On the third page of the Miao Zhen Prohibitions were the following strict rules:
Upper Prohibitions of Heaven's Killing Ban:
First Ban: Doubting Heaven and God. Second Ban: Doubting the Dao and its Scriptures.
Middle Prohibitions of Earth's Killing Ban:
First Ban: Doubting one's teacher. Second Ban: Betraying one's teacher. Third Ban: Disrupting moral order.
Lower Prohibitions of Evil:
First Ban: Passing judgment hastily. Second Ban: Seeking knowledge greedily. Third Ban: Speaking excessively. Fourth Ban: Fostering disputes. Fifth Ban: Showing off. Sixth Ban: Slandering fellow practitioners.
"All disciples entering the sect must memorize, recite, and strictly adhere to these rules."
The Daoist scriptures were extremely strict about disciple selection, a fact evident in these prohibitions.
"So many rules and restrictions! If I were to try learning Daoism on my own at a temple, I'd probably never master the true teachings, even after a hundred years," I thought, lying in bed and flipping through the Miao Zhen Explanation. Just imagining this would be enough for a Daoist master to accuse me of blaspheming the scriptures.
The Miao Zhen Ten Caverns were divided into the following categories: Blessings, Purification, Alchemy, Medicine, Talismans, Incantations, Suppression...
I skipped over the sections on blessings and purification and went straight to the ones on talismans and incantations—my main areas of interest.
Unlike Daoists who pursue immortality, I practiced the Dao purely for survival.
The book described the art of talisman creation and usage in great detail:
"Unlike mundane crafts, the talismanic arts require materials that have been ritually refined and infused with spiritual energy to function. Before drawing talismans, one must burn incense and pray sincerely. The brush must be held with vigor, and the eyes should remain unfocused on the paper. Body and mind must be calm, concentrating entirely on the tip of the brush. The entire process—from reciting incantations to drawing the talisman—must be executed in one uninterrupted flow. Any mistake, distraction, or lapse will render the talisman ineffective. Incantations must come from the heart, not just be uttered perfunctorily."
As I read further, I realized how dangerous my earlier haphazard use of summoning talismans had been.
Draining vital essence and shortening one's lifespan were just the beginning. If an evil deity were to possess the body, one could easily lose their mind and become a puppet for malevolent forces.
In the Miao Zhen Dao, talismans are classified into four grades and nine colors.
Inferior Talismans: Often created by untrained individuals or rural elders, their efficacy is entirely up to chance.
Lesser Talismans: Crafted by Daoist masters, these are used for exorcism and disaster prevention and are divided into 108 types based on their effects.
Superior Talismans: These require a Daoist adept to create and often incorporate rare and refined materials. For instance, the thunder talisman I obtained from Liu the Blind's home was only a blank embryo, yet it could harm vengeful spirits. Back then, with no knowledge of Daoist arts, I only managed to harness one-tenth of its potential.
Greater Talismans: These transcend the mortal realm and can only be created by innate Daoist masters.
As for their colors:
Red talismans secure homes. Blood talismans signify calamity. Purple talismans extend life. Golden talismans are often associated with lightning and thunder.
The latter part of the book described introductory methods for drawing talismans and their accompanying chants. However, perhaps due to my limited Daoist cultivation, prolonged study left me dizzy and unable to commit the methods to memory.
After finishing the section on talismans, I turned to the foundational heart methods of the Miao Zhen Dao.
"Sit quietly, striving to suppress stray thoughts. Observe the lower dantian within, neither forcing focus nor emphasizing breath. Let it all flow naturally, free of thoughts, distractions, or worldly concerns."
"After a month of practice, the mind will calm, and breath will harmonize naturally. Gradually, one will feel subtle vibrations in the lower dantian. Eventually, warm energy will flow from the chest to the lower dantian, radiating warmth throughout the body. Over time, these vibrations will spread to the limbs and rise through the Governing Meridian—from the lower back to the Jade Pillow, Upper Field, Bright Hall, Sparrow Bridge, and finally the Yellow Court."
Though the passage seemed short, a beginner in the Miao Zhen Dao would take at least three years to comprehend it.
"The book claims one month of meditation will yield results. I wonder how long it will take with my rusty, flawed foundations?" I mused as I prepared to test the method, sitting cross-legged facing the setting sun.
Calming my mind and reciting the heart method, I quickly entered a profound meditative state, perhaps aided by the residual warmth of the child immortal wine I had consumed earlier. It felt like sitting by a cozy fire on a cold winter's night.
Unexpectedly, I reached the first stage of Xinzhai (Heart Abode) meditation within moments—a feat that took Liu the Blind half a month to achieve.
As I continued, my thoughts dissolved entirely, and my consciousness seemed to ascend.
It felt as though I were flying skyward, but I knew this wasn't the sky—it was the same realm where the blood-colored nine-tailed fox once appeared.
"Impure Nine-Tails, I've bound my spirit to yours. From now on, our fates are intertwined—your glory is my glory, your fall is my fall."
The fox's arrogant voice still echoed in my mind. Ever since it consumed my consciousness, I had felt transformed, with an unprecedented sense of inner tranquility.
Ascending further, I reached a state of profound stillness, stabilizing in what the book called the Upper Dantian, located between the brows—the so-called "Palace of the Spirit."
At this stage, I formally entered the second level of Sitting Oblivion, transcending joy and sorrow to attain a state of harmonious detachment.
Had Liu the Blind witnessed this, he would have been utterly shocked. After all, it took him six months to reach Sitting Oblivion after stabilizing Xinzhai.
By following the heart method, I inhaled pure energy and exhaled impurities, gradually transforming my body despite its initial inability to retain spiritual essence.
After completing several large cycles as described in the heart method, I opened my eyes.
Night had fallen, but the cool breeze drifting through the window felt neither chilly nor uncomfortable. My chest wound no longer throbbed, and I felt invigorated with clear, bright eyes.
Returning to the book, I found its teachings immensely comprehensive. The ten credits I spent on it were well worth it.
Unlike others who must progress through foundational stages like schooling, I could directly access esoteric methods and freely explore the Miao Zhen Ten Caverns. It was akin to having ten dedicated experts guiding me without unnecessary tests or obstacles.
In just three hours, I had broken through two levels: Xinzhai and Sitting Oblivion. With the immortal wine enhancing my meridians, I was confident I could soon reach the third level.
"Old Liu claimed my foundations were weak and rusty, but this is clearly a case of hidden potential waiting to burst forth," I thought, suspecting that my transformation was closely tied to the blood-red nine-tailed fox. "Next livestream, I must consult the Half-Immortal team to identify which deity I summoned."
By dawn, I had overworked myself, and my progress slowed. Remembering that the Miao Zhen Dao emphasizes natural progression, I decided not to force my practice.
Dressing in fresh clothes, I faced the rising sun to practice Heaven's Eye. Before leaving, I carefully poured a small amount of the child immortal wine into a thermos—just a finger's depth.
The fragrant aroma immediately drew Bai Qi, who began rolling and tumbling playfully at my feet.
"Don't cause trouble. I'm heading out now, but if things go well, we'll have child immortal wine every day," I said.
My plan was simple: the child immortal wine was clearly brewed from grains and medicinal herbs. With modern technology, analyzing its components should be feasible, allowing me to replicate it.
Though I lacked the expertise, I knew someone who did—Jiang City's largest pharmaceutical company, Qian Ding Pharmaceuticals.
I dialed Secretary Zhang's number, and an hour later, I arrived at Qian Ding Pharmaceuticals' new drug research center, where Secretary Zhang was already waiting at the entrance.
"Mr. Gao, this way, please," he said, leading me to the top-floor office. "Director Huang is inside waiting for you. According to the schedule, you have fifteen minutes."
Pushing the door open, I stepped into a simple yet elegant office steeped in traditional Chinese aesthetics. Qian Ding Pharmaceuticals, known for its roots in traditional Chinese medicine, had its walls adorned with ink calligraphy and herbal diagrams.
"Looks like I've come to the right place," I thought, glancing around, my confidence in Qian Ding Pharmaceuticals further solidified.
I entered the inner office, where a middle-aged man who looked no older than forty sat reclined in his chair, dressed in a Tang suit.
"Gao Jian, any progress on my son's matter?"
"You're Director Huang?" I asked.
The man had thick eyebrows, a square face, and an air of apparent honesty. But upon closer inspection, the sharp gleam in his eyes betrayed the calculating mind of a shrewd individual—a deeply hidden fox in disguise.
"I am Huang Boyuan," he said, setting down a bead bracelet he had been toying with. "This is our second meeting, I believe." He gestured for me to sit opposite him. "I'm fifty-six years old. Although my son, Huang Guanxing, was reckless by nature, he was the only male heir of the Huang family. His death is highly suspicious."
Huang Boyuan's instincts were sharp. I frowned slightly. This old fox wasn't going to be easy to deal with.