Lu Qinghe held his son’s hand tightly, his palm rough and slick with sweat.
He walked slowly, his shoulders stooped.
The alley was narrow, bordered by mottled dirt walls.
“Xiaoyuan,” he said, his throat dry.
“Don’t take it to heart.” Lu Yuan didn’t say a word.
His mind was occupied with other matters.
Now that his awakened memories had settled, his mind felt like an open library.
Spirit power theory, Martial Soul structure analysis, energy models…
vast, yet perfectly organized.
What could he use right now?
His body was weak, his spirit power was only half a level, and his Martial Soul had extremely low activity.
The starting conditions were harsh.
Yet, it was not an unsolvable puzzle.
His index finger unconsciously tapped against his father’s palm.
He filtered through his internal database, looking for the lowest-tier methods that required virtually zero external resources.
“Basic Energy Absorption Model Optimization”—a method of adjusting the resonance frequency between breathing and spirit power circulation to enhance the efficiency of capturing ambient spirit power.
It required no outside materials, only precise control.
His current control was too poor.
He needed to train it.
“Dad,” he spoke up.
Lu Qinghe paused and looked down at him, tension written across his face.
“What is it?
Are you feeling unwell?” “I’m fine,” Lu Yuan said calmly.
“Just tired.
I want to go back and lie down for a bit.” The man stared at him.
There was no crying, no throwing a tantrum, no despair on the boy’s face—only an unsettling calm, deep as an ancient pool.
Lu Qinghe felt a strange chill in his heart, but he ultimately nodded.
“Alright, let’s go rest.” Their home consisted of three mud-brick rooms with a pile of firewood stacked in the corner of the yard.
His mother, Lin Xiu, poked her head out from the kitchen.
Her eyes reddened instantly, and she wiped her hands on her apron, wanting to reach out and touch him, yet hesitating.
“Xiaoyuan…” “Mom, I’m hungry,” Lu Yuan said.
He needed energy.
Lin Xiu nodded frantically.
“The porridge is ready!
I’ll ladle a bowl for you right away!” Lu Yuan walked into his small room and closed the door behind him.
The world went quiet.
He sat on the edge of the bed, crossed his legs, and closed his eyes.
It was not meditation, but an act of retrieval and planning.
*Optimization of Basic Spirit Power Guidance Efficiency.* *Outline for Physical Adaptability Training Under Low Spirit Power Conditions.* In his past life, the researcher had been unusually obsessed with foundational problems, leaving behind a wealth of theoretical deductions on “spirit power below Level 1” and “resource scarcity.” Much of it consisted of hypotheses, but the underlying logic was crystal clear.
It was a perfect fit.
About fifteen minutes later, he opened his eyes.
The spark at the bottom of his pupils had grown steadier.
Target One: Increase his spirit power from half a level to Level 2 within three months.
At the same time, attempt basic “activity stimulation” on his Blue Silver Grass to gather data.
Deconstructing the goal into steps: Step One: Improve physical baseline.
Without proper nutrition, everything else was built on sand.
Step Two: Master the “Optimized Basic Spirit Power Guidance.” This required repeated practice.
Step Three: Design a “Stimulation Protocol.” This required careful experimentation.
He climbed off the bed and pulled open the drawer of a wooden chest.
Inside were a few sheets of coarse paper and half a stick of charcoal.
He pulled out a sheet, but did not write right away.
Three distinct paths laid themselves out side by side in his mind.
Path One: Focus heavily on optimizing spirit power guidance.
Increase absorption efficiency by thirty to fifty percent.
Quick results, but prone to early bottlenecks.
Path Two: Focus on physical conditioning.
Strengthen muscle tissue and stabilize meridians.
Slow results, but builds a solid foundation.
Path Three: Attempt to stimulate Martial Soul activity.
High risk, with a chance of failure or even backlash.
If successful, it might unlock a fundamental trait.
The resource requirements for all three were extremely low.
Timeframe?
Three months.
Lu Yuan opened his eyes.
There was no hesitation in his gaze.
Only children made choices; he wanted all of them.
Path One and Path Two would run in parallel.
Path Three would wait until his spirit power had increased slightly before he attempted it.
The tip of the charcoal stick paused above the paper.
He began to write.
His handwriting was crooked, but every stroke was deliberate and clear.
“Phase 1: Adaptation and Foundation Building (Approx.
30 days).” “Goal: Master optimized breathing method (Codename: ‘Tide’); complete basic stance movements (Codename: ‘Stance’, Forms 1 to 3).” “Daily Routine: Morning, Stance Form 1 for thirty breaths, combined with ‘Tide’.
Late morning, assist with household chores.
Afternoon, literacy practice or observation.
Evening, Stance Forms 2 and 3, twenty breaths each.
Bedtime, run ‘Tide’ for nine cycles while lying still.” “Resource Requirements: None.
Note: Maximize intake of grains and leafy greens in daily diet.” He stopped writing at this point.
Nutrition was a significant hurdle.
The porridge at home was thin, and the greens were dried.
Meat?
That was a luxury seen only during major festivals.
Spirit power cultivation was, at its core, the enhancement of life energy.
Without sufficient foundational energy, his efficiency would be cut in half for double the effort.
He tapped his knee with a finger.
He needed to find a solution, but he couldn’t rush it.
His mother’s voice drifted in from outside the room.
“Xiaoyuan, the porridge is ready.” Lu Yuan folded the paper carefully and tucked it into a gap in the bed frame.
He stood up and pulled open the door.
Three bowls of porridge and a small dish of pickled mustard root sat on the wooden table in the main room.
The porridge was mostly water.
Lu Qinghe sat at the table, his chopsticks untouched.
Lin Xiu stood nearby, anxiously rubbing her hands together.
“Sit down and eat,” Lin Xiu said, pulling out a stool for him.
Lu Yuan sat down and picked up his bowl.
The porridge was warm.
He took a large gulp and swallowed it slowly, letting the faint sweetness of the grains spread across his tongue.
He ate methodically—a mouthful of porridge, followed by a tiny bite of pickle.
Lu Qinghe and Lin Xiu exchanged a glance.
The child was far too calm.
“Xiaoyuan,” Lin Xiu spoke tentatively.
“If you’re tired, take a good rest.
Tomorrow, Mom will go borrow some fine flour and make you a bowl of noodles.” “There’s no need, Mom,” Lu Yuan said, looking up.
“The porridge is fine.
From now on, I’ll just drink an extra half-bowl every meal.” Lu Qinghe’s throat bobbed.
In the end, he merely grunted an “Mm,” picked up his own bowl of thin broth, and downed it in one large gulp.
“I’ve made up my mind,” Lu Yuan continued, stating his plans as if delivering a report.
“I’ll wake up earlier in the morning to help Mom with chores.
In the afternoon…
Dad, I want to read that old literacy book of yours.
At night, I’ll go to sleep early.” It sounded entirely reasonable.
Lu Qinghe remained silent for a long moment.
“You don’t need to do chores.
The book…
I’ll find it for you tonight.” “Mm,” Lu Yuan nodded, saying nothing more.
*** That night, Lu Yuan went to bed early.
Once his mother had tucked in his blanket, pulled the door closed, and her breathing turned steady outside, he opened his eyes.
He sat up quietly without lighting a lamp.
Using the faint moonlight trickling through the window, he retrieved his charcoal stick and pulled out another, even flimsier piece of paper.
Focusing his mind, he recalled the “Tide” breathing technique and the basic circulation path of spirit power.
The theoretical models in his knowledge base were translated into physical sensations: Inhale, draw the breath in through the nasal cavity, let it sink three inches below the navel, then as you exhale, split it into two thin streams moving upward along the sides of the waist…
The path was simplified, crude even.
But it was the optimal model he could construct given his current physical condition.
Guided by sensation, he used the charcoal to trace curved lines on the paper, marking a few key “nodes” and “flow directions.” The charcoal scraped softly against the paper with a quiet rustling sound.
His hand remained perfectly steady.
After drawing the final stroke, he held the paper up against the dim light.
The lines were uneven and the nodes were blurry, but it didn’t matter.
It served as an anchor, linking the theoretical knowledge in his mind to his physical body and spirit power in this world for the very first time.
The crude circulation diagram on the paper resembled a delicate young root that had just nudged its way out of the dirt, searching for a path forward.
Lu Yuan stared at it for a long time.
He folded the paper, placed it alongside his plan, blew the charcoal dust off his fingers, and lay back down.
He closed his eyes.
In the moment right before sleep claimed him, the tiny spark deep within his consciousness flickered gently, illuminating the narrow, overlooked crack that lay ahead.