Chapter Six: Cultivating Immortality Begins with Training the Body (Part Two)

As he stepped into the Sutra Repository, Mo Bufan quickly realized he had been overthinking things; everyone was absorbed in searching for the cultivation methods and secret manuals they needed, paying no attention whatsoever to the deputy sect master’s husband. Even when his eyes occasionally met those of other disciples, they merely greeted him with a polite nod and a smile. It was obvious they recognized him, but none seemed interested in conversation.

“Truly, cultivators are less entangled by worldly concerns,” Mo Bufan mused inwardly.

From then on, Mo Bufan became a frequent visitor to the Sutra Repository. With his wife's token, he enjoyed unlimited access daily, reading every possible method related to resolving the issue of his cultivation physique. Yet, the results were as clear as they were disappointing: he found nothing.

On the other hand, his understanding of the Immortal Realm deepened considerably.

But the inability to find a solution gnawed at him. In the end, desperation drove him to seek out his warm-hearted second senior brother, Song Yuchen. Yet even more despair awaited him; Song’s reply was that, throughout the entire Immortal Realm, no one could resolve the issue with his physique. He advised Mo Bufan to tend to his health and focus on preparing to have children with his junior sister.

Though Song Yuchen meant no harm with his words, they left Mo Bufan uneasy. He was a son-in-law, yes, but he had no desire to follow the path others had laid out for him. Who, after all, wishes their own life to be orchestrated by others? Since the Immortal Realm held no solution, he would find his own. With that, he took his leave of Song Yuchen and returned to seek his own answers.

Cultivators primarily practiced enlightenment and energy refinement—two foundational principles of all cultivation. Anyone with innate talent in either was considered a genius. This was the source of the host’s former pride; his abilities in these two areas, while not unrivaled, were rare indeed. In less than two months after obtaining the “Celestial Evolution Sutra,” he’d broken through to the Third Heaven, a pace that rivaled even the sect’s number one prodigy, Song Yuxuan.

But now, continuing to cultivate was futile—his body simply could not retain spiritual energy.

“If the cultivation world cannot explain the reason for my physical condition, perhaps science can shed some light,” Mo Bufan thought, tilting his head.

It’s often said that the body is the foundation of all endeavors. The host’s physical condition was hardly robust; perhaps, he reasoned, the issue wasn’t that his body could not store spiritual energy, but that it refused to do so—a kind of autonomic self-protection. Maybe, with a heightened self-preservation instinct, his body knew that retaining too much spiritual energy would be harmful, so it subconsciously expelled it.

In that case, he could only blame his body’s inability to keep up with his potential.

With this in mind, Mo Bufan resolved to shift his training focus to strengthening his body. As for enlightenment and energy refinement, he would take those one step at a time. He had already tried every traditional method; there was no need to repeat them. Instead, he crafted his own physical training regimen. Whether it worked or not, enhancing his constitution could only be beneficial.

No sooner said than done. The very next day, Mo Bufan devised a training plan: for the first few days, he would keep the intensity low—just jogging in the courtyard and climbing up and down the 4,000-meter-high Celestial Maiden Peak once daily.

The first day left his legs aching unbearably.

The second day, he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

By the third, the pain had begun to subside.

Ten days later, the pain was gone, and his physical condition had noticeably improved. He set about planning the next stage: running with weights.

He fashioned two five-pound sandbags, tied them to his legs, and ran up and down the mountain.

Half a month later, the sandbags doubled in weight.

As his training grew more intense, so too did his limits. He discovered that the closer he pushed his body to its threshold, the better he felt after recovering. And perhaps it was just his imagination, but he sensed a faint increase in his internal spiritual energy.

Encouraged by this psychological effect, Mo Bufan pushed his training to new extremes. Where once he ran with sandbags, now he carried a fifty- or sixty-pound stone, refusing to stop until he collapsed from exhaustion.

After a month of such grueling practice, Mo Bufan finally gave in and took some of the potent elixirs his senior brothers had given him. His fourth senior sister had said these pills would strengthen his body; he doubted she would deceive him.

“Whether it works or not, I’ll try it. After all, an immortal pill shouldn’t be harmful,” Mo Bufan decided, swallowing a “Golden Wind Jade Dew Pill” before his morning run.

The pill dissolved instantly into a surge of warmth that coursed through his body, filling him with indescribable vigor. But the relief was fleeting; soon enough, his accursed body began to expel the medicinal energy, the warmth dissipating through his limbs and bones.

Cursing under his breath, Mo Bufan wasted no time, sprinting with all his might. Increased blood flow would, he reasoned, speed up absorption of the medicine. No matter how much he could take in, any improvement was welcome.

His desperate exertion paid off; the medicinal energy volatilized more slowly, and he could distinctly feel it coursing through his meridians. Delighted, he ran all the harder.

Having discovered the effect of these medicines on his body, Mo Bufan made pill consumption a daily part of his regimen.

From that day on, a peculiar figure became a familiar sight in the Celestial Mystery Sect. While other disciples devoted themselves to enlightenment and energy refinement, Mo Bufan could be seen staggering about with a massive stone on his back, training his body with reckless abandon.

He really was gambling with his life.

The elders of the Celestial Mystery Sect were the first to notice something amiss. At first, they assumed Mo Bufan had finally understood the importance of strengthening his body, preparing himself for fatherhood. But soon, they realized this was something different.

They had seen people train before, but never to such extremes. Each day, Mo Bufan would start his ascent with a brisk pace, but by halfway up, his steps turned sluggish and shaky, his legs visibly trembling and threatening to give out. Yet, even on the verge of collapse, he persisted to the summit.

At the top, he would drop the stone and collapse like a dead dog, only to pull out another restorative pill, swallow it, and lie gasping for breath before unsteadily rising to his feet.

Mo Bufan was already notorious in the Celestial Mystery Sect, but this spectacle made him a veritable legend. Many disciples came just to witness the oddity firsthand.

Mo Bufan hadn’t expected his training to cause such a stir and found it all a bit exasperating. Still, he couldn’t be bothered to care. The commotion of his wedding had been far greater, and he hadn’t so much as blushed. Besides, none of them understood that this, too, was a form of cultivation.

Most importantly, he was now certain that his method was correct—he could feel, undeniably, the increase of spiritual energy within him. This was no illusion.

He was on the right path!

...

“Has this guy lost his mind? Even if he wants children, there’s no need to go to such extremes. Does he expect to produce something extraordinary?” Song Yuchen pondered, watching Mo Bufan train whenever he had the chance.

“He truly has the makings of an emperor’s father. If he’s so determined, as his senior brother, I can’t just stand by,” Gai Nie, observing Mo Bufan’s efforts, was genuinely moved. “Brother-in-law, just wait—I’ll craft you even better treasures.”

“That idiot. I really misjudged him. He’s not cultivating properly at all, just obsessed with that nonsense,” Song Yuxin muttered angrily. Glancing at Song Yuchen’s peak, she snorted, “Men truly only think with their lower halves.”

...

At the summit, Song Yuxuan opened his eyes from meditation, extending his spiritual sense. He was irritated to discover many disciples peering around his training grounds. “These disciples grow more unruly by the day,” he remarked with a frown.

Just then, he sensed a staggering figure—a man clad in training clothes, a massive stone strapped to his back, gasping and climbing the mountain. Song Yuxuan scrutinized the sweat-soaked, determined, grimacing face, which seemed oddly familiar. In a flash, he recalled the man’s identity and muttered, “What on earth is he doing?”

With that, Song Yuxuan stood, took a step, and instantly appeared before Mo Bufan. Wrinkling his nose at the heavy scent of sweat, he asked with a frown, “What are you doing?”