Chapter Eleven: The So-Called Cultivation

Given Yin Seventeen's small frame and the fact that he had just entered the training camp, it was absolutely impossible for him to snatch food in the midst of the melee. Owen was quite curious; without the help of a mentor, how would the boy resolve such an almost insoluble predicament?

“What else can I do but scavenge for leftovers?” Yin Seventeen muttered as he tackled the half-roasted chicken in his hands. “I don’t believe they’ll leave not even a single grain of rice behind!”

Watching his nonchalant demeanor, Owen shook his head and chuckled, “You’d eat leftovers? That’s humiliating! How would you ever dare stay in the camp after that?”

Yin Seventeen swallowed his mouthful of chicken and replied earnestly, “If I’m on the verge of starvation, what use is pride? I want to live!”

“Uh—”

Owen was utterly lost for words at his forthright answer.

“Of course, eating leftovers is only a last resort. I have a better alternative. Unless things get truly desperate, I won’t make such a disgraceful choice,” Yin Seventeen added after taking another bite of chicken.

“Oh? Tell me quickly!” Owen’s interest was piqued.

Yin Seventeen continued as they walked, “The sea is nearby. I plan to use the leftovers as bait, fashion a net out of clothes, and catch some fish to fill my belly.”

“I don’t think there’s any rule in the training camp forbidding us from finding our own food, right?” he said, casting an inquiring glance at his senior.

“That’s actually a good idea!” Owen gave a thumbs-up and laughed. “The training camp doesn’t stop apprentice warriors from seeking their own sustenance.”

“In fact, some necessities not provided here, we get on our own outside.”

Compared to scavenging leftovers, fishing was a much more acceptable way to stave off hunger.

The two chatted as they walked, and soon returned to their lodgings.

Glancing at the dim sky, Owen said, “Since we have nothing else to do, why don’t I tell you about cultivation?”

Night was falling, and he had no intention of going out again.

He led Yin Seventeen into his stone hut.

After lighting a fire in the center of the hut, Owen sat beside it and gently asked, “Do you know what the ultimate goal is for all apprentice warriors in this training camp?”

“That’s hard to say,” Yin Seventeen scratched his head and hesitated. “Some train for future riches after leaving the Sanctuary, some to become Saint Warriors—it varies.”

“No, I think you’ve misunderstood my point! Of course, part of it is my poor phrasing,” Owen said, shaking his head.

“What I’m asking is, what is the purpose behind the Sanctuary establishing this camp and cultivating apprentice warriors?”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it? To nurture true Saint Warriors!” Yin Seventeen answered without hesitation.

“Then, how does one become a true Saint Warrior?” Owen pressed on.

“By igniting the microcosm and donning the sacred armor!” Yin Seventeen replied seriously.

Owen poked at the fire slowly. “The prerequisite to wearing sacred armor is to ignite the microcosm. If you force yourself to wear the sacred armor without burning the microcosm, it’s nothing more than heavy metal armor.”

“In a sense, any warrior who can ignite the microcosm is qualified to wear the sacred armor.”

“But the number of sacred armors is limited, and compatibility matters; thus, the eighty-four sacred armors have never all been worn at once.”

“So, rather than saying the purpose of the training camp is to cultivate Saint Warriors, it’s more accurate to say it cultivates candidates for Saint Warriors.”

“Now, do you understand the ultimate goal of cultivation in the camp?”

He turned his gaze to Yin Seventeen by the fire.

“To ignite the microcosm and obtain its power!” Yin Seventeen replied earnestly, meeting that questioning look.

“Very good!”

Owen nodded, gazing at the fire. “This universe was born from the primordial Big Bang.”

“The force of the Big Bang gave rise to the cosmos.”

“The universe is composed of countless minuscule particles, and so too is our body.”

“In other words, our bodies and the universe are essentially made of the same stuff.”

“To be precise, we are part of the universe; in fact, we are the universe itself—a series of miniature, human-shaped universes.”

Yin Seventeen nodded without surprise or difficulty in accepting this view.

After all, in another Earthly world, he had already encountered such strange perspectives as an observer.

Meanwhile, Owen was astonished to see Yin Seventeen so readily accept this novel theory.

He himself had taken a full three days to embrace it.

This newcomer was indeed unusually clever!

After marveling to himself, he continued, “Each of our bodies is a microcosm, possessing infinite might. If we can harness the microcosm, we could easily tear open the sky and cleave the earth.”

“But do you know how to use the power of the microcosm?”

Yin Seventeen considered carefully. “Earlier, you mentioned you’ve already comprehended the sixth sense and plan to attempt igniting the microcosm in a year. I suppose the sixth sense is the key to using the microcosm’s power?”

“Exactly!” Owen smiled and nodded. “We are the microcosm itself, yet we cannot perceive it.”

“What cannot be perceived cannot be used.”

“It’s like a knife placed behind you—you don’t even know it exists, can’t see or touch it. Even if it’s within reach, you’re unable to use it.”

“The sixth sense allows us to perceive, touch, and wield the microcosm—it’s the key.”

“Do you know what the sixth sense is?”

He once again cast a questioning glance at Yin Seventeen by the fire.

“As far as I know, the sixth sense is an elusive intuition beyond the five senses,” Yin Seventeen said after a moment of thought.

“Close, but not quite right.”

Owen gazed at the flickering flames and said slowly, “The human brain perceives the world through five senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch. But that perception covers only the tangible world.”

“There’s also an intangible part that cannot be recognized through the five senses.”

“For example, our microcosm.”

“This sixth sense is rooted in our consciousness—it’s called the root sense.”

“To put it simply, it’s the instinct of life.”

With that, he grabbed Yin Seventeen’s hand. Under Yin Seventeen’s bewildered gaze, he suddenly thrust it into the fire.

Sensing danger, Yin Seventeen instantly withdrew his hand the moment it touched the flames.

“Senior, what are you doing?” He jumped up, shaken, and demanded loudly.

Owen calmly adjusted the fire, smiling, “That is life’s instinct—that is the sixth sense. Do you understand now?”