Chapter 128 — Transformation of Flesh and Bone
At the hermitage, study continued throughout the day.
Without regard for day or night, he repeated breathing practice, sword forms, gathering herbs, processing them, and then ingesting them.
The mountain held everything a human needed.
Yeongu devoted himself to gathering it.
Yet in their raw state, they were poisons.
Potent and concentrated, they would harm the body if taken as they were.
They were dried under the sun, steamed, ground into powder and dried again, or soaked in alcohol.
Oryang devoted himself to preparing them according to their properties.
If Yeongu had learned gathering from the physician, then from Oryang he learned preparation and the foundations of refinement.
He took what they made and restored his body.
At times, something as small as a seed moved up and down through his chest.
It was the middle dantian.
Though it was said this was not the stage for it, for Yeongu the flow came naturally.
Whether it was his nature or the result of what he had endured remained unclear.
It had not been many days since he awoke.
Before the breath entered, his chest opened first.
Then the air followed.
The sensation of being alive spread from within outward.
His breath caught once.
The inhaled flow stopped at the center of his chest.
It was blocked.
What had not been seen revealed itself clearly.
A thin membrane lay at the center of his chest.
The breath broke before it, and the energy scattered there.
Yeongu fixed his gaze upon it.
He remained with it.
He drew in another breath.
This time he did not force it in; he drew it inward.
He waited for it to open from within.
The injured chest trembled faintly.
The energy rising from the mustard-seed center reached it.
It was warm, small, yet unbroken.
It seeped into the membrane.
Once.
Nothing changed.
Twice.
A faint crack formed.
The third breath entered.
In that moment—
something gave way.
No sound was heard, yet something broke.
The unseen, transparent membrane collapsed.
The energy within burst outward.
From inside to outside, from below to above, it surged all at once.
His chest opened wide.
What entered was not breath but wind, unobstructed.
What flowed through him was not air but a current of energy, passing lightly through the renewed body.
The shell of his being no longer divided inner and outer.
His back was drenched in sweat.
His shoulders spread wide.
His body changed without his will.
The long-held tightness in his throat cleared.
His heart struck once, and the pulse spread through his whole body.
The flow of blood resounded within.
It reached his fingertips, and his vision brightened.
The light did not come from outside.
It spread from within, illuminating the entire body.
The meridians that formed him revealed themselves in full.
Even the pathways of breath were visible.
His entire body became a single passage.
There was no obstruction.
Breath extended endlessly through his whole being.
When he inhaled, the chest opened first, and the air followed.
When he exhaled, it flowed out without hindrance.
Energy did not linger; it flowed and filled.
Yeongu opened his eyes.
The world was different from before.
Sound was clear.
The air was sharp.
Everything had changed.
He felt the presence of others.
Something continued to move within his chest.
It lived.
His breathing had changed.
It was deep.
With a single breath, he drew in as though reaching the depths of the sea.
Without force, the chest opened first and the air followed.
When he inhaled, the world widened.
When he exhaled, it flowed out without obstruction.
At the center of his chest, something warm continued to move.
It did not remain in place but flowed, spreading in all directions.
It did not gather in one spot.
His body grew light as a feather.
It was not a loss of strength, but the shedding of what was unnecessary.
What had filled the spaces between skin, meridians, muscle, and bone seemed to melt away.
It flowed out with the last of the body's residue.
His movements grew shorter, his actions precise.
When he raised his hand, the energy extended to its unseen end.
It did not stop at the shoulder.
Back, waist, and feet moved as one.
The way he saw the world and things within it had changed.
What he perceived was not mere sight—his being reached and touched what lay before him.
The movement of people was felt before it was seen.
Sound was clear.
Even the faintest breath and the brushing of cloth were distinct.
Distance and nearness stood sharply defined.
Pain had changed as well.
It gathered clearly in its place.
He knew exactly where it lay.
The source of it revealed itself.
Breath seeped into it.
Warmth followed.
The body tended to itself.
His emotions became clear.
Fear as fear, calm as calm, each revealed itself as it was.
He stood in honesty with himself.
It felt as though that honest self had stepped out and stood in the sunlight.
Above all, his center did not waver.
The chest became the core, and head and abdomen aligned to it.
Standing alone brought balance.
A whole human stood beneath the sky.
Yeongu quietly drew in a breath.
Something within his body continued to move.
It did not cease.
It was not merely the sensation of being alive—
it was the state of life itself, sustained.