Chapter Twenty-Nine: Refining the Mind through the Five Aggregates

Homeroom teacher Yang Yankun placed both hands firmly on the podium. Unlike his usual gentle and earnest demeanor, today his presence was sharp, almost aggressive. He gazed intently at the seventy-eight students before him. Gradually, a trace of sorrow appeared in his eyes.

“I’ve been your homeroom teacher for three years. This will be the last lesson I give you on spiritual tempering. In the past, I would tell you to believe in miracles—that with hard work and perseverance, anything is possible.

“But today, I must say this: our talents are not the same. Each ruler has its short end, each inch its strength. For those who are not adept at spiritual cultivation, it’s best to give up the path of martial arts as soon as possible. Every profession has value; society needs talents from all walks. Whether you pursue literature or martial arts, if you become a useful person to society, your life will not have been in vain.”

“What does he mean?” Many students below looked unsettled, their eyes filled with suspicion as they watched their teacher.

“Isn’t this the last lesson? There are still two months left. Is he not going to be our homeroom teacher anymore?”

“What are you talking about? It’s obvious—those of us whose spiritual level is insufficient don’t need to attend spiritual lessons anymore. And those who passed the test and joined the Martial Arts Class will no longer need these lessons either; they will receive separate guidance.”

“So, we’re being abandoned.”

Three years of effort, and now the moment of fate's revelation had arrived. Before, they could still comfort themselves: maybe tomorrow, or the day after, they would wake up having grasped the spiritual realm. But at this very moment, at the final threshold, it became clear that some things are decided long before.

It wasn’t a matter of effort or persistence. As the teacher said, talent varies, and some things cannot be forced.

The time for the specialization test had finally come. Of those present today, most would part ways with martial arts, bidding farewell to their childhood dreams.

“Teacher, even if our spiritual power doesn’t currently meet the standard, there are still two months before the entrance exams. We might still break through. A temporary lead doesn’t mean a permanent one, does it?” A pale-faced student in the fifth row, anxious and dissatisfied, spoke up.

This was the voice of their unwillingness to accept fate.

To them, learning was like running a race, and gaining admission to a martial arts university was the finish line. Previously, there was always someone cheering at their side: “Keep going, you can do it, you absolutely can.” But now, just as they neared the finish, that same person suddenly said, “Stop running. You can’t make it.”

It was a hard truth to swallow.

Yang Yankun’s eyes grew more sorrowful. He knew this student—Guo Sanyuan—well. In terms of cultivation and study, there was nothing to criticize; his diligence was beyond reproach. Twice he had even collapsed from exhaustion.

Yes, he was passionate about martial arts and harbored great ambition. Yang Yankun could even see the flames of determination and hatred in his eyes. He knew what Guo Sanyuan hated, and he understood that many in the class aspired to achieve martial prowess and serve their country.

As a teacher, how could he not admire a student like Guo Sanyuan? He remembered providing him with individual spiritual counseling at least five times.

But, in this era, talent and resources are the most reliable. All else is of little use.

Guo Sanyuan’s spiritual strength had not reached the meditative stage; he was unable to practice the Spirit-Forging Method. At the start-of-term test for seniors, his vital energy was only 2.3.

Weak vitality meant weak strength, and his martial skills were similarly limited.

Every student’s data and situation passed through Yang Yankun’s mind. He shook his head and sighed, “Indeed, a temporary lead doesn’t mean a permanent one. But first, you have to get through the door. Do you know why the entire society, the whole Alliance of Universities, emphasizes cultivating students’ spiritual power?

“Because, after the age of eighteen, spiritual strength begins to solidify and becomes much harder to improve. Even if you manage to train your spiritual power later, your ceiling is set; your achievements will not be high.”

“If our spiritual power doesn’t meet the standard, can’t we just train diligently in martial arts, work hard on our bodies, and gain experience in real combat to become martial artists?” Guo Sanyuan argued, though his face was pale.

This was what most students wanted to believe.

A flicker of amusement crossed Lin Hao’s eyes, but he quickly masked it with a look of solemnity. Inwardly, he thought, “Such ignorance.”

Those were merely comforting words for the masses—ordinary people didn’t know the truth, but martial families with access to privileged information understood well. The claim that experience in real combat could help break through to enlightenment was, in truth, a slogan promoted by the military to encourage soldiers to fight fearlessly—a carrot dangled before their eyes.

What real combat could compare to fighting on the front lines of the military? Anyone who believed such tales was either a fool or already dead.

A rare few, neither foolish nor dead, might, in the crucible of life and death, shatter the shackles of their spirit and break through to higher spiritual realms.

Of course, those who survived such trials would achieve greatness. Life and death could bring sudden insight and spiritual breakthrough.

But this method was akin to raising venomous insects—far too dangerous to recommend widely. The survivors were undoubtedly strong, but the price in lives was simply too high.

On the battlefield of a racial war, even victory under such methods was, in truth, a kind of defeat.

Thus, those with any background always chose the safest path for advancement. Experience could be accumulated slowly; life could not be replaced.

This was also why martial arts universities thrived—compared to the military’s methods, they were more humane.

Of course, there was an old saying: Heaven never bars one’s way. There was another method, pouring vast resources to compensate for innate shortcomings...

Wei Yunyun’s eyes, however, revealed a hint of pity.

Those classmates with access to more information all sighed in silence.

Even Sun Kai, who had already decided to pursue a future in the humanities, wore a wry smile.

Xiao Nan, catching all this out of the corner of his eye, suddenly understood.

No one was truly ignorant; everyone could see that failing the spiritual test before eighteen did not mean the path of martial arts was forever closed. Rather, the cost simply outweighed the benefit.

The martial academy’s policy, tied to the nationwide promotion of martial education, was primarily to protect ordinary people—a policy not easily changed by the pleas of a few.

Of course, the authorities might have their own version of the story.

Yang Yankun’s explanation was like a bucket of cold water: “There is precedent showing that without reaching the meditative stage in spiritual cultivation, one cannot activate the body’s latent power for true transformation. At best, you reach your physical limits, but breaking through to a higher martial rank is extremely difficult.

“But with meditative spiritual power, you can practice the Spirit-Forging Method; your spirit aids the cultivation of vitality and blood, and you have a chance to reach Third Rank Martial Artist.

“Tell me, would martial arts universities rather admit a student who cannot break through, or one with the potential to reach Third Rank? The same resources yield vastly different results.”

“What about Fourth Rank? Does that require an even higher spiritual realm?” Wei Yunyun’s clear voice rang out, echoing the confusion of many.

“Yes. Ranks Four through Six are known as the Middle Three Ranks, for internal refinement. They involve the internal organs, bone marrow, and essence, all requiring far more resilient spiritual strength. Compared to the external refinement of the Lower Three Ranks—muscles, bones, and skin—the requirements are different.”

His eyes glimmered with hope as he looked at Wei Yunyun. “This is the potential of martial arts. Wei Yunyun, your spirit can already achieve deep meditation. With one more push, if you can grasp the true meaning of the second spiritual stage, ‘Sitting in Forgetfulness,’ your potential will be even greater, and so will your accomplishments.”

The students now understood: spiritual power from “Stilling Thoughts” to “Meditation” was the first stage, granting potential for the Lower Three Ranks in martial arts.

“Sitting in Forgetfulness” and “Fetal Breath” were the second stage of spirit, granting potential for the Middle Three Ranks.

As for what spiritual realm supported the Upper Three Ranks, Yang Yankun did not say, nor did he wish to.

It was too distant to consider. Among those present, it was uncertain if even one could reach the potential of the Middle Three Ranks.

In the entire Yuanjiang First High School, only Qin Shuang had broken through to the “Sitting in Forgetfulness” stage in her sophomore year, and had already been recruited by a prestigious university. In Senior Class One, only Li Shaohua was rumored to be on the threshold of “Sitting in Forgetfulness”; perhaps he had already broken through. He was a promising candidate for a top school.

If his vitality exceeded 4.8, as some claimed, he would surely be admitted to Donghai University. For those from well-off backgrounds, as long as their spirit and vitality met the standards, technique was never an issue. They had plenty of secret skills and rare techniques.

As for the present, his gaze fell on class president Lin Hao. Though not a candidate for top universities, he was an excellent student and should have no trouble getting into the provincial key martial arts university.

Yet, in most years, only two or three students from Yuanjiang First High School managed to get into a key university.

Still, Yang Yankun felt a twinge of regret. He had devoted his life to education, poured his heart and soul into his students, yet had never taught a student who made it to a top university. There was always a sense of something missing.

“All right, enough small talk. Let’s get to the main point. Today’s lesson will be different. I will use the spiritual power of the ‘Sitting in Forgetfulness’ realm to temper your minds with the ‘Five Aggregates Mind-Refining Method.’

“Although we have soul-nourishing incense to protect you, those whose spiritual realm is insufficient should leave the classroom now, lest your nature be harmed.”