with the [Oni Metal] ritual aura formed by the prayers and reverence of worshippers, the two auras intertwine and merge around the main hall, forming a small, slowly growing aura node.

The traces of the Fire Virtue Spirit Aura in Adachi Ward have not completely dissipated. Nobuko Yoshida awakened the [Beak Fire] destiny, like a cluster of embers that refuse to be extinguished, continuously emitting faint heat in the spiritual aura.

Three sources, three images: water, wood, and fire.

With the addition of Nagayama Akira's own Metal element and the Earth element catfish that was released, the Five Elements have been gathered.

He took a deep breath and focused his senses back into his dantian. A golden vortex slowly rotated within his dantian, each rotation drawing a tiny wisp of spiritual energy from the surrounding spiritual atmosphere. The spiritual atmosphere of this world was still stagnant, but it was no longer a dead pool. There was flow, temperature variation, and fluctuation within it. Although it was far from reaching the surging power of a great river in his previous cultivation era, it was at least a pool of living water beginning to ripple.

enough.

Yongshan Ming formed hand seals and focused his mind deep into his dantian. The cultivation path of the "Yu Gui Zhao Shen Jing" clearly appeared in his consciousness, with the precise location of every meridian and acupoint. His magical power began to accelerate, transforming from a slow circulation into a golden torrent that rushed along the meridians at high speed.

The golden cyclone in his dantian began to contract.

The energy begins to collapse inward from its full state in the dantian, with the light at the edges converging towards the center. The volume of the vortex decreases while its density increases. The feeling is like a ball of compressed cotton, constantly shrinking under external pressure, while the internal fibers begin to entangle and twist, becoming increasingly firm.

The air was compressed to the size of a fist and then stopped.

Then, a more solidified golden point appeared at the center of the cyclone, and the way the entire cyclone operated changed. Before, the cyclone drove the magic power to operate, but now that golden point was pulling the cyclone to rotate, like a tiny star, with the surrounding gaseous magic power as its nebula.

Mid-stage of Qi Refining.

Golden light appeared on Nagayama Akira's body, but unlike the cold, moonlight-like gleam on bronze when he channeled Qi into his body, this time the golden light was more solid and deeper, like an extremely thin layer of gold foil applied to his skin. As the golden light flickered, divine and ghostly voices rose from the void, clearer than when he channeled Qi, closer to the sound of bells and chimes, distant and resonant, like the evening bells echoing from a very, very distant temple.

He opened his eyes.

The breakthrough went even more smoothly than he had anticipated. Although the spiritual energy of this world was thin, the five elements had already gathered, and the images were mutually influencing each other, forming an incomplete but indeed functioning cycle of the five elements. Wood generates fire, fire generates earth, and earth generates metal—although the earth-element loach in the Arakawa River was still growing, the image of [Stomach Earth] had already connected with the entire spiritual energy network through the confluence of water and earth. A faint earth-element aura seeped out from the silt at the bottom of the river and merged into the flow of spiritual energy.

Metal generates water, and water generates wood. An incomplete cycle with only four elements, and the virtue of earth is growing, is forming, but it is enough to transform the disturbance of spiritual energy from linear to network-like, from a unidirectional flow to mutually surging tides.

Akira Nagayama stood up, walked to the window, and pushed open the paper window.

A night breeze blew in from the courtyard, carrying the fresh scent of nandina leaves. There was no moon in the sky; thick clouds obscured the entire expanse. But the lanterns within the shrine grounds were still lit, their warm yellow light stretching from both sides of the approach to the torii gate, outlining a clear band of light in the night.

His fingers tapped lightly twice on the windowsill.

The deduction surfaced in his mind—given the current level of spiritual energy activity, he could directly advance to Foundation Establishment if he wished. The threshold between Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment wasn't a particularly high obstacle for him, given his past life's Purple Mansion Dao Wisdom. Although the spiritual energy in this life was far inferior to his previous one, the Five Elements cycle had already begun to take shape, and with each additional day of operation, the tide of spiritual energy grew stronger. When the Five Elements truly converged and the cycle completely closed, breaking through to Foundation Establishment would be a natural progression.

What needs to be done now is to continue training cultivators and make the spiritual disturbances even more intense.

Akira Nagayama closed the window, sat back down on the tatami mat, and closed his eyes.

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At the bottom of the Arakawa River, deep in the silt.

Here it was complete, absolute darkness. The river itself filtered out most of the light, and the silt completely swallowed the last glimmer of light. In this underwater world devoid of any light, sight was utterly meaningless.

But it does not require vision.

Its body was buried in the silt, with only its head slightly protruding above the surface. The river flowed past it, carrying silt, decaying organic matter, microorganisms, and all sorts of unidentifiable things. Its mouth opened and closed, then opened again, then closed again. With each opening and closing, large amounts of turbid river water and everything suspended in it were swallowed into its belly.

The silt sinks to the bottom of its belly, while organic matter is broken down, crushed, absorbed, and transformed in its digestive system. The indigestible substances—plastic fragments, metal shards, and glass shards—are wrapped in a clump of mucus, regurgitated from its mouth, and sink into the silt.

It is not picky about food and will accept anything offered.

This feeling is completely new. Before the Qi enters the body, the world is a chaotic, blurry, boundless gray fog. When hungry, it twists its body to find something to eat; when full, it burrows back into the mud and remains motionless. When danger comes, it runs; if it can't run, it burrows; if it can't burrow in, it dies; if it doesn't die, it mates during its mating season.

It's different now.

It became aware of its own existence, knowing that it was a catfish, and even more so, the strongest catfish, the "king" of catfish.

The inner core, transformed from the "demon's finger," within its dantian was slowly pulsating, each pulsation sending a wisp of warm magical power throughout its body. The magical power circulated slowly along its internal meridians—rough, barely formed meridians—from the dantian to its head, from its head to its back, from its back to its tail, and then back to the dantian.

With each cycle, it can feel its body more clearly.

Its body length is increasing, from less than the length of an adult's palm at first, to nearly three meters now, and its color has changed from black to a dark brown with a dark sheen.

It is growing, eating, digesting, and becoming bigger, longer, and stronger.

It emerged from the mud, its body stretching out in the river. Now, as it swims, its entire body resembles a brown wave, flowing segment by segment from head to tail.

The world at the bottom of the river was crystal clear to it. Changes in the water flow told it that there was a block of cement submerged ahead, its surface covered with a layer of algae and snails. Chemical signals in the water told it that a group of small fish were foraging upstream; they were small in size but numerous. Changes in the density of the silt told it that there was a layer of soft mud not far to its left, containing a large number of aquatic insect larvae and worms.

It swam in that direction, every muscle in its body working in coordination with the magic to transform the resistance of the water into propulsion.

It found the layer of soft mud, plunged its head into the silt, and then its entire body followed. The silt parted on either side of its body and then closed behind it. It moved through the mud, its mouth opening and closing constantly, swallowing the silt and everything in it.

Then it felt a vibration.

The vibration came from above the water's surface, becoming muffled and indistinct after being conducted through the river. It was a sound, but it didn't know what it was. It stopped moving, raised its head slightly, and extended its senses in the direction of the vibration.

The vibration sounded again, this time clearer, like something heavy falling onto the water.

It ignored it and continued eating.

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On the banks of the Arakawa River, two people were night fishing, sitting in folding chairs with their fishing rods in hand.

A night breeze blew across the river, carrying the faint, fishy smell unique to the water. The luminous float on the fishing rod drifted on the surface, its greenish light swaying gently with the ripples.

The speaker was a middle-aged man wearing a dark blue windbreaker, with short hair that revealed a patch of lighter-colored skin behind his ear. His fishing rod was propped up on a rod holder, and he was holding a can of coffee in his hand.

"It won't work tonight, there's no opening, the water flow is wrong."

"Every time you can't catch anything, you say the water flow is wrong."

The other one was younger, wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt, the hood off, his hair a little messy from the night wind. He held his fishing rod in his hand, the float bobbing on the water in front of him, motionless for a long time.

"You don't understand." The middle-aged man took a sip of coffee. "The Arakawa River's current is regulated. Tonight, the current is faster and the water is muddier than usual. Fish won't bite at times like this."

He paused, placed the coffee can on the armrest of his chair, and gestured towards the river.

"Look over there."

The young man looked in the direction he was pointing. The river was a blurry gray-black in the night, and the lights on the opposite bank cast several broken, orange-yellow reflections on the water, stretching and shrinking in the ripples. He looked for a few seconds but couldn't see anything special.

"What are you looking at?"

"The water surface," the middle-aged man said in a low voice, "has been bubbling in the middle of the river since just now."

The young man squinted to look closely.

It is indeed bubbling.

It wasn't the kind of scattered bubbles stirred up by a school of fish swimming by, but a continuous, fairly large mass of bubbles rising from the riverbed, bursting on the surface with extremely faint popping sounds. The area of ​​the bubbles was about the size of a tatami mat, concentrated in the middle of the river, slightly to the left. The bubbles varied in size, some as big as a fist, others as small as a grain of rice, all surging towards the surface together.

"Is there an undercurrent down there?" the young man asked.

"I've been fishing in this river for over a decade, and I've never seen bubbles like that before." The middle-aged man put down his coffee can, stood up, and walked to the edge of the embankment.

The bubbles on the water surface suddenly stopped.

Then, the water in the middle of the river suddenly bulged upwards, as if something enormous was rapidly rising from the riverbed, pushing the entire surface of the water upwards into an arc-shaped bulge. The bulge lasted for a second or two before bursting open.

A huge, brown spine arched out from beneath the water.

Its back was at least as long as an adult's outstretched arms, and its dark brown color gave it a somber sheen in the light of the lights on the opposite bank. As its back arched above the water, the river rushed down, splashing white droplets across the surrounding surface.

Then my back sank down again.

From the moment it emerged from the water to the moment it completely sank, the entire process took no more than three seconds. The surface returned to its original state, leaving only ripples spreading outwards and a large patch of bubbles at the center of the ripples that hadn't completely dissipated.

The middle-aged man stood there, the coffee can in his hand had fallen to the ground at some point, and the coffee spilled out of the can, seeping into the cracks in the cement of the embankment.

The young man stood up as well. His fishing rod slipped from his hand, the tip striking a rock on the edge of the embankment with a sharp sound, but he didn't notice at all.

"What was that... just now?"

The middle-aged man did not answer. His gaze was fixed on the river surface, on the ripples that were gradually disappearing.

The bubbles at the center of the ripples were still rising, a little less dense than before, but still not completely stopped. The bubbles burst on the surface of the water, making a faint sound, as if something deep in the riverbed was breathing slowly and steadily.

"More than a meter." The middle-aged man finally spoke, his voice filled with excitement. "That fish was more than a meter long."

"How big exactly?"

The middle-aged man bent down and picked up the coffee can from the ground. The can was empty, and all the coffee had spilled. He crushed the empty can, making the aluminum sheet crunch.

"Three meters," he said. "At least three meters, a real behemoth."

The night breeze blew across the river, carrying the river's unique fishy smell, and a faint, almost imperceptible aroma, like the warm, sweet, fishy scent of freshly turned soil soaked in water, reminiscent of rotting rice straw.

The bubbles on the river surface finally stopped completely, and the water returned to calm, leaving only the glowing buoy swaying back and forth, its greenish light standing out starkly against the gray-black water.