I continued my Qi training, absorbing the energy of nature—what this world called Mana, but what I knew as Qi. The process was slow, deliberate, and meditative. Each breath I took drew in the essence of the world around me, filling my body with a warmth that seeped into my muscles, bones, and veins. It was a familiar sensation, one that reminded me of my past life, where I had once walked the path of a warrior in the Murim world. Back then, I had faced countless trials, honing my body and spirit to their absolute limits. But here, in this new world, I was starting from nothing. This body was weak, fragile, and far from what I once was. Yet, as I absorbed the Qi, I felt a glimmer of hope. I could rebuild myself. I could become stronger than I had ever been.
As I trained, my thoughts drifted to the techniques I had learned in my past life. Among them, one stood out—a method of strengthening the body that was unparalleled in its effectiveness. It was the training method of the monks, a group of ascetics who had dedicated their lives to mastering the balance between body, mind, and spirit. Their techniques were legendary, and the most notable among them was the 'Sutra Iron Body'. It was a method that transformed the practitioner's body into an unbreakable fortress, capable of withstanding even the most devastating attacks.
The monks were known for their indomitable physiques and their fists, which could shatter mountains with a single strike. They were a mysterious order, often shrouded in myth and reverence. Though they called themselves Buddhists, I had always simply referred to them as monks. After all, they all looked the same to me—bald, serene, and radiating an aura of quiet power. But among them, there was one who stood above the rest. The highest rank of their order was known as the 'Bodhisattva', a figure who had attained enlightenment and the power to shape the world. Yet, despite their immense strength, they chose to remain in the cycle of rebirth, guiding others toward the same path of enlightenment.
I had once crossed paths with such a figure in my past life. He was the creator of the Sutra Iron Body, a man whose very presence seemed to bend the world around him. His body was a testament to his mastery of the technique—unyielding, unbreakable, and radiating an aura of calm strength. When I had faced him in battle, I was not yet at my peak. I was strong, yes, but not strong enough to defeat him. In truth, I had only survived because he had spared my life. That encounter had left a deep impression on me. Even after I had achieved great power and conquered the Murim world, I did not seek to kill him. Instead, I had asked him to teach me his method. It was a technique I had struggled against, one that had left me in awe of its sheer power and elegance.
The Sutra Iron Body was more than just a physical discipline. It was a philosophy, a way of life that emphasized balance, resilience, and the harmonious integration of body and spirit. The Bodhisattva had explained it to me in great detail, his voice calm and measured, as if he were reciting an ancient sutra. He spoke of the three stages of mastery, each one more demanding than the last. The first stage, Breath of the Earth, focused on building the foundation of the body. The second stage, Refinement of Spirit and body, deepened the connection between body, spirit and Qi. And the final stage, The Forging of the Iron Body, transformed the practitioner into a being of near-indestructible strength.
As I recalled these memories, I felt a renewed sense of determination. I would master the Sutra Iron Body once again. But first, I needed to absorb enough Qi to prepare this body for the rigorous training ahead. Three days had passed since I began my Qi absorption, and I could feel that I was ready. My muscles were stronger, my bones more resilient, and my spirit more attuned to the flow of energy around me. It was time to begin the first stage of the Sutra Iron Body.
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I settled into a cross-legged position, my back straight and my hands resting on my knees. The ground beneath me was cool and firm, a reminder of the earth's enduring strength. I closed my eyes and began to breathe—slow, rhythmic breaths that drew in the Qi of the earth. With each inhale, I visualized the energy flowing into my body, settling into my bones and muscles like a gentle tide. With each exhale, I released the tension and impurities, allowing my body to become a vessel for the earth's power.
This exercise, known as the 'Breath of the Earth', was the foundation of the Sutra Iron Body. It required complete serenity and focus, as well as an unwavering connection to the natural flow of Qi. The monks of Murim believed that the earth was the source of all strength, and by drawing on its energy, one could achieve a body as unyielding as the mountains themselves. It was a simple technique, but deceptively so. To perform it correctly required hours of uninterrupted meditation, a feat that tested both the body and the mind.
As I continued the exercise, I felt the Qi coursing through me, strengthening my muscles and bones with each passing moment. The sensation was subtle at first, like a faint warmth spreading through my limbs. But as the hours passed, it grew stronger, more pronounced. My body began to feel heavier, denser, as if it were being forged into something greater. It was a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one. It reminded me of the first time I had attempted this technique in my past life, under the watchful eye of the Bodhisattva.
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I had been young then, brash and overconfident in my abilities. The Bodhisattva had seen through my arrogance, as he always did. He had led me to a quiet grove, where the air was thick with the scent of pine and the sound of running water. There, he had instructed me to sit and breathe, just as I was doing now. At first, I had been impatient, eager to move on to the more advanced techniques. But the Bodhisattva had been firm.
"The Breath of the Earth is not merely an exercise," he had said, his voice calm but firm. "It is a lesson in humility. To master the Sutra Iron Body, you must first learn to listen—to the earth, to your body, and to your spirit. Only then can you begin to understand the true nature of strength."
His words had stayed with me, even after all these years. They were a reminder that strength was not just about power, but about balance and understanding. It was a lesson I had carried with me throughout my journey in the Murim world, and one that I would carry with me now.
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Four hours passed before I finally opened my eyes. The sun had shifted in the sky, casting long shadows across the ground. My body felt different—stronger, more resilient. The Breath of the Earth had done its work, laying the foundation for the next stage of my training. But I knew that this was only the beginning. The Sutra Iron Body was a demanding technique, one that required years of dedication and discipline. Yet, I was determined to see it through.
As I rose to my feet, I felt a sense of anticipation. The path ahead would be long and arduous, but I was ready. I had faced greater challenges in my past life, and I would face them again in this one. The Sutra Iron Body was not just a technique—it was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. And I would master it, no matter the cost.
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As I prepared to continue my training, my thoughts returned to the Bodhisattva. I remembered the battle we had fought, the one that had ended with him sparing my life. It had been a humbling experience, one that had forced me to confront my own limitations. At the time, I had been frustrated, even angry. But now, I understood. The Bodhisattva had not spared me out of pity, but out of wisdom. He had seen something in me—a potential that I had not yet realized. And he had chosen to guide me, rather than destroy me.
It was a lesson I would carry with me as I continued my journey. Strength was not just about power, but about understanding and compassion. The Sutra Iron Body was not just a technique for hardening the body, but for refining the spirit. And as I took my first steps on this path, I felt a sense of gratitude—for the Bodhisattva, for the lessons he had taught me, and for the opportunity to begin again.
The road ahead was long, but I was ready. With the Sutra Iron Body as my guide, I would become stronger than I had ever been. And perhaps, in time, I would find the answers I sought—about this world, about my past, and about the true nature of strength.