Chapter Seven: The True Fire of Samadhi

Time flew by in the blink of an eye. Before he knew it, Huasheng had already spent half a year at the Institute of Arts and Dao. With no prior knowledge of the Immortal Arts, he mostly memorized incantations in class, but when it came to practical application, he always struggled. To avoid unnecessary trouble, Huasheng kept to the routine of shuttling between the lecture halls and his lodgings, scarcely ever setting foot outside the institute.

For disciples of his grade, the institute arranged courses such as Classic Transformation, Immortal Incantations, Mystical Formations, Movement and Form, and Musical Theory. There was also the option to choose electives, including various Western languages. In any subject related to Immortal Arts, Huasheng’s progress was painfully slow.

In his class, the Immortal Clan disciples, led by the Young Lord Supreme, were always at the forefront, having been immersed in the Immortal Arts since childhood. Next came the Spirit Clan, most of whom were plants or animals that had cultivated into spirits by absorbing the essence of heaven and earth; thus, they were particularly gifted. Among them were fox spirits, the branch closest to the Immortal Clan, and some Spirit Clan students even outperformed Immortal Clan disciples in practical skills. The Spirit Clan as a whole excelled in transformation, earth-burrowing techniques, and intermediate-level flight arts.

The remainder were mortal disciples. Their abilities varied widely. Only those whose ancestors had settled in Sacred Peace enjoyed a familial foundation in the Immortal Arts and thus had some grounding.

Take the earth-burrowing technique, for example. Most students in class could perform it with ease, while those less skilled would end up half-buried in the earth, their heads covered in dirt—a spectacle that earned them the nickname “half-buried in the yellow earth.” This was a frequent subject of ridicule, but Huasheng had little cause to worry about such mockery. After chanting the incantation from his book and jumping onto the ground, he would simply land on his rear every time; his burrowing technique had become more of an earth-scratching art.

The Young Lord Supreme watched Huasheng digging in the dusty ground, waving away the dust, and coughed. “Is there a husky here burying meat and bones?”

Huasheng, sweaty and covered in grime, replied, “Learning the Immortal Arts from scratch—I have to be diligent, can’t ask others to do it for me.”

The Young Lord Supreme sighed. “Let me teach you. Whenever you cast a spell or recite an incantation, your mind must be clear, free of distractions.” He then formed a hand seal and recited the spell, his words flowing smoothly. With a cry of “Enter!” he vanished into the earth, and a few seconds later, burst from the ground ten meters away. “Now you try.”

Huasheng imitated the Young Lord Supreme’s words and gestures, focusing all his attention as he called, “Enter!” He immediately felt his body become lighter and began to sink rapidly downward. With a swoosh, his feet were suddenly encased in the soil, completely stuck.

“Ouch! Wait! Let me dig my legs out before I try again!”

“You’re improving!” the Young Lord Supreme encouraged him repeatedly.

That entire day, Huasheng played the part of a dust-covered “husky” practicing the Immortal Arts, but fortunately, the Young Lord Supreme was ever patient, never giving up on him.

After class, Huasheng found a water basin, letting the spring water wash the mud from his hair and face. The Young Lord Supreme approached with a bottle of water.

“You’re certainly diligent.”

“I’m dull-witted and the least adept at the Immortal Arts among the three clans. My only choice is to work twice as hard,” Huasheng said.

The Young Lord Supreme smiled faintly. “When you first arrived, I was worried you’d be mocked for your lack of ability. If I spoke too bluntly, I feared I’d hurt your pride.”

“It’s nothing! I’ve been an orphan since childhood, so I’ve endured every hardship. Pride is a luxury for those from privileged families. For people like me, there’s no pride, only self-reliance.”

“In truth, wherever you are, people always want to associate with the strong.” The Young Lord Supreme unscrewed his own bottle. “No matter how old you are, if you lack strength or anything unique, the outstanding ones will rarely consider you a true friend. The strong don’t necessarily seek out those like themselves, but their friends tend to be strong in some domain. Even if two people of vastly differing abilities become acquaintances, no matter how well it’s concealed, the strong will always feel more sympathy than kinship for the weak. Such inequality makes true friendship difficult.”

“It’s a bit disheartening, but not untrue,” Huasheng replied with a wry smile.

“Not everyone is so utilitarian. In any world, some people start earlier, others are more gifted, but as long as you’re willing to work hard, you can always catch up to many who once surpassed you. That too is strength. Even if you never surpass everyone, your progress will still earn respect. People value ambition and determination to improve—no one likes friends who are lazy and idle.”

Though the Young Lord Supreme’s words were mild, they carried an undeniable truth.

Among all his courses, Huasheng was especially fond of Movement and Form, a class dedicated to physical strength. It involved practicing the circulation of vital energy and emphasized exercise and sweat. Thanks to his athletic background, Huasheng quickly mastered the ancient sport of Cuju. The fair competition on the playing field reinvigorated his spirit. Only there could he recover a measure of lost confidence.

Thus, he spent his days diligently studying the Immortal Arts, and his nights poring over Daoist classics and treatises. Over time, with the Young Lord Supreme’s guidance, Huasheng gradually began to grasp the elementary material in the Book of Fulfillment.

One day in the Suxian Pavilion, Master Yuran entered the classroom with a gentle grace and announced, “Having learned the introductory formulas and incantations, today we shall delve into the arts of the Five Elements. Before heaven and earth were divided, all was chaos. Heaven and earth were one, the sun, moon, and stars not yet formed, no alternation of day and night or of cold and heat; above, no wind, rain, thunder, or lightning; below, no plants, mountains, rivers, people, birds, beasts, or insects. Within that chaos, a current of spiritual energy circulated, and from it, water was born of the Grand Origin, fire from the Grand Beginning, wood from the Grand Commencement, metal from the Grand Simplicity, and earth from the Grand Ultimate. Thus the Five Elements came into being, interdependent and mutually generating and overcoming. The Five Elements correspond not only to nature, but also to the human body.”

Master Yuran raised his palm, and a ball of flame formed above it.

“Fire is central to human civilization, even considered a hallmark of progress. With fire, humanity moved forward. So, among the Five Elements, we begin with fire manipulation. If you can master even the basics, it may one day save your life.”

“In the mortal realm, fire is seen as both a chemical and a physical phenomenon. If you can gather enough heat, you’ll create a flame, but you also need two crucial elements: oxygen and fuel. Without those, gathering heat alone won’t ignite fire.”

As he spoke, Master Yuran waved his hand, and a cluster of dried leaves appeared in the air.

“Next, I’d like a few of you to try fire manipulation. Watch carefully.”

He pointed to a male Spirit Clan student in the front row. “Xuanwen, come and try.”

The Young Lord Supreme whispered to Huasheng, “That’s Xuanwen. His ancestors were warhorse spirits—a classic fire family. He hardly needs to learn the technique; he could set ten-foot piles of leaves aflame with ease.”

The young man rose, approached the floating leaves, and after Master Yuran gave him some instructions, circled the leaves in careful observation. He then stepped back three paces, recited an incantation with intense concentration, and pointed. “Ignite!”

With a whoosh, the leaves burst into a floating flame, sparks scattering in the air.

Master Yuran nodded approvingly. “Well done! Xuanwen started by igniting all the leaves at once, not just a single one—evidence of diligent practice. However, he used a bit too much force, so the flames weren’t sufficiently concentrated, and the heat dispersed, lowering the central temperature.”

Xuanwen nodded silently and returned to his seat.

With a wave of Master Yuran’s hand, the flame instantly vanished, the leaves reappearing in the air.

Next up was a girl descended from mortals. She quietly recited her spell, then called, “Ignite!” Only a single leaf caught fire at first, but soon the blaze spread, and the entire cluster became a ball of flame.

“Good. Though your cultivation is shallow, your focus during the spell was excellent. With more balanced pacing and clearer enunciation, you’ll surely make rapid progress,” commented Master Yuran.

Then he pointed to Huasheng. “Huasheng, come and try.”

Huasheng’s face flushed crimson; he wanted nothing more than to crawl under his desk. He had worked hard on his incantations, but with no foundation, performing in front of the class felt impossible. Certain he would embarrass himself, his heart filled with shame and dread.

Master Yuran noticed his hesitation and reassured him, “Mortal disciples, do not belittle yourselves. Come; let me guide you.”

“This is a good chance,” urged the Young Lord Supreme. “Let the master coach you; it might do wonders!”

Huasheng summoned his courage, silently recalling the incantation he had just memorized from the Book of Fulfillment, and walked to the front.

“Keep calm and focus,” Master Yuran instructed.

Huasheng took a deep breath, recited the incantation, and pointed. “Ignite!”

The cluster of leaves floated, unchanged, slowly spinning in the air.

He stared hard, hoping for even a spark, but was left disappointed—there wasn’t so much as a wisp of smoke.

“Your finger must point precisely, aligned with your intention. Focus solely on the leaves—don’t think of your classmates or me. Keep your recitation even, not too fast or slow, and don’t skip words,” Master Yuran advised.

Huasheng repeated these words silently: Focus, even pacing. He tried again, “Ignite!”

Still, not a whiff of smoke. Huasheng’s heart sank with frustration; he blamed himself for his lack of talent.

“Huasheng, do not let your mind wander. A scattered mind cannot recite the spell properly,” said Master Yuran.

“Understood!” Huasheng tried to concentrate with all his might.

“I’ll demonstrate,” said the teacher. He slowly intoned the incantation, pointing with a steady hand in a seamless motion. The leaves ignited instantly, the fire steady and even, not a single spark escaping. The flames danced calmly, like a vivid, beautiful painting.

With a soft word, “Cease!” the fire vanished, and the leaves returned.

“Did you understand?”

Huasheng recalled every movement, straightened, and recited the spell again. “Ignite!” The leaves still floated, unchanged. His anxiety mounted, heart pounding; he tried once more. “Ignite!”

Still not a spark.

Ashamed and tense, Huasheng felt his stomach twist with pain. He recited loudly, his voice growing urgent, “By law, let it be! Ignite! Ignite! Ignite!”

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his chest; a bitter taste filled his throat, and blood gushed from his mouth. The room erupted in alarm, several disciples in the front row crying out.

Master Yuran’s brow furrowed, and he rushed to catch Huasheng as he toppled backward.

Stars danced before Huasheng’s eyes, then darkness encroached—he was about to lose consciousness. In that instant, a blinding light flashed before him. Master Yuran, still supporting Huasheng, glanced at the cluster of leaves and suddenly cried out, “No! Be careful!”

The center of the leaves began to pulse and flicker rapidly, as if a spinning fireball was hidden within. Bright flames shot through the gaps, flooding the hall with light; shouts rang out in panic.

For a moment, Master Yuran considered casting a spell to stop it, but his hands were occupied holding Huasheng.

In a flash, the cluster exploded with a thunderous roar, sending tongues of flame flying in every direction.

At the same time, the Young Lord Supreme shouted, “Get down! That’s True Samadhi Fire!”

The force of the blast lifted the entire Suxian Pavilion roof like a sheet of paper. Master Yuran shielded Huasheng with his body but was thrown several yards away, disciples tumbling in all directions. Luckily, the barrier around the pavilion caught many and bounced them back, leaving the room in disarray.

Tiles filled the air as a massive pillar of fire shot skyward from the center.

Next, the roof and eaves shattered in midair, fragments raining down. Master Yuran laid Huasheng on the ground, rapidly formed a series of hand seals, and cried, “By law, halt!”

The Young Lord Supreme leaped into the air, balancing on a broken beam, and called, “All directions, halt!”

Several giant fragments immediately hovered in midair, their descent slowing at once.

But the explosion was so violent that many large pieces continued to fly outward, threatening nearby buildings.

At that critical moment, a flash of silver streaked across the sky. From nowhere appeared a girl with long silver hair, her slender figure darting like lightning across the flying debris. As her flowing academic robes fluttered, every fragment she passed froze in place.

She called out, “By law, gather!”

The scattered debris converged in the air, clustering together like filings to a magnet, forming a ring of shards that drew ever tighter. The fragments clashed and scraped, rumbling, yet not a speck of dust fell.

The girl vaulted from a nearby shard to the peak of the Pavilion of Immortal Assembly, gazing down as the heap of wood and tiles slowly descended. On the ground, many disciples used their own powers to help settle the wreckage.

High above, the breeze played with the purple ribbon in her silver hair, revealing a profile of flawless purity.

She was a maiden, not much older than Huasheng.

Huasheng lay sprawled on the floorboards, gazing up at the open sky where the roof had vanished. Broken beams and rubble surrounded him, the groans of the wounded echoing nearby. He tried to rise, but his vision blurred.

Were people hurt? What was that fire? What in the world had happened?

No time for answers—darkness swallowed him. Just before he lost consciousness, he heard the Young Lord Supreme’s voice:

“Weiyu, thank heavens for your timely help!”