Chapter Fifty-One: The Marvelous Uses of the Primordial Spirit

In essence, it all comes down to strength. Once you are strong enough, problems cease to be problems. Like a great mountain, what could possibly obscure its sight, what could possibly stand in its way? His thoughts wandered and returned, and Zhou Yi fixed his gaze upon the attribute labeled “Spirit,” his eyes filled with anticipation.

Previously, with the Mountain Reliance Blade Technique, he could still assign points for improvement. Yet, upon reaching the peak of the acquired realm, he found himself unable to increase it further, stuck just above 99 out of 100. Only after this recent breakthrough into the innate realm did he finally overcome the bottleneck—a testament to its difficulty.

At first, Zhou Yi believed this was due to something missing, but now he understood exactly what that missing piece was. It wasn't just the Mountain Reliance Blade; something even more elusive was at play—the Spirit.

Almost every attribute on the panel could be improved with points, except for the Spirit. The Mountain Reliance Blade, at least, allowed incremental progress up to a certain stage. But the Spirit? From the very beginning, it was as immovable as stone, impervious to all efforts, utterly unyielding.

With no other recourse, he had to put it aside, waiting for the opportune moment. Perhaps, he thought, when his power reached a certain realm or he fulfilled certain conditions, he would then be able to enhance it. That moment had finally arrived. Upon breaking through to the innate realm, Zhou Yi suddenly grasped the reason behind his inability to add points to the Spirit—and, crucially, how to resolve it.

It all came down to the Spirit; in simpler terms, the soul. The soul is the most vital aspect of a person—without it, one becomes a walking corpse, devoid of consciousness, incapable of thought, no different from a stone.

Yet, the soul, like the body, begins as something ordinary, capable of gradual improvement through training. When he first arrived in this world, Zhou Yi had only an average physique, but after more than four years of rigorous cultivation, his physical capabilities increased a hundredfold.

Enhancing the body was not particularly difficult—indeed, with his golden finger and dedicated training, it was even straightforward. The soul, however, was different. Formless, intangible, unseen, and unfelt, yet undeniably real. Training the soul by physical means yielded little, if any, effect—almost negligible.

By the numbers, in the more than four years Zhou Yi spent in this world, enduring untold hardships and exhaustion, his body improved a hundredfold. His soul, on the other hand, had only reached a strength of five, unless one counted the breakthrough to the innate realm—merely a fivefold increase. Even with the gains from his breakthrough, it only reached ten—a tenfold increase, still far less than his physical progress.

Buddhism calls the mundane world a sea of suffering, emphasizing the need to use the body as a vessel and the soul as the ferryman. To cross the sea of suffering, both the vessel and the ferryman must be strong.

Zhou Yi found this Buddhist perspective quite insightful, but he also had his own realizations. Only upon breaking through to the innate realm and entering the mysterious state of unity with heaven and earth did he truly understand the role of the soul.

On the battlefield, the soul is the commander, while everything else is the rank and file. The number of soldiers one can command depends on the strength of the commander. History tells of great generals: some could command ten thousand, others a hundred thousand, and some a million. Han Xin, for example, was renowned for saying, “The more, the better”—his capacity was limitless.

Such is true ability. The previous bottleneck with the Mountain Reliance Blade arose from the insufficiency of his Spirit—the commander was not strong enough. The reason he could not improve the Spirit was simply because he had yet to understand how to strengthen it.

Physical attributes could be improved directly through training—like having a key to a door, which, once opened, reveals a path. His golden finger was like a vehicle; once the door was unlocked, he could drive straight through—sometimes even fly.

But that was only the first stretch of the road. The second part required another door—a door only the Spirit could unlock. At the time, Zhou Yi did not possess this key, so the door remained closed, and all movement ceased.

Now, things were different. Zhou Yi understood how to enhance the strength of his soul—he had obtained the key. Unity with heaven and earth, communing with the world, gathering its spiritual energy, absorbing its essence, nourishing the Spirit and strengthening the soul—this was the key.

Now, key in hand, door unlocked, and a sports car waiting beyond, Zhou Yi needed only to fuel up and he could race ahead.

With this understanding, Zhou Yi realized even more profoundly the importance of the Spirit. The soul is not only the key to the second door; even more importantly, the stronger the soul, the greater his control over his body.

To command as easily as moving an arm or a finger—nothing could be more natural.

A group of soldiers with a commander is fundamentally different from one without—a matter of having a backbone. One hundred soldiers with a commander can easily defeat a hundred without, or even a thousand without much difficulty.

This is yet another distinction between the innate and acquired realms—beyond the gap in innate understanding.

Moreover, Zhou Yi now realized that, had he not grasped the method to strengthen his soul upon breaking through to the innate realm, his progress would have stalled at a new bottleneck, one unprecedented in its severity. Until he learned how to enhance his soul, he would be firmly stuck.

His body was indeed powerful, his inner strength deep, but that would be the limit. The governing range of his Spirit would reach only so far. Without finding a way to strengthen it, his physical prowess could never rise beyond the value of one hundred, stuck at that ceiling.

Even his inner strength would be similarly constrained, capped at the equivalent of two hundred years’ worth. With his current Spirit, he could only support his present level. More was theoretically possible, but he would lose the effortless, flexible control he now enjoyed.

Even if he were to stumble upon miraculous treasures or fortuitous opportunities that increased his inner strength or physical power, without enhancing the soul, such gains would be useless! They would become burdens—adding weight rather than strength, dragging him down instead of lifting him up.

It would be like having a barracks filled with soldiers who only consume rations and never follow orders—taking up space, eating for nothing, utterly useless.

The thought sent a chill through Zhou Yi.

“Thank goodness! Thank goodness!”