From the moment Yue Fan’s memories began to form, a Heavenly Stele had existed in his Sea of Consciousness, accompanied by a collection of vague, almost intangible recollections. In those memories, Yue Fan had lived a short life in another world, one completely devoid of Spiritual Energy. In that life, he had been born to an ordinary family. Diligent and studious, he did well in school, eventually attending a university to major in fine arts, where he developed a passion for traditional painting and calligraphy. After graduating, he took a job as a graphic designer at a large company. He worked endless overtime until, still in his twenties, his body gave out. He had spent his youth studying and his adulthood working, a life strung taut with tension and anxiety. When clarity finally came to him, it was only to realize he had drifted through his years before dying a sudden, pointless death. In his final moments, his life had flashed before him like scenes in a revolving lantern. He had never accomplished a single thing of worth. He hadn't honored his parents, pursued his true passions, or chased a dream. He’d never known love, nor had he seen the great landscapes of the world. These memories were blurry, and at times, Yue Fan couldn’t be sure what was real. It was like Sage Wumeng dreaming he was a butterfly, uncertain if he was a man dreaming of a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming it was a man. As time passed, Yue Fan stopped worrying about it. The past was the past. He was now ten years old, living in the Tao Cultivation World. And he was a cultivator. A cultivator who could comprehend the Heavenly Dao, soar across the Seven Realms, pluck the sun and moon from the sky with a wave, and bury the stars with a gesture. Of course, he could also be a cultivator who spent a lifetime refining Qi, never learning to fly or master any martial arts, barely able to cast a few simple spells—a humble existence at the bottom. Without the Heavenly Stele, Yue Fan suspected he would most likely have become the latter. The Heavenly Stele hovered in the center of his Sea of Consciousness. It was broad and rustic, strangely shaped and incomplete. The body of the stele seemed made of nothing, yet it exuded a vast and enigmatic aura. At times it felt as silent and empty as the void itself. On the stele’s ethereal surface, one could inscribe Formation Diagrams. Each time he did, Yue Fan’s Divine Sense grew stronger. On the path of Tao cultivation, Formation Diagrams were held in the highest esteem. Of all the disciplines in the Tao cultivation industry, Formations were the most difficult to learn, and the most crucial requirement for learning them was Divine Sense. Formations were composed of Formation Patterns, intricate designs painstakingly deciphered by Ancient Cultivators in their quest to comprehend the mysteries of the Heavenly Dao. The lines of a Formation were like ancient, primal characters, or perhaps minimalist paintings, each containing an endless profundity. When one inscribed a Formation, connecting with the Mystery of the Heavenly Dao within their Sea of Consciousness, it consumed a vast amount of Divine Sense. If a cultivator’s Divine Sense was insufficient, they would be unable to complete the Formation. Pushing forward could lead to the exhaustion of their Divine Sense, or even the shattering of their Sea of Consciousness, resulting in death. To become a Formation Master, one had to constantly study various Formation Diagrams and practice inscribing countless Formations. Therefore, the study was difficult and the practice arduous. Formation Masters often risked death, their Sea of Consciousness collapsing when they forcibly drew Formations with insufficient Divine Sense. When Yue Fan inscribed Formations on the Heavenly Stele, it consumed his Divine Sense just the same. But when he erased the Formation he had drawn, that Divine Sense was instantly returned, replenishing him completely. From existence to nonexistence, and from nonexistence back to existence. It was like the Great Dao itself, profoundly mysterious. At the same time, each time Yue Fan inscribed a Formation, his Divine Sense grew. The increase was minute, almost imperceptible, but it was real. From what Yue Fan understood, there was no specific Cultivation Technique in this world to train one's Divine Sense. Its growth relied almost entirely on breakthroughs in one's cultivation realm. Therefore, even the smallest increase in Divine Sense was incredibly precious. By continuously inscribing Formations on the Heavenly Stele, Yue Fan could improve his skills while steadily increasing his Divine Sense, so long as he kept at it. And with a powerful Divine Sense, Yue Fan could learn more complex, higher-order, and more powerful Formations. One day, because of this, Yue Fan could become a powerful Formation Master. The status of a Formation Master was revered. Even an ordinary one, not yet officially ranked, could earn a considerable amount of Spirit Stones just by inscribing Formations for others. Once Yue Fan became a Formation Master and could draw all sorts of profound Formations, he would have a foundation to stand on. He could continue his cultivation instead of being trapped as a mere Qi Refinement Cultivator for the rest of his life. Yue Fan considered this silently. But becoming a Formation Master was also fraught with difficulty. Formations were hard to learn, and becoming a true Formation Master was even harder. Among all categories of Tao Cultivation, the Heavenly Synod had the most stringent—indeed, the most exacting—standards for recognizing Formation Masters. A Formation was composed of Formation Patterns. The most basic contained only a single pattern. With each additional Formation Pattern, a Formation’s rank would rise, its effect would be enhanced, and the Divine Sense required would increase dramatically. Drawing one to five Formation Patterns qualified one as a Formation apprentice. Drawing six to eight Formation Patterns earned one the title of Formation Master, but such a master was considered ordinary, not included in the official ranks recognized by the Heavenly Synod. Only by successfully drawing nine Formation Patterns and passing the Heavenly Synod’s assessment could one become a true first-rank Formation Master. For a cultivator in the Qi Refinement Realm, becoming a first-rank Formation Master was akin to ascending to the heavens in a single step. First-rank Formation Masters were guests of honor in major Clans and Sects alike. Even cultivators in the Foundation Establishment Realm would not dare to offend them. And even if they did nothing at all, they would receive a monthly stipend of Spirit Stones from the Heavenly Synod’s Heavenly Secrets Pavilion. Countless young and beautiful female cultivators would break down their doors, vying to become their Daoist companions. Beyond the extremely difficult assessment, each state boundary also had a quota for first-rank Formation Masters. Becoming one depended not only on effort, but on destiny. If one was unlucky and the quota in their state was filled, they could possess the skill of a first-rank Formation Master but still be denied a slot in the assessment, forced to wait for the next chance. Some Formation Masters spent their entire lives trying, only to die with their ambitions unfulfilled. Countless cultivators from humble backgrounds exhausted their minds and bodies, their hair turning white with age, yet never fulfilled their lifelong wish to become first-rank Formation Masters. And the so-called quota restrictions were, Yue Fan knew, generally just excuses created by the major Clans and Great Sects. They needed the title of first-rank Formation Master to add luster to their own heirs and disciples, presenting them to the world as geniuses worthy of everyone’s attention. The low-born cultivators who poured their hearts and souls into the craft were merely dust under their feet, unworthy of a second glance. Night had fallen. Yue Fan lay in his bed in the Disciple’s Residence, but his Divine Sense was sunk deep within his Sea of Consciousness, ceaselessly inscribing Formations on the Heavenly Stele. The Formation that Yue Fan was drawing was called the Twin Yuan Formation. Consisting of two Formation Patterns, it was considered one of the basics. But Yue Fan had never successfully drawn it before. Due to their insufficient Divine Sense, disciples in the early stages of Qi Refinement could generally only learn Formations containing a single Formation Pattern. Among the Outer Gate disciples at Jianyun Gate, very few had managed to fully master even one. Yue Fan, however, had long ago grown so familiar with single Formation Patterns that he could draw them with effortless proficiency. Desiring to learn more difficult Formations, Yue Fan had taken to practicing the two-pattern Twin Yuan Formation every night on the Heavenly Stele. After dozens of nights of repetitive practice and incessant effort, Yue Fan finally succeeded. For a Formation Master learning their craft, each Formation Pattern was a new threshold. With each additional pattern, one climbed another rung on the ladder. Since Yue Fan could now draw two Formation Patterns, it meant his Divine Sense and skill with Formations were already far above those of his peers. Among the early-stage Qi Refinement disciples of the Jianyun Gate’s outer court, his level should be second to none. Yue Fan let out a breath of relief. Just as the clock turned to Hour of the Rabbit and the sky began to lighten, he withdrew his Divine Sense from his Sea of Consciousness and opened his eyes. Though he had been inscribing Formations all night, his mind was clear, and he felt no fatigue. It was as if he had just enjoyed a deep and restful sleep. He opened the window, and the morning sunlight washed over his fair and handsome face. Outside, the rising sun was haloed by rosy clouds that spread across the sky for thousands of miles. The ten-year-old Yue Fan took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the horizon, a resolute look settling in their depths. As long as he kept practicing Formations, constantly honing his Divine Sense, one day he would surely become a first-rank Formation Master. And when that day came, he would take a great stride on the path of seeking the Tao and questioning the Great Dao. He would not spend his whole life simply refining Qi.

Chapter 2: He Lived A Blurry Dream