Methods of stillness had advantages over methods of motion as well. For instance, they were better for non-combat techniques focused on constitution and survival. But as most of the martial studies in Grand Chen focused on combat proficiency, there was a huge bias in favor of methods of motion, which resulted in An Jing only having heard about methods of stillness without explicitly being trained in them, let alone techniques that combined motion and stillness or regulated yin and yang to kickstart one into the Aura Realm.

"After breaking through with a method of motion, your physical body's meridians will strengthen, but you'll be worse off at control," the sword soul said, "Whereas breaking through with a method of stillness will afford you more precise control and a stronger aura, but it'll strengthen the body less. The weaknesses of both paradigms can be made up for through additional training. If you have both methods, you'll be able to drastically shorten that time, but it is difficult. Most people aren't capable of such a feat. However, you have the Spark and a powerful soul. Your body has also been built up well. I believe this is worth a try."

The sword soul began to sound a little troubled. "Weird, does the world of Void Embrace no longer hold these things in high regard? The basic requirement for anyone to join a huge sect should be harmony between yin and yang."

Maybe it's because North Han and Xishan are considered rural areas, An Jing thought. He continued to listen to the sword's teachings. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

"First, calm yourself and enter meditation. Then, begin to visualize yourself performing martial techniques. Once your mind and body fuses into one, execute the move in your mind as well as in the real world. That way, you can move your innate qi from a state of absolute stillness to a state of absolute motion, giving it both power and precise control. This will cut down on the time you need to slowly feel things out and allow you to speed up your progress toward the River Essence Stage!"

Qi essence was a term that the ancients used for aura, often seen in old tomes. The sword that the soul resided in seemed ancient, so it used the ancient terms whenever it got in a serious mood even when it also knew the corresponding terms. "For now, circulate Sword of Tranquility. Otherwise, all a starchild like you will get from meditation is the fractured memories of your previous life."

An Jing did as he was told, picturing the rusted sword and polishing away at it with his rage. Like the sword soul said, he began to recall many memories from his past life. He even recalled where he misplaced the remote of his air conditioner. It's no wonder I couldn't find it! I left it behind the vase at the dojo. Wait, what even are remotes or air conditioners?

He shook his head and shrugged off those confusing memories, continuing his meditation to reach a serene state, sinking deeper into his mind. The chaotic bubbles of sensation started to vanish, leaving him in silent darkness. Then, with his mind's eye, he saw a path appear, leading toward the realm of dreams.

What he should have been doing was practicing martial techniques in his mind, especially the sword techniques that he was adept in. Swords were the most common weapon he had practiced with back at the northern frontier. His father didn't believe that swords were perfect weapons, but he did make sure An Jing had learned about them so that his martial education would be complete.

However, An Jing had a personal liking for swords, mainly because they were double edged, had a single point, and a hilt. Every one of those parts could be used to lethal effect, left, right, front and back.

Yet, for some reason, he chose to put the sword down, wasting more time that he should have. He felt a familiar sensation on the path and stepped onto it. As he walked along it, he saw face after face appearing on both sides of the path, all smiling towards him. He looked at them silently as he proceeded along the path. As the sunlight faded, the faces also did.

Then, An Jing heard some horrible screams that seemed to come from the depths of the heart. "No! Save me! Mama! Save me!"

Deep in the forest, An Jing could almost make out a child screaming his lungs out, scrambling against the uneven terrain, wrecking his nails as he clawed on the ground in futility while the two cultists dragged him away, disappearing into the end of the corridor.

He stopped there for a while, having noticed the calluses on his hand that seemed to have resulted from archery practice. It seemed to be a hunter who had dreams of becoming a hero. The dream had been scattered.

An Jing continued on. As the shadows around him intensified, the echoes from the cries faded away. He no longer heard anything of the sort. This time around, it was a deep growl of rage. "How dare you bite me?!"

The scenes came flowing like a river. The child who had resisted was hacked into two halves, causing his innards, blood, fat and flesh to spill out all over the pavement.

An Jing looked at the thin figure, recalling the tone of voice the man had used. He could hear a sigh that sounded like someone resigning themselves to their fate. Though he was filled with regret, the world was filled with even more of it.

The scene vanished. An Jing continued on. The path got more and more decrepit and separate from the world he knew. He turned back and saw nothing but pitch darkness.

The dark stream kept flowing with bloody flowers floating along it. In the deepest part of the stream was a huge child strapped to a chair, watching as something approached him in terror. It got closer and closer to his eyes, and then there was darkness and a muffled, inaudible scream.

"Why me?! Why me?!"

"Why couldn't it be me?! I can be like you guys!"

You won't do. You are filled with too much empathy. You cry. You worry about your missing friends. You are not like those people. All he wants is a taste of fine wine. He wants to drink the wine of oathmaking. He wants to feast on meat happily with his comrades. He feels that he has found the people he can call his comrades, but neither the time nor place was appropriate.

The scene vanished, but the stream kept flowing. A thick, gory musk assailed An Jing's nostrils. Pitch-black blood flowed through the stream. He saw many skulls rolling ahead of him, without a shred of hatred or life. They rolled across with their familiar faces before vanishing into the blood.

An Jing looked at them quietly until the faces disappeared into omnipresent dust. The gale got stronger, taking the hushed whispers and groans of sorrow and hatred with it and spreading it everywhere. Incalculable hatred, inconsolable regrets.

The water in the stream receded, revealing an endless trove of white bone at its base. The shadows around him receded to reveal a withering tree covered in as many skulls as it should have leaves. There were blooming flowers in the form of bloodstained hands, reaching out for salvation.

This was the end of the path. The end of the dream, the coming of the waking hour. It was raining. Blood seeped across the land, staining An Jing's body in its entirety. An Jing had dreamed about the evil deaths that had occurred around him. He had once failed to see it for the truth it was, failed and stayed silent and ignorant to all of it. After staying silent through the entire dream, he smiled.

"Thank you." It was a genuine smile from the depths of his being, surfacing on his bloodsoaked face. "Thank you for being willing to see me one last time to tell me about this. However, that wasn't all of it. Tell me everything. I want to see more and remember it. I swear... I will never forget it!"

There was a loud clang of the sword, resonating. The withering tree shook in horror as blood gushed through the stream. The hollow breeze, dead trees, fog of murderous intent and waves in the river of blood piled up upon each other, turning into countless unblockable blades that shot toward An Jing.

"Sword!" he cried with all the rage he could muster. He reached out to grab the clouds and mist, and every time he did, the edge of a sword formed.

In real life, An Jing's eyes snapped open. He stood up straight, the muscles in his entire body resonating tensely. Large tufts of steam puffed out from his head. Within his hand, traces of ghastly red aura formed till it formed the mirage of a bloody sword!

He took a mighty step forward, scattering the mist around him before it contracted with him as the point of origin. Then, he slashed with abandon! Wild winds blew, white rainbows formed. A streak of visible sword qi shot outwards, breaking apart the rocks ahead and leaving a huge gash in the ground! His aura had left his body like a flowering river. This was the River Aura Stage!