Grimoire of Cultivation

The ether enveloped Xue Feng, a vast sea of blackness that extended beyond the limits of comprehension. His form floated, tethered to neither the past nor the future, but stranded in a void of endless nothing.

Yet within this void, there was turmoil.

"I must have erred," he confessed to the boundless expanse, his voice echoing through the void. "In pursuit of perfection, I lost sight of balance."

The Grand Elder, once a revered figure clad in silk robes, now found himself stripped of all grandeur, reduced to a consciousness adrift in the cosmos. His physical form, with its long, white hair and an authoritative beard, was a distant memory fading away in the river of time.

A flicker of a thought crossed his formless mind. He thought of Wu Chen, his only disciple, who was now tasked with achieving what he could not—the elusive 9th layer of his Taiji Talisman Technique.

"Wu Chen," he spoke into the void, "In you, my hopes reside." Xue Feng lost track of time as he drifted, lost in his memories, lost in regret.

---

Suddenly, a shift occurred in the black abyss—a beacon of radiant light, pulsating with the hues of red, blue, green, white, and purple. It was distant, yet it seemed to call out to him, pulling at his consciousness with an irresistible force.

A sense of foreboding washed over Xue Feng. He knew that to give in to this pull meant reincarnation, a fresh start with memories erased, including those of his disciple, his only emotional tether in his life.

Despite the apprehension, the pull was too strong. The beacon morphed into a spiraling vortex, and Xue Feng felt his mind being drawn toward it with an alarming speed. "So, this is it—the cycle of life continues," his last clear thought, surrendering to the powerful force.

His mind was flooded with a burst of sensory overload. As he plunged deeper into the vortex, he felt an acute awareness of his existence fading, replaced by an incoming rush of unfamiliar experiences and perceptions. The void around him was no longer silent; it was filled with chaotic noise—the symphony of a new life about to begin.

Xue Feng's consciousness clung to the last remnants of his existence. As his form was dragged into the vortex, his voice echoed one last time, a poignant farewell to his past self.

"Wu Chen... find balance. Master the Taiji..." His voice trailed off into silence as he yielded to the pull of reincarnation.

The darkness of the void was replaced by a blinding flash of light, so intense that Xue Feng's sense of self recoiled. Then, the silence was shattered by a high-pitched cry—a newborn's first breath.

------

All at once, consciousness bloomed within the infant. A chaotic onslaught of memories and emotions, fragments of an ancient past, swirled within the newborn mind.

His senses were in turmoil. Shapes, colors, and sounds bombarded him, all too bright, loud, and intense. The air held an unfamiliar scent that tingled his nose, a faint smell of flowers and milk that added to his disorientation. He felt a profound disconnection from this new form, an infant body that was not his own.

Two figures, their faces filled with pride and love, hovered over him. The woman, with long silver hair and sparkling emerald eyes, radiated a soft and gentle aura. Yet, beneath her tender gaze, there was an unmistakable strength that even the infant, in his disoriented state, could perceive.

"He looks scared Amara," the man's voice resonated warmly, his tall, scarred figure a stark contrast to the woman's soft presence. But in his pale-blue eyes, there was the same love, the same care.

Amara. That was the woman's name. His mother.

----

Days morphed into weeks, and slowly, the world began making sense. The disorientation started to fade, the sensory overload easing as the infant adjusted to this new existence. He grappled with the emotions that came with being a baby, the vulnerability, the dependence, and the ceaseless curiosity.

His father, he learned, was named Jarek. A strong man, a protector. Jarek often held him, his gaze filled with a pride that strangely warmed the infant's heart. "You are Darius, our little wolf," he'd say, tracing the symbol of their family crest—a wolf—on his tiny palm.

Darius. So that was his new identity.

The wisdom of Xue Feng resided within him, but it was now intertwined with the experiences of Darius. They began to blend, creating a off-balance feeling within his mind. With the passing of a month, Darius regained his mental clarity, his ancient knowledge melding with his new existence.

Love and warmth anchored him amidst the swirling confusion of his rebirth. His mother's soft lullabies, the comforting embrace of her arms, his father's strong, protective presence—they offered him a new sense of safety and belonging. Yet, the ancient soul within him yearned for more, for the familiar comfort of cosmic power.

Six months into his new life, guided by the memories of Xue Feng, Darius attempted to absorb qi. He was an infant, yet an old soul, aching for the connection with the cosmos that immortal cultivation offered.

He planned to sit in the moonlight, reaching out to find the elusive spiritual energy. Would he be able to bridge the gap between his past and his newborn present? The anticipation to discover the truth was nearly overwhelming for him.

With a determined set to his adorable features, Darius clung to the edge of his crib. 'Eight centuries of cultivation, and here I am, embarking on the grand adventure of crawling,' he mused, the surrealism of his situation inducing a touch of humor. With an air of babyish resolution, he set off on his painstaking journey to the nursery's center.

His small hands pushed against the plush carpet beneath him, a softness foreign to his memories. "Nothing like the cold, hard stone floors of my cultivation chambers," he thought, a small laugh bubbling up within him at the stark contrast. Yet, despite the infantile giggle that escaped him, his azure-blue eyes held a profound depth of experience.

Sighing inwardly, he turned his attention inward. 'I need a cultivation technique that this... body can handle.' He mentally scanned the vast repository of knowledge etched in his mind, a library of techniques accumulated over centuries. His thoughts lingered on the Taiji Talisman Technique, the pinnacle of his past life's cultivation, now an unreachable star. 'Too much for this body,' he admitted to himself, the realization bitter. 'I need something less...overwhelming.'

'Spirit Quelling Breath Method? No, too advanced for this young body,' he thought, dismissing it despite the flicker of hope that lit up his ancient mind. 'Lotus Petal Meditation Technique and Cosmic Root Foundation Technique each hold promise but are discarded for similar reasons.'

His thoughts gradually settled on the Dewdrop Breathing Technique, a method often dismissed as insignificant by most cultivators but known for its simplicity and gentleness. It was a cultivation method designed to harmonize the physical form and consciousness, to weave them together in a symphony of spiritual growth. It focused on the breath, each inhalation and exhalation perceived as a dewdrop, nurturing the soul.

This technique operated in a beautiful cycle. The practitioner would envision their breath as a delicate dewdrop, pure and vibrant with life energy. Each inhalation would draw this dewdrop into their body, suffusing it with the breath's vitality. The exhale would then release the dewdrop back into the world, leaving a portion of its energy behind to nurture the practitioner's spirit.

'The Dewdrop Technique... it's so simple, even a baby could do it,' he laughed inwardly, a note of self amusement coloring his thoughts. 'And it’s exactly what I need right now. Something to help sync this unfamiliar body with my mind. It still feels as if im controlling a puppet.' With a determined nod, Darius made his choice, his tiny heart thumping in anticipation.

Eyes closed, Darius committed to the technique's rhythmic breathing, his tiny chest rising and falling with each regulated breath. He waited for the familiar flow of qi, a pulse of cosmic energy he had known for centuries.

Inwardly, Darius called upon his senses, his tiny mental fingers reaching out to clutch at the omnipresent spiritual qi. His pulse pounded in his ears as he strained for the slightest hint of that life essence, yet, all he encountered was an echoing void, a chilling silence devoid of the familiar energy that used to brim within him.

"... it can't be," he whispered to himself within his mind, fear threatening to overwhelm him.

Panic surged, a dreadful wave washing over him. "Without qi... there's no Taiji Talisman Technique, no cultivation, I can't... I won't be Xue Feng," he realized, his thoughts brimming with a terrified urgency. His dreams of regaining his formidable power shattered, the fragments of his identity dissolving into the ether. The terrifying prospect of an ordinary, mortal life loomed before him, poised to erase his identity as Xue Feng.

Despair overcame him, a devastating tide sweeping him into its depths. His infant body, unable to hold his turmoil, erupted into sobs. The sound of his own cries echoed in his ears while his mind was consumed by a scream of frustration, of fear, of grief for the past life he'd lost.

The nursery door swung open with a crash, Lady Amara rushing in, worry etched across her face. "Darius!" she gasped, swiftly lifting the crying baby into her arms. She cradled him close, her voice a gentle song in the midst of his distress. "Hush, my little wolf... It's alright, mother's here."

Yet her comforting words did little to quell his crying, his wails piercing the calm of the nursery. Worry slipped into Amara's voice. "Why won't you stop crying, sweetheart?" Her hand, glowing with soft light, raised into the air, and with a swift motion, she conjured a mesmerizing swirl of water that danced and twirled around her hand.

His azure-blue eyes, filled with shock and wonder, were glued to the magical display. Darius' sobs abruptly ceased.