The first light of dawn had yet to grace Enlightenment Peak when Liu Chen's eyes snapped open. The monastery bells had not even begun their morning call, yet his body moved with practiced precision—a testament to the rigorous discipline that had become his second nature.
Rising silently from his simple straw mat inside of his living quarters, Liu Chen made his way through the shadows of the Western Pavilion. The air was crisp with mountain dew, carrying the faint scent of incense that perpetually lingered around the sacred grounds. His six arms moved in fluid coordination as he began the first of his daily trials.
The walls of each pavilion required meticulous attention, and Liu Chen's multiple limbs granted him an advantage that would have made lesser disciples weep with envy. Stone by stone, beam by beam, he cleansed every surface until they gleamed like polished jade. The plants throughout the monastery grounds received equal devotion—his hands trimming with surgical precision while others tended to the watering.
But it was the Buddhist statues that demanded his utmost reverence. Each figure of enlightened masters and bodhisattvas was polished until their bronze and marble surfaces seemed to glow with inner light. Liu Chen's movements were reverent, almost ritualistic, as if each stroke of the cloth was a prayer unto itself.
The size of the shadow of the main pavilion served as his timekeeper. Should it grow too long before he finished, the punishment would be swift and merciless—two hundred repetitions each of push-ups, sit-ups, and squats. Yet Liu Chen had not failed once since his third day, earning himself those precious thirty minutes of personal time that slackers could only dream of.
"Punctual as always, Asura," came the weathered voice of Master Lian Shenlong as Liu Chen completed his final polishing stroke. The old monk's eyes carried the depth of countless years.
"This disciple dares not waste Master's time," Liu Chen replied, bowing deeply.
Lian Shenlong nodded approvingly. "The Southern Pavilion awaits. Today we delve deeper into the nature of samsara and the illusions that bind mortal souls."
The library within the Southern Pavilion was Liu Chen's sanctuary of learning. Ancient texts lined the walls—scrolls containing the accumulated wisdom of countless generations of Buddhist masters. From seven-thirty until noon, he absorbed knowledge like a desert drinks rain. The concepts of enlightenment, the endless cycle of samsara, the profound depths of samadhi meditation, the tribulations that test a cultivator's resolve, and the five desires that chain men to their earthly suffering.
What astounded Master Lian Shenlong was Liu Chen's intuitive grasp of these concepts. It was as if the young disciple had lived through these teachings before, contributing insights that even seasoned monks would struggle to articulate.
"Your understanding runs deeper than mountain roots, Asura," Lian Shenlong observed one afternoon. "Perhaps your connection to the Dharma extends beyond this single lifetime."
Liu Chen merely smiled enigmatically, knowing full well that his memories from his previous existence where Buddhism was the most popular religion in his city, gave him advantages that would be impossible to explain.
When the sun reached its zenith, the true physical trial began. Liu Chen strapped two hundred pounds of weighted stones to his back—a burden that would crush ordinary men—and began his ascent and descent of Enlightenment Peak. Twenty complete circuits, the monastery growing smaller and larger with each journey up and down the treacherous mountain paths.
His six arms provided not just strength but also gave him perfect balance, allowing him to complete what should have been a four-hour ordeal in merely sixty minutes. The remaining time was his greatest treasure.
Behind the monastery, hidden from casual view, lay a waterfall that cascaded down the mountain face with the fury of heaven itself. The water struck the rocks below with such force that the very air vibrated with its power. Here, in this secret sanctuary, the primal qi was so concentrated it seemed to shimmer in the mist.
Liu Chen would position himself directly beneath the crushing torrent, assuming the lotus position with the serenity of an enlightened master. The water battered his body mercilessly, yet he remained unmoved, drawing the rich primal qi into his dantian through his carefully opened meridians. The physical punishment of the waterfall served to deepen his meditative state, pushing him toward the elusive realm of samadhi.
Only when his dantian swelled with accumulated energy and his meridians welled with nourishment would he finally emerge from his watery ordeal.
Dinner was a simple affair—fish caught by Lian Shenlong's own hand, prepared with the sparse vegetables that grew in the monastery's garden. They ate in companionable silence within the dining hall, the only sounds being the gentle clink of chopsticks and the distant whisper of mountain wind.
It was during their evening discussions in the main pavilion that Liu Chen's true potential began to shine. Master and disciple would debate the finer points of Buddhist philosophy, and increasingly, Lian Shenlong found himself impressed by his student's profound insights.
On the third day of this rigorous routine, Heaven itself seemed to smile upon Liu Chen's efforts. During his meditation beneath the waterfall, he felt the familiar sensation of breakthrough—his qi condensed and refined, pushing him from the third stage to the fourth stage of Qi Refinement.
When he emerged from the water, his expelled impurities stuck to him like slime, and his Master was waiting with a knowing smile.
"Congratulations on your breakthrough, Asura," the old master said, producing a jade pendant that seemed to glow with inner light. "This is a small token to commemorate your achievement."
Liu Chen's eyes widened as he recognized the quality of the artifact. Asura's memories screamed warnings about the incredible value of what he was being offered.
"Master, this disciple cannot accept such a precious gift," Liu Chen protested, even as his hands trembled with the desire to touch the beautiful pendant.
Lian Shenlong chuckled. "This Heaven-grade artifact will aid in your qi accumulation and grant you clearer comprehension of the Dao. Your mental state will be as calm as still water and as deep as mountain roots."
At the words "Heaven-grade," Liu Chen immediately dropped to his knees and kowtowed repeatedly. In Asura's memories, such artifacts were the treasures of Nascent Soul Divinity realm experts—items of such value that wars had been fought over them.
"This unworthy disciple is overwhelmed by Master's generosity," Liu Chen gasped between prostrations.
"Rise, Asura. Tell me, what do you know of the powerful objects beyond our mortal understanding?"
Liu Chen's mind raced through the hierarchy that Asura's memories had preserved: "This disciple knows of Yellow, Earth, Heaven, Desolate, Flood, and Supreme grade artifacts. It is said that Supreme artifacts can alter the very laws of nature itself and are possessed only by the imperial families and... immortals, though immortality itself is surely legend."
Lian Shenlong's wrinkled eyes twinkled with ancient wisdom. "Immortality is no legend, young Asura. It is as real as you and I. Long ago, my ancestors aided in the ascension of one who achieved Mahayana—true Buddhahood, the Immortal Realm itself." He said as he stroked his beard.
The revelation struck Liu Chen like a lightning bolt. If immortality was real in this world, then the peaks of cultivation stretched far beyond what he had dared imagine.
"Focus not on such distant heights," Lian Shenlong continued. "Set your sights on the Divine Court Realm, where you will begin to truly shape qi and energy. Only then can you begin practicing authentic Buddhist cultivation methods."
As the days continued in their established rhythm, Liu Chen found himself increasingly curious about his master's true cultivation level. The old monk moved with such casual power, spoke with such profound wisdom, that surely he had reached heights that Liu Chen could barely comprehend.
One evening, as they prepared to share their simple meal of fish and noodles, Liu Chen gathered his courage and spoke.
"Master," he began carefully, "this disciple humbly requests personal guidance in combat techniques."
Lian Shenlong raised an eyebrow, his expression growing serious. "Are you certain about this request, Asura?"
Before Liu Chen could respond, the world changed.
Pressure—immense, crushing, absolute—descended upon him like the weight of the entire mountain. Liu Chen's knees buckled instantly, and he crashed to the ground, gasping for air that seemed to have turned to liquid mercury. The very atmosphere grew thick and viscous, while beneath his hands, the stone floor began to crack and splinter under the sheer force of his master's aura.
The pressure lasted only seconds, but it felt like an eternity of drowning in an ocean of power.
When Lian Shenlong finally withdrew his presence, Liu Chen remained on his knees, trembling and struggling to draw breath.
"It is natural for a disciple to wish to gauge his master's strength," Lian Shenlong said mildly, as if he had not just demonstrated power that could level mountains. "However, until you are capable of destroying a mountain with a single strike, requesting combat guidance would be nothing more than pure impudence and foolishness."
Liu Chen's respect for his master transformed into something approaching awe. In Asura's memories, such casual display of overwhelming power suggested that his master's cultivation was at the Thousand Whirling Soul Formation realm—a height so lofty that few mortals ever witnessed it.
The cultivation realms cascaded through his mind like a mantra: Qi Refinement, Divine Court, Foundation Establishment, Nascent Soul Divinity, Thousand Whirling Soul Formation, Void Returning Saint... and beyond that, mysteries that even Asura's memories could not fathom.
"This disciple understands his foolishness," Liu Chen managed to say, his voice hoarse with residual terror and newfound reverence.
Lian Shenlong nodded approvingly, then gestured to the cracked and broken floor around them. "You will repair this damage tomorrow morning before your regular duties begin."
Liu Chen felt a vein pulse in his forehead as the additional burden settled upon his already packed schedule, but he could only bow deeper and respond, "This disciple understands completely."
As they finally sat down to their delayed meal, Liu Chen reflected on the vast gulf that separated him from true power. His master's casual demonstration had revealed heights of cultivation that made his recent breakthrough seem like a child's first step. Yet rather than despair, he felt only burning determination.
The path of cultivation stretched endlessly before him, each realm a mountain to be conquered, each breakthrough a step closer to the legendary immortality that his master had confirmed was real. And he would climb that impossible path, no matter how many centuries it might take.
After all, he had already died once and been given another chance at life. What was immortality compared to such a miracle?
As the jade pendant hung heavy around his neck, he contemplated on the future days that would come. Tomorrow would bring another day of trials, another step on the endless journey toward enlightenment.
And Liu Chen would be ready.
He then clapped his hands together in a prayer-like manor, and said aloud, "Thank you for the food!"