Chapter 16: Thank You
“Cultivation isn’t that complicated,” Chen An said lazily. He dropped the sentence and turned to go downstairs. He planned to visit the Orphanage today and hand over the bank card to the Director. If he delayed any further, he would miss the bus to the town.
Lin Jingq followed behind him, step by step. Her expression was complex. She had initially thought she would be Chen An’s guide into the world of cultivation. To her surprise, it was Chen An who helped her break through to the Qi Refining stage. This shift in roles made the young girl unable to suppress her embarrassment. The thought of how arrogant she had been in front of Chen An made her toes curl, and she wished she could disappear into the ground. *If you were a hidden powerhouse, you should have said so earlier!* No wonder Chen An had looked so calm when she revealed her secret; he wasn’t a novice at all!
Lin Jingq was dejected. She felt that Chen An must be secretly laughing at her in his heart. Suddenly, the young man walking ahead stopped. It had been some time since school ended, and the corridor was empty. The classrooms were likely quiet. Only the sounds of students playing on the sports field could be heard intermittently. Chen An turned to face Lin Jingq.
“Are you thinking that I’m secretly laughing at you?” he asked.
Lin Jingq’s heart tightened when her thoughts were suddenly revealed. She put on a pouty face. “N-no,” she mumbled, turning her head away, unwilling to meet Chen An’s gaze. “It doesn’t matter, do whatever you want.” The young girl’s delicate nose twitched slightly, and she felt a tiny bit wronged. She had approached Chen An with sincerity and cherished him as a newfound friend. She hadn’t hidden anything and had revealed everything to him. She had even considered taking him to the capital and guiding him into the great gates of the cultivation world. This wasn’t just talk; she had genuinely prepared for it. Just as Chen An had said at noon on the sports field, if he lacked talent, Lin Jingq was willing to beg her Master and family elders to specially admit Chen An. As long as he could get in, there would always be ways to change things later. But despite how easily she had said it, the actual obstacles would be immense. Yet, she was still willing to do it. Not for any other reason than for the hand the young man had extended that afternoon. The hand that had been dripping blood. It turned out all her efforts were one-sided; he didn’t need her help at all.
Lin Jingq felt increasingly wronged the more she thought about it, even though she knew it was being overly emotional and nonsensical. But she still felt wronged. Suddenly, the young man walked closer, his body blocking most of the light.
“You’re overthinking it,” Chen An said gently, looking at her. “I saw everything you did.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “Perhaps, in your eyes, it was all your wishful thinking, and it didn’t help me at all. After all, I didn’t seem to need your help much.” After speaking, he suddenly fell silent. After a while, he added, “No, I’m actually very grateful to you. Thank you.”
His words were always straightforward and concise. But to Lin Jingq, these simple words carried immense weight. She turned her head and met his gaze. The young girl’s eyebrows curved upwards. Though she wasn’t smiling, she exuded a radiant presence. She clasped her hands behind her back and hopped ahead. She didn’t ask any more questions.
… …
After parting ways at the school gate, Chen An began his journey home alone. If the Orphanage could be considered a home. Arriving at the bus stop, he waited for about ten minutes before a rickety, dull yellow minibus rumbled into view. Chen An waved his hand. He glanced at the sky, thinking he was lucky; this was likely the last bus. He got on and found a seat, closing his eyes to rest.
Streams of spiritual energy, wandering in the air and invisible to ordinary people, now seemed to have found their target, surging towards Chen An like schools of fish. They were vast but orderly. Chen An accepted them all. Any amount and intensity of spiritual energy were absorbed into his body. If it were a cultivator below the Nascent Soul stage, facing such an influx of spiritual energy would likely cause them to explode in minutes. But Chen An wouldn’t. His body, tempered by the Mahayana stage, could withstand the impact of the spiritual energy. The spiritual energy that flowed into his body was guided by Chen An towards his internal Spirit Platform. If everything went as planned, this spiritual energy would be refined in the Spirit Platform, transforming into incredibly pure spiritual power and nourishing Chen An.
But the unexpected happened. The Spirit Platform was damaged, incomplete. Chen An focused his mind and observed carefully. He saw a fist-sized hole in the center of the Spirit Platform, which was spinning in his internal organs. It looked as if it had been pierced through by sword energy, leaving it in a mess. No matter which side the spiritual energy entered from, it would immediately leak out from the other. This meant the Spirit Platform could no longer refine spiritual energy, let alone convert it for his use. In other words, besides the spiritual power stored in his meridians, Chen An could no longer begin cultivating. The Spirit Platform is the foundation of a cultivator, the source of spiritual power, and the prerequisite for a cultivator to perform any techniques. Once the Spirit Platform is damaged, the consequences are extremely severe and irreversible. This meant that Chen An, despite possessing the body of a Mahayana stage cultivator, could only wield spiritual power comparable to an ordinary Golden Core stage cultivator. With a damaged Spirit Platform, even if he meditated for a hundred years, nothing would change when he emerged.
Although, according to Lin Jingq, the strongest cultivator on Blue Star was only at the Foundation Establishment stage. But this was only because the spiritual energy had just begun to recover. In a few more years, when the spiritual energy on Blue Star had fully recovered, many astonishing prodigies would surely emerge. At that time, a mere Golden Core stage cultivator would be completely insignificant. Fortunately, Chen An had anticipated this, and his expression remained calm, showing no emotional fluctuations. If another cultivator faced such a predicament, they would likely be weeping by now. So… what should he do? Chen An turned his head to look out the window. The scenery outside flowed like a moving painting, reflecting his indifferent face. Was this the end? Even with the body and experience of a Mahayana stage cultivator, he could at best be invincible among his peers. He would never hope to recover his peak strength again. Without sufficient spiritual energy to support it, everything was meaningless. Even the body of a Mahayana stage cultivator was just a useless vessel.
Thinking this, Chen An suddenly had a thought. He considered it carefully and felt it might just work. Thus, he once again submerged his consciousness into his internal organs. A chibi version of Chen An appeared beside the Spirit Platform. Next, the little figure extended a hand and gently pressed it onto the Spirit Platform. In the next moment, the Spirit Platform exploded.
(End of this chapter)
