Data-Driven Daoist

The mirror portal was a cylinder, reaching from the interior part of the clam to the clamshell’s exterior. The surface of the cylinder gave off a smooth, reflective feeling. It was a mirror, with hints of green.

But this cylinder wasn’t connected to anything else.

Unlike the ink-sac that had appeared after his second bloodline awakening, Yu Han didn’t think this cylindrical mirror was something intrinsic to himself. He couldn’t think of it as part of his power.

It had once let a Ghost Dreams Parasitic Fireworm invade.

Or did it?

The mirror appeared only after he had defeated the invader. Before that, the invader had appeared from somewhere, somehow, and had moved around within the solid of the shell as if it was sand. It was as if it had teleported inside of the shell from the get go.

Now that he looked, he could see parts of the otherwise solid shell hollow, as if tiny tunnels had been drilled. The essence there was snapped and broken, and lifeforce slowly encroached to fill it in.

The progress was slow.

There were remnant green flames that halted the healing.

Yu Han rubbed his left forearm with his right hand and felt tiny shivers.

It was good that he looked, otherwise he would’ve been completely blindsided to this hidden… wound? Injury? Backdoor?

How do I mend it? He tried to move his essence and lifeforce. But as he was told before, a body tempering realm cultivator could not consciously and directly control spiritual energy.

Let’s leave it for now.

Yu Han’s gaze moved to his ‘body,’ the mental construct of himself in this dreamscape.

It was a shell, too, made of essence, surrounded by lifeforce, with lines of qi and more lifeforce crisscrossing inside.

There were the three nodes from where essence, lifeforce, and qi flowed out at the head, heart, and navel. These nodes also connected to the clamscape with microscopic threads.

Unlike in the waking world, the resolution in the dreamscape while sensing the spiritual energies was higher. And most importantly, the spiritual energy pathways felt like an exact copy of what Yu Han had observed while awake, only this time, it was without the obscuring fleshy bits to hinder his senses.

He cultivated. Breathe in, then exhale. First fast, then slow.

Calm Before the Storm Breathing Technique.

With each inhale, the qi and lifeforce within his body would get energized. They would try to, ever so slowly, extend their reach. New pathways would be created, then reinforced by lifeforce. Qi would flow in, permeating every nook and cranny. Finally, essence joined the party, connecting the new territory fully with the existing paths. With each exhale, the debris and impurities would flush out of the acupoints into a void beyond his mental construct, his clamscape, and the dreamscape. Perhaps impurities left Yu Han’s body in the real world, alongside carbon dioxide and other unneededs.

Too many things happened, the processes alien. Too esoteric for Yu Han to even guess. But he was sure of one thing: this creation and extension of spiritual energy pathways was a quintessential element of body tempering.

Were they meridians? Looking closely, the paths for qi were more pronounced, while lifeforce seemed to be able to flow freely, even in the spaces between paths where no connections existed. The paths for essence were narrower, though they, too, were connected to every part of Yu Han’s body, originating from the node in the head.

This network of interconnecting meridians appeared… handicapped somehow? Yu Han had seen meridian diagrams in the many texts he’d managed to gather, and even some in the Night Alchemists’ Yard archives. The network there covered the whole body. The meridians were named, specific ones connecting to specific acupoints that would let a cultivator eject his spiritual energy.

Perhaps his meridian network was still underdeveloped? He was only level 2, after all.

And perhaps he could use this body tempering process of extending lifeforce, qi, and essence into new pathways to heal the injuries to his clamscape shell?

Since he could observe his spiritual energies, be aware of them on a level that was impossible before, more possibilities opened up.

Suddenly, he had a 4k Ultra HD view of his own self. He could observe to an unprecedented level how the magical fuel that made cultivators tick worked.

And for science, observation was the first step forward.

***

Mistress Miao slinkered under the canopy with a poise only possible by cats. From one branch to another she would hop. She had already caught eighteen butterflies. One of them even had a tiny, ricegrain-sized monster core and three antennas. This one she ate.

Fang Zhao sat cross-legged underneath the biggest of the trees. Red markings appeared on his body. When the tenth mark finally formed, snaps rang out like popping joints.

The grumpy boy had broken through to level 2.

Level 2.

What a peculiar standardisation. It was heavily mathematical.

Those of her time would call it the second stage of tempering the body.

Cultivation was an individually unique practice, even within sects and clans that grouped together. In many worlds, they had their own names for the various stages of a realm. It could be different from country to country in the same world, too.

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Usually, they used more esoteric nomenclature, entwined with mysticism. The realm names were consistent, but, for example, body tempering might be broken down into bone-forging, skin-hardening, blood-replenishing and so-and-so stages.

They weren’t wrong to do that.

But Mistress Miao couldn’t fault this dao records construct for propagating a more structured way either. It had origins and suborigins, neatly categorised arts and traits and so so many numbers.

Mistress Miao, of course, knew what the dao was: The Grand Dao. Not this dao record.

By its very nature, that which could be explained, written down, and taught could not be the dao. One had to be part of it. Live without it, yet still die in it.

Each person’s dao was unique.

So how could this strange mirage of light flickering in front of her face, showing so many arts, traits, and numbers ever be her dao? It got her name wrong. Most of the arts and traits were blurred; some were covered with a Requirements Not Met text, others with Feature Unknown.

Though the very fact that this… imitation, was able to display itself in front of her, even divining some parts of her being, was amusing.

More amusing were the trials and tribulations. Rarely did one face a tribulation before the breakthrough process to nascent soul. This false dao forced one upon a practitioner at the peak of every major realm.

And trials? They looked like guided training regimens to develop the unique abilities one would need to break through each minor stage.

Was it some sort of training tool, then, as was used in her sect? If so, it was somehow affecting this whole area. Not just one sect, but the whole world. Not just one world, but hidden realms too.

The fact that it was able to analyse even Mistress Miao, though partially, meant it should not have any trouble affecting a whole, moderately sized, realm of cultivation. That wasn’t out of the ordinary.

Whether it was a spell, a formation, an artefact, or some manner of living being, the power that would require even sent curious flutters of fur down Mistress Miao’s tail.

“Meow.”

“Did you say something?” Fang Zhao asked.

“No. I meowed.”

What a peculiar world. This fake dao did not seem malicious at least. It did not cover up the real dao like a curtain. It was more like a filter, a synergistic component.

What was it?

Why did her Ancestral Fang Ring appear in this world? This so called Mortal Heavens of Myriad Confluences.

Who gave it to this Fang Zhao boy? There seems to be conspiracies involved. Did it involve her ex-master?

As far as hosts went, Fang Zhao was perfect. A talent in both qi and body cultivation that rivalled her own. Though a little grumpy, she would entice him soon enough. Her paws were so soft to touch, how could he not bend the knee?

She shook her head. Her ears flapped about, while her tail thumped on the branch. A butterfly landed on her nose, and she pawed at it so fast its wings remained in place midair even though its body had been launched all they way to that other tree. A monster.

Her current form was too limiting. Level 2 like him, as this fake dao called it.

It limited her means. Normally, she’d be able to disintegrate the bug.

Why… did I paw it though? She tilted her head. She was a human, not a tiger. But for now, the tiger part of her bloodline would need to be boosted lest some mysterious scrying method employed by her enemies noticed her reawakening. Unfortunately, that meant the feline instincts taking priority over the human ones.

I can’t do much for this grumpy boy.

Fang Zhao would need to depend on his so-called friends.

They were an interesting group, though not as talented.

Fei Rui was a warden, no doubt. But what sort was a mystery. She asked, and he didn’t know. He had the gall to question back. She would sneak into his stash and steal a coconut shell. She would put it back later before he noticed it was missing.

Huang Niuniu had gotten an interesting bloodline art, one that even Mistress Miao hadn’t seen before. It paled compared to Fang Zhao’s talent by an epochal distance, but it was fascinating nonetheless. She might keep up with Fang Zhao, at least in the starting realms.

Yu Han, his funny appearance aside, was the least interesting. Aside from Li Yao, who was a typical cultivator of typical talent from head to toe.

At least Yu Han had something going on with his soul. The boy’s bone age was 18, but his soul age was in his sixties. She wasn’t sure of the exact age, which was another anomaly.

There were a few possibilities. One she already discounted. It was not a foreign possessing the body after consuming, sealing, or dispersing the original; that she was certain of. Such demonic methods left marks she could observe like bright torches in the darkest night.

Had he awakened his past life’s memory? Not only a fragment but memory of a full life, as fragments would not age souls.

If he was a reincarnated cultivator, and conducted the reincarnation process with his own means, then the implications would be terrifying. To reach a realm of power required to self-reincarnate before the age of fifty was a talent that was nearly unheard of.

Nearly.

If Yu Han was like that, why was he so mystified by every supernatural occurrence? It was as if he was a plebeian to the ways of magic. Mistress Miao was sure he did not have sealed memories, self-induced or otherwise. Then that might mean the in his past life, Yu Han had no direct contact with magic. That he was… mortal? Which in turn could suggest that someone, or something, had forcefully reincarnated Yu Han.

That wasn’t unheard of. In fact, Mistress Miao could’ve done similar things in her prime.

She had done similar things. As both reward and punishment.

If Yu Han was a mortal in his past life, it would make the fat boy barely more interesting than Li Yao.

But Li Yao made Mistress Miao an interesting toy. It was a stick, at the end of which was a rope, and at the end of the rope was a ball made out of more rope.

When he moved it about in front of Mistress Miao, it was fun to paw at.

She moved Li Yao before Yu Han in interestingness after some deliberation.

She yawned.

Is it about time? She looked at the sky. Nothing happened.

“Can we leave now?” Li Yao asked. “I was supposed to be back in a week.”

“No.”

Hours passed.

Mistress Miao’s ears twitched. “Okay now we can leave.”

At the same time, as if the heavens were agreeing with her, a thunderbolt hit the mountain peak. The shockwave passed through the ground and travelled down in waves, followed by a blinding light.

It was strange, as the light should have come first. That meant it was contained. As if the heaven’s did not want to reveal their secrets too soon.

“That was so loud,” Mistress Miao said.

The grumpy boy didn’t reply. He just stood there, shocked, like a stupid mortal-worlder.

“Fang Zhao. Fang Zhao?”

“W-What in the emperor’s name was that—”

“Let’s go. I marked the area.”

“Don’t tell me you peed on the tree—”

“Meow!” Mistress Miao unleashed her claws, poking eight holes in Fang Zhao’s feet.

“That hurt, you—” The boy yowled, even though the holes had healed by the time he finished.

“Let’s go. The monsters will swarm. Let’s go?” She waged her tails.

They would need to come back with more people after Yu Han had his little courtyard up and running. It would not be a bad idea to tell the sect as is, but this would help Fang Zhao pay off all debts once and for all. So why ruin the surprise?

The previous time she was in this hidden realm with the boy, she had sensed the movements of the genesis qi. It was cooking something interesting, all in its misguided notion of becoming real. The dao record construct had somehow intervened. It guided the creation. She was excited to see what the results would be, but that was at least a month away.

She was a prodigy and a master strategies. She had thought ahead and forced the boy to float on the river for three days and come to this secluded ringed peak, just in time to see the genesis qi form the phantasmal relic.

The dao record tried to hide it, but the last time someone beat her at hide-and-seek was…never!

Fang Zhao didn’t know how lucky he was. Just being in the vicinity of such a heavenly miracle would aid him in forming his core down the future, not to mention when they came back for the various heavenly treasures and earthy riches that are sure to form in the area soon.

As for the relic itself, well, it wasn’t a type she would need. But it would be good for plebeians. Maybe Fei Rui could add it to his stash?