Dharma-Body Dual Cultivation Is Hard...

The welling in my chest lasted only a moment. I promptly sank into deep focus on the Dao Bone Scripture — and my divine sense, which had reached forty jang, seemed to pour in without end, until something snapped into sharp view, as though a book were spreading open inside my head.

"Holy crap — what is this?"

A table far more detailed than anything I'd imagined had unfolded before me. It felt exactly as if I'd opened the book that surfaced in my mind, only for a status window to pop up in its place. And it was a sight I knew well; it looked precisely like the ones I used to stare at all the time back in my gaming days. The flavor of an ancient tome clung to it, sure, but this was, unmistakably, a status window. To think the book called the Dao Bone Scripture would slip into my body and turn into this.

Already, my heart was soaring.

"Gonna flex this right away... hmm. No, maybe not."

I couldn't say for certain, but even a counterfeit Dao Bone Scripture would be a rare treasure. And now that I'd laid eyes on it, I was finally getting a feel for these things.

"This one's genuine."

They said no complete original existed anywhere, so mine was surely a fragment — but even that fragment was spoken of as a treasure that could shake the world. And what would happen if I posted it to Yoseonbang? What if I let them catch even a whiff of it?

"That would be dangerous, no two ways about it."

That would be the moment they sensed something extraordinary about my origins, about the East — and who knew how relentlessly the demon immortals might come hunting me. When it came to cultivation, desperation was the one thing everyone shared; they would surely deem my very self a fortuitous opportunity.

"Time to start treading carefully."

Even now, the replies kept stacking up — comments demanding I cough up a review of the Dao Bone Scripture, each one written with the off chance of it being genuine in mind. Vanishing altogether was one option, but that would only invite suspicions of its own; playing the counterfeit was the right call.

I hadn't volunteered anything further, and they all seemed to take the counterfeit at face value. Perhaps it was just as well I'd never breathed a word about the book merging into my body.

A Dao Seed. It seemed to speak of a seed of the Dao — and that much I knew. The game had something like it: a seed of the Dao lodged in your head, and once it bloomed, you became a Heaven's Chosen, several times stronger than any ordinary cultivator. In common parlance, the senior disciples of the great sects were called Heaven's Chosen, but that was a phrase for outward show; a true Heaven's Chosen meant talent handed down by heaven itself. Most of the aptitudes and attributes the Dao Bone Scripture had shown me came with ceilings. Become a true Heaven's Chosen, though, and those ceilings shattered — and with them, the limits on how strong I could become.

"So if the Dao Bone Scripture becomes my Dao Seed and I raise it well... I could become a Heaven's Chosen too?"

My heart lifted. My head, though, was a tangle. If I was honest, I even felt dazed — because I could sense it, someone's deliberate will, bent on making me stronger. Becoming a munchkin was all well and good, but this was a bit much. I couldn't help but wonder whether it was the scheme of some ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠True Immortal.

"And yet... my name."

My name, dwelling within the Dao Bone Scripture. The feeling I'd sensed in that name had, beyond question, warmed me through — something wistful and aching all at once, an emotion laced with a tender sorrow like a mother's love, delivered plain as day. Thinking of it, what rose in me wasn't the wariness of some True Immortal's scheme so much as the love of parents who, tears swallowed back, had let me go.

"...Ugh, forget it. It'll work out somehow."

Worrying wouldn't get me anywhere. I muted the noisy Yoseonbang, returned to my quarters, ate a spirit fruit, and resolved to sleep long and deep. Too much had happened today. Sleep first, think later. Come to think of it, I don't have a Duskfall. Everything else under the sun, but why just the Duskfall... Somewhere in that drift of thought, I slipped into sleep.

A few days later.

I stood upon the training yard. The crafts room had been stuffed to bursting with treasured manuals — every craft imaginable, and every demon art I might take up. But I had no Duskfall, and no particular calling to any craft besides. And since a Duskfall was precisely what I lacked, heading out into the world to find one was a perfectly sound plan.

Then I'd simply have to grow stronger.

By the Dao Bone Scripture's account, my flood-dragon blood came with respectable aptitude for body cultivation. Spear and blade showed the most promise, and between the two, I took up the blade. Every manner of blade had been laid out and waiting, but the one I chose was thin and long. My transformed form was a girl's, and a young one at that — twelve or thereabouts. It suited her perfectly, I decided. And among my demon roots, the one with real talent was none other than lightning. If I was going to train at all, I judged it best to commit to that vein.

Innate bloodline. The Dao Bone Scripture had covered that too. Mine skewed toward lightning qi.

"Species: Purple Haze Flood Dragon. So I must be a flood dragon that wields violet lightning."

Which was why my innate bloodline took shape as a lightning root, talent and all. And so I settled on lightning for my Dharma and the blade for my body — my plan being to temper the two in tandem. Dharma-body dual cultivation. Come on, that sounds badass.

Truthfully, the path was never a favored one. Refining even one of the two took ages, and lifespan's limit always loomed first — and both at once? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠No one attempted that unless their years overflowed or they were the final boss of diligence. A whole lifetime spent honing a single one left you shy of heaven's end as it was. It was no different for demon beasts, though decidedly less severe than for humans. Take me ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— third realm, Demon Art stage, and already granted a full thousand years of life. The flood-dragon bloodline had likely stretched it well beyond the norm for demon beasts. In that case, dual cultivation was perfectly viable for me, wasn't it?

At any rate, that was the decision I reached after coaxing what advice I could from the Yoseonbang crowd and doing some digging of my own.

"Most of them said don't, but I can't resist the style points. Flood dragons are exceptional in both Dharma and body to begin with, after all."

I left the suffering to my future self and resolved to simply begin. Word was the Dao Bone Scripture even lent a hand with one's practice, so there was nothing to fear. Try it, and if it didn't pan out, do something else. Life was hard if you thought it hard, and easy if you thought it easy — that was all there was to it.

There had been a suitable cultivation art, too. A treasured manual with demon arts for both Dharma and body, going by the name Purple Haze Divine Thunder Blade — a gradeless dharma manual of nine stars in all, of a grade decent enough even to learn as a first art. Its mind method was the Purple Haze Thunder Mantra; its body method, the Divine Thunder Saber-Slaying Form — a manual split for Dharma-body dual cultivation. Tailor-made for me.

One look at the mantra's dry, abstruse verses and my head was already spinning. But boiled down to its gist:

"Forge thunder in every corner of your veins with your innate bloodline." That was the long and short of it.

Raise thunder with the purple lightning of my innate bloodline, then unfold the Divine Thunder Saber-Slaying Form upon that thunder. Simple enough. And so the training went on.

And then a year passed.

"Aaaaargh!!"

One year. Only after that much water had flowed under the bridge did I reach the first star of the Purple Haze Divine Thunder Blade.

"I'm supposed to have talent! I have a Dao Seed, don't I?!"

Then again... perhaps it was a talent that simply hadn't bloomed in earnest yet.