Imperial Cultivation Chapter 4 - 4 4 Guidance

Mingwu Hall, main chamber.

The white jade flooring is polished until it displays a flawless reflection.

Hung upon the northern wall is a mural spanning two zhang in length and one in height; it depicts the morning sun breaking through heavy clouds to illuminate a grand mountain range and a surging river.

Positioned directly beneath this artwork is a solitary Taishi chair.

Seven empty chairs are arranged in rows on either side from north to south, leaving the vast, open space feeling particularly hollow.

Twelve luminous pearls are embedded in the coffered ceiling, casting a brilliant yet gentle radiance throughout the hall.

Chu Qingfeng rests in the Taishi chair at the room's northern edge, his gaze landing on Chu Zhiyuan: “How is your father faring lately?”

“Father is in excellent health,” he replied.

Thanks to his ability to peer within, he can perceive his own essence; through direct physical contact, he can identify the condition of others’ internal organs, offering him a clear picture of Chu Minghou’s constitution.

Chu Minghou appears fragile, as though a soft breeze might knock him over, yet his core burns with a surprisingly robust vitality.

Chu Zhiyuan’s eyes wander briefly to the wall painting.

Returning to his senses, the vision he experienced—as if he had stepped directly into the painting—remains vivid, far more visceral than a simple hallucination.

Could this piece actually conceal the profound secrets of a Great Grandmaster?

Chu Qingfeng offered a slight nod: “Minghou is truly fortunate. Had he not been born into the imperial bloodline, he likely would not have survived his first year.”

Chu Zhiyuan’s sharp, sword-like brows arched upward.

Discussing the frail nature of Chu Minghou was typically avoided in the household, though he had always been curious about his father’s condition.

Given that he was born with inherent weaknesses and seemed resistant to spiritual medicine, where did this hidden vitality originate? And if such power existed, why did it fail to manifest as physical strength?

“When Minghou was born, he was so fragile that survival felt impossible. Your elder uncle dared to enter the Baichuan Grotto Heaven alone in search of a cure, eventually recovering a Heavenly Spiritual Fruit.”

Chu Zhiyuan offered a slow, deliberate nod.

Within the Da Jing Dynasty, there exist four Grotto Heavens and four Secret Lands, all held under the stern protection of the Grandmaster Mansion’s Great Grandmasters.

These Grotto Heavens yield legendary fruits, while the Secret Lands house rare and exotic beasts.

To think that Father had partaken in a piece of fruit from those sacred grounds.

“The Heavenly Spiritual Fruit is an extreme rarity that surfaces only once every few centuries. It has the power to rectify congenital defects, granting even the most delicate soul a long and healthy existence. Assuming all goes well, both you and your sister should possess exceptional aptitude.”

Chu Zhiyuan finally understood.

It was no wonder he possessed such gifted talent.

Initially, he had assumed it was a trait inherited from his grandfather, Chu Qingquan, but it was apparently the doing of the Heavenly Spiritual Fruit.

“Do not squander this heaven-sent opportunity,” Chu Qingfeng said with measured gravity. “Practice with full dedication.”

“I shall, Granduncle,” Chu Zhiyuan promised.

“One more thing: should you aspire to become a Great Grandmaster, remember to exercise immense caution regarding external enhancements, such as spiritual pills or medicinal concoctions. Use them solely for purification or detoxification, but never for increasing your cultivation. The moment such external aids bolster your progress, the road to becoming a Great Grandmaster is sealed off to you.”

Chu Zhiyuan felt a sudden jolt of realization.

“Why are there so few Great Grandmasters in our world? Primarily, the journey is fraught with insurmountable obstacles, requiring a mix of rare talent and destiny. But more importantly, many are blinded by the immediate allure of spiritual pills, failing to see the rot underneath. Many recognize this truth, yet choose to remain willfully ignorant.”

“I am deeply grateful for your guidance, Granduncle!”

Many cultivators succumb to the temptation of shortcuts, desperate for rapid results. In this era, reaching the Grandmaster rank already secures power and status. Rather than chasing the elusive peak of a Great Grandmaster and risking failure early on, many prefer the certainty of reaching the Grandmaster level quickly.

He was acutely aware that once a person hits their sixtieth year, the opportunity to advance to the Grandmaster level vanishes permanently.

Yet, equipped with his Super Sense, he was determined to ascend to the level of Great Grandmaster.

This meant strictly avoiding spiritual pills for the purpose of cultivation.

“You possess a deep foundation and uncorrupted energy, which confirms you have not relied on pills for your progress. This is truly impressive.”

“Your observation is correct, Granduncle; I have eschewed such aids.”

He nearly joked that it wasn't a matter of virtue, but rather a lack of access to such costly resources, but he stopped himself, realizing such remarks would sound bitter and unseemly.

Spiritual pills aimed at enhancing cultivation were not common goods; they were strictly regulated by the Court and unavailable for general purchase.

The Prince Mansion’s resources stemmed from two streams: taxes and regional yields, or official stipends from the Imperial Court. This stipend included a small ration of spiritual pills, but strictly not for cultivation enhancement.

To obtain specialized pills, one had to exchange military accolades with the Court. Given that Prince Qing Mansion was legally barred from such operations, they lacked the means to earn such credit.

“In your generation, besides yourself, only the tenth and thirteenth branches show promise; as for the rest…” He sighed and shook his head.

It was just as his older brother had observed: the Chu family was in a steady decline. If the trend continued, the security of the empire would inevitably fall into the hands of others.

The princes of Chu Minghou’s era lacked vision and favored quick gains, and the subsequent generation of Princely Heirs was even more reckless, burning through spiritual pills to force their advancement without a shred of patience.

Mingwu Hall provided the finest martial arts and the direct oversight of Great Grandmasters, yet their prohibition remained absolute: no pills for enhancing cultivation, only those that refined one’s constitution. Once one reached the Innate stage, however, the rules shifted.

Such prohibitions serve to stall the inevitable, but they cannot stop it entirely when people are obsessed with taking the shortcut of chemical aid.

“Granduncle, I intend to seek out a movement technique to master.”

“The west hall holds our secret manuals, and the east hall houses a collection of miscellaneous texts. Select whatever you deem necessary; consult me if you find concepts you lack the capacity to grasp. Refrain from practicing in a reckless or forceful manner. However, as you possess guards, your most crucial focus should remain the Small Purple Yang Technique. It represents the foundation of our strength; you must master the Innate realm before taking on any imperial missions.”

These heirs were often too impatient to wait, eager to secure assignments. Missions are the primary path to earning merits, which can be traded for the very pills that accelerate their cultivation. These resources are rarely kept; they are often distributed to subordinates to forge loyalty.

Every Princely house requires security, and total reliance on one's own senses in a hostile world is rarely viable. One needs trustworthy guards to handle the threats that appear when one cannot be alert.

Recruiting high-level guards demands an endless supply of spiritual pills. As long as the Court holds the Four Grotto Heavens and the Secret Lands, there will never be a shortage of people clamoring to serve for a taste of those rewards. Thus, even if a Prince becomes a Grandmaster or an ultimate Great Grandmaster, they are still tethered as servants of the Court.

“I understand. I will also seek a breakthrough technique.”

“Go ahead.”

“Thank you, Granduncle.”

Chu Zhiyuan folded his fists in a formal salute before taking his leave of the hall.

On the martial arts grounds, the attendees remained bathed in the golden夕 light, standing as motionless as stone pillars, with soft plumes of purple energy radiating from their breathing.

Entering the west hall, he found himself surrounded by bookshelves that occupied the entire length of the chamber.

Fourteen massive shelves, each stretching thirty meters and reaching three meters high, stood crammed with texts across five tiers. The sheer volume of the collection was dizzying.

The air carried the faint, comforting musk of old paper.

Standing in the center, his eyes glinted with excitement.

Since his awakening, his greatest frustration had been that the family library consisted almost entirely of poetry, calligraphy, and travel logs, lacking anything substantial regarding combat.

To him, true cultivation required not just knowing the 'what,' but the 'why.' Grasping the true function of the meridians was infinitely superior to blindly circulating Inner Qi.

Furthermore, cultivation beyond the Postnatal Realm demanded deep insight rather than rote repetition.

A stronger foundation inevitably paves a wider road ahead.

The Mingwu Hall library was a vault of priceless wisdom, and he felt as if he were wandering through a mountain of gold.

Internal arts, Qinggong, footwork, combat techniques, and swordplay were arranged by complexity and power across the tiers.

The top tier held the most formidable texts, descending in rank to the base-level manuals on the fifth tier.

Additionally, a dedicated section housed the scrolls of the legendary sects: the Taiqing Primordial Sect, the Dragon Subduing Sect, the Yu Xu Sword Sect, Leiyin Temple, the Great Snow Mountain Order, and the Wuya Sect—the six absolute titans of the cultivation world.

He closed his eyes, steadying his breath until his senses expanded to encompass the room.

Information regarding every manual—its title, physical state, location, and unique scent—flooded his consciousness. Seconds later, he opened his eyes and moved toward the independent racks, selecting a yellowing silk tome from the highest level, upon which were written the words: “A Step Away, A World Apart.”

A legendary technique from the Wuya Sect.

He then pulled a weathered scroll from the same height, labeled “Great Snow Avalanche Sword Technique” by the monks of the Great Snow Mountain.

He skimmed the thin texts with rapid focus. After returning them, he retrieved a gold-covered booklet: “Jade Lock Gold Barrier Skill.”

As the sun dipped low, the sounding of a gong signaled that the palace gates were soon to close.

Chu Zhiyuan reluctantly walked out of the west hall. The martial arts training ground beyond Mingwu Hall felt cold and desolate in the twilight.

The princes usually finished their training in the afternoon before heading to their private residences or social gatherings, though many, like him, stayed until the last possible hour.

Walking between the sprawling palaces, he felt an unexpected wave of isolation.

It felt as though he were a solitary castaway in a vast, indifferent world.

Old memories surged—his friends from his past life, wondering if they were still shackled in their offices, married, or struggling with mortgage payments.

It was a strange mercy that his parents had already finished their journey, spared the grief of losing him.

Yet, the inability to share a drunken laugh or vent frustrations with a friend left a heavy silence in his soul.

In sleep, one occasionally forgets they are not where they belong. For two years, he had lived in a haze of unreality, a lingering sensation left by his rebirth.

Upon reaching the South Palace Gate, Guo Chi and his eight elite guards escorted him back to the Prince Qing Mansion.

Just as he crossed the threshold, the household steward, Feng Xi, scurried forward, informing him that the Prince, Princess, and Commandery Princess had been waiting for an audience.

During their dinner, Chu Minghou, Bai Ningshuang, and Chu Yi pressed him with questions.

He fielded them with composure, assuring them that the other heirs were well-behaved and that his thirteenth Granduncle was offering proper guidance.

The atmosphere at Mingwu Hall, he claimed, was focused and disciplined; everyone was working toward their goals, leaving no room for petty intrigue.

Hearing this, the worry that had plagued them all day finally evaporated into relieved smiles.

Chu Minghou chuckled, “See? I told you. Within the palace walls and under your grandfather’s gaze, those boys wouldn't dare act out.”

Bai Ningshuang huffed, “I imagine they don't fear the Emperor half as much as you think.”

The princes were raised in comfort and ignorance; some perhaps struggled to distinguish between the authority of their grandfather and the sovereignty of the current Emperor, viewing the former simply as a patriarch who happened to remain a leader.

Chu Yi shook her head, an air of disappointment lingering upon her face. When she caught Chu Zhiyuan glancing at her, she offered a quick, forced smile.

She had secretly hoped to watch her elder brother navigate a storm, crushing his rivals, but their unexpected docility left her slightly deflated.

By the time he returned to the Tingtao Courtyard, the lanterns were already ablaze, turning the night into the clarity of afternoon.

As he finished changing into a loose green robe, Zou Fang entered to mention that Feng Xi was once again requesting a consultation.