O Caminho Celestial da Imortalidade

The fifth month's rainy season rarely granted the southern borderlands a clear day. Rain had fallen without cease the day before, stopping only at the hour of the Tiger, and now, at the early hour of the Rabbit, the sky hung heavy and overcast, great banks of dark cloud surging on the wind.

The sun lay buried beneath layer upon layer of cloud, only a few threads of golden light breaking through to announce that dawn was nearly upon them.

Yao Qian sat cross-legged atop the Enlightenment Terrace, eyes lowered to half-mast, drawing in wisps of morning solar violet breath with each measured inhalation. The violet breath entered through her mouth and nose like a current of warmth that was neither hot nor cold, passed through the layered passages of her throat, then dispersed into her four limbs and a hundred bones, nourishing every part of her body.

With her spiritual sense she guided a thread of violet breath into her cinnabar field, where it was immediately absorbed by another wisp of violet breath that radiated a faint purple luminescence. Looking closely at this second wisp, one could just discern that it had begun to take on the vague shape of a soaring dragon.

When the morning bell sounded to mark the end of early practice, the light of day gradually brightened. By then the violet breath had nearly dissipated and could no longer be drawn in — to continue would be to inhale the blazing solar breath, which could easily scorch the meridians.

For the disciples seated in meditation upon the Enlightenment Terrace, of course, it made little d