The Divine Trickster Emerges from the Sixth Cave

Luo Yu set aside the questions swirling in his mind for the moment, refocusing his attention on the ancient cave.

He was not content with the small piece of jade in his hand, nor did he believe that an immortal would eat, drink, sleep, and relieve himself all in this alchemical chamber—after all, even ancient tombs had various chambers for different purposes, and surely immortals would be even more particular. What function did this piece of jade serve? Its shape closely resembled the formation core he had seen before, only smaller, and it was placed in the corridor. Very likely…it was a small formation? Perhaps a gate? But then, how had he been able to discover it? Luo Yu realized this was the crux of the matter and, leaning against the wall, began to ponder deeply: first, he sensed the spiritual energy, then he touched it. If it truly was a gate and had fulfilled its purpose, then people should not be able to detect the alchemy room inside. In other words: it had failed—had an earthquake broken the formation?

Luo Yu examined the jade piece in his hand again: it was smooth and flawless, much like ordinary mutton-fat jade, lacking the intense spiritual aura of the other formation core. Now, holding it, the spiritual energy was so faint it was like a lamp with its oil nearly spent, its aura weaker even than the few pills he had given away—yes, this was the clue! It had lost its spiritual energy! Could it be that spiritual energy functioned like “electricity”—a power source and a consumable?

If…the gate’s formation had not been damaged by the earthquake and remained intact, perhaps it would not have leaked spiritual energy at all? Luo Yu was troubled by this: if there was no spiritual energy to sense, how could he possibly find a trace of it?

No, something still didn’t add up—when he first obtained this jade piece, it had nothing to do with spiritual energy! At the time, he had distinctly entered the “sleep paralysis mode” and saw it!

Excitement surged in Luo Yu. This “sleep paralysis” was akin to the “out-of-body” experiences spoken of in cultivation tales, and those who dabbled in the dream world called it “projection,” meaning “to wander the dreamscape while maintaining conscious thought.”

Practitioners of projection were divided into two camps: those who sought true “soul projection,” and those who favored “dream projection.” The latter looked down a bit on the “soul” camp, thinking they confused dreams with reality. For, when one attempted projection with perfect clarity of mind, they would simply wake up. Before any kind of projection, one had to first induce self-hypnosis, entering a state between muddled drowsiness and clear consciousness—a balance that was notoriously difficult to master.

Luo Yu had always belonged to the dream camp. When he first experimented, he tried to project while fully awake, but in the struggle to break free, he experienced suffocation (the author notes: this is a personal experience—don’t try this at home! Of course, the author might simply have failed to master the technique). After that, he never attempted it again.

But this time, he realized: the state he was in when he retrieved the jade was very similar to projection, yet he had not left his body, and his mind could still direct his actions. This was different from the state in dreams, where the body is paralyzed and at rest. This was a state he had never heard anyone mention before—perhaps he could try to recreate it?

No sooner thought than done. But where to attempt it? Luo Yu returned to the alchemy room, climbed onto the central platform, and after some thought, sat down in the “five hearts upward” meditation posture.

He breathed slowly, relaxing his body, and gave himself a mental suggestion: his body did not exist, he was empty, he was not sitting but lying down—he tried to evoke the sensation of lying down… Gradually, his body tingled with familiar numbness. Luo Yu knew this was the signal that sleep paralysis was setting in—time for his body to sleep. No, no, that wasn’t right; if his body fell asleep, how could he continue searching?

He realized he needed to keep his body involved. Luo Yu pondered: could he focus his awareness, projecting his consciousness while also remaining physically active? Not simply acting as one does when fully awake, but maintaining an intense, dreamlike vigilance of thought while moving his body—like sleepwalking with full lucidity?

Having made up his mind, he began to search for the feeling. Fortunately, he was already proficient at “focusing his mind,” able to enter the state within ten seconds—a feat that would take a novice half an hour at least.

Again and again, he tried; sometimes he slipped into paralysis, other times opening his eyes would break the state. Finally, Luo Yu tried with his eyes open.

In the cave’s dim light, a young man sat cross-legged atop the earthen platform, utterly still. His eyes appeared both open and closed, his gaze both empty and all-encompassing. As he sat there in silence, his presence seemed to dissolve into the cavern itself, as if he might turn to mist and vanish at any moment.

Suddenly, the youth stood up, his expression indifferent, his movements light and dreamlike, as if drifting in and out of sleep, an eerie smoothness in his every gesture. Yet descending the steps, his eyes flickered and the ethereal feeling dissipated in an instant. He paused, a look of mingled excitement and frustration crossing his face, and muttered to himself, “Damn, I finally did it!”

This youth was, of course, Luo Yu. After countless attempts, he had finally succeeded. He kept his composure, trying not to get too worked up, but his elation at stepping off the platform made him lose the state. It was like walking with a bowl of water balanced on your head—every step demanded utmost caution.

With this first success, Luo Yu thought he might try again standing up. After all, both his mind and body remained awake, so there was no risk of suddenly collapsing into sleep—as sometimes happened in lucid dreams, though usually people try while sitting or lying down.

He reasoned that everything comes with practice; skill comes from repetition, just as with lucid dreaming—he had failed at first, but later succeeded. This “lucid sleepwalking” must be the same, another means of mastering both mind and body. While he still couldn’t manage stairs in this state, perhaps he could try standing in place and moving from spot to spot?

With this in mind, Luo Yu tried several more times and soon discovered that “lucid sleepwalking” was far easier than maintaining clear thought in a lucid dream. In dreams, he could only stay conscious for about two hours at most, but with lucid sleepwalking, after just a few attempts, he was nearly proficient. Perhaps because, unlike in dreams where half his mind was muddled and subconscious thoughts constantly interfered, here he had total control. If his mind was a river, then in lucid dreams, he could only direct half the flow while the other half surged against him, quickly muddling his course. In lucid sleepwalking, he commanded the entire current, which moved always at his will.

Once he mastered the technique, everything else became easy. Luo Yu began searching the cave methodically, and at last, on the outer wall near the entrance, he discovered another anomaly.