In the depths of the Realm of Questions, Li Yuan began to feel something he could not ignore.
Resonance.
Even though his physical body was thirty thousand kilometers deep in the sea, and his consciousness was immersed in his own Zhenjing, the effects of his seventeen understandings did not stop radiating outwards.
They never stopped.
Li Yuan felt a subtle vibration continuously flowing from every understanding in his Zhenjing. Like a stone thrown into a calm lake, each understanding created a ripple that spread endlessly—passing through layers of water, crossing physical boundaries, touching every living thing in an extremely wide radius.
His Water Understanding vibrated with gentleness and flexibility. Every fish swimming within its radius of influence became calmer, more adaptable to changes in the current.
His Silence Understanding radiated a deep peace. Even in the dark depths of the sea, small creatures that were usually agitated while foraging now moved slowly, as if they were no longer in a hurry.
His Chaos Understanding vibrated with an irregular but vital energy. The water currents around him moved in a pattern that seemed random yet was full of life—creating small vortices that brought oxygen to places that were usually stagnant.
One by one, Li Yuan felt the passive effects of each of his understandings. And he realized something surprising.
I cannot escape my own understandings.
When he understood water, the nature of water—gentleness, flexibility, calmness—constantly influenced his soul. This was a blessing and a burden. His soul was always calm, but it was difficult for him to get angry even when he should have been. Difficult to refuse even when he should have. Too easy to give in, even in situations that required resistance.
When he understood silence, he tended to be too quiet. Even in Millbrook, he often did not speak even though his words might have been needed. Not because he didn't care, but because silence had become an inseparable part of his nature.
When he understood chaos, there was a part of him that was always a little... disordered. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made it difficult for him to follow a rigid routine or a too-detailed plan.
And this is just the effect on me.
Li Yuan felt the resonance spreading to the outside world with an alarming intensity. Everyone within its radius of influence—and that radius was very wide—would feel the effects of his understandings even if they did not know the source.
People close to his Water Understanding's resonance would become gentler, more flexible, but also perhaps less assertive. Those affected by the Silence Understanding would feel peaceful, but might also lose the motivation to act actively. Those affected by the Chaos Understanding would become more creative and spontaneous, but might also find it difficult to focus.
And I have seventeen understandings.
The realization hit Li Yuan like a cold wave. Seventeen different passive effects, all radiating simultaneously. Some complemented each other, but many were contradictory.
The gentleness of Water clashed with the burning Anger. The calming Silence collided with the moving Chaos. The tranquility of Sky rubbed against the worrisome Fear.
How do the people around me endure this contradiction?
Li Yuan remembered the Millbrook family. How they often seemed confused by their own emotions when they were near him. Anna, who was usually firm, suddenly became gentler. Thomas, who was usually patient, suddenly felt restless for no reason. Marcus, who was usually orderly, suddenly acted impulsively.
They had never complained, but Li Yuan now realized that his presence had caused them to experience an emotional turbulence they did not understand.
And I didn't even notice it.
In the Ganjing realm, passive effects were always active. Li Yuan had no control over the resonance he radiated. Like an uncontrolled flow, all effects poured out without a filter, without regulation.
Unless...
Li Yuan felt his Wrapping Understanding vibrate with a purpose different from the others. This understanding did not radiate a passive effect outwards—instead, it tried to wrap the passive effects of the other understandings.
But its efforts were not entirely successful. Like a cloth that was too small to cover an object that was too big, the Wrapping Understanding could only dampen some of the resonance that was coming out.
I need something else.
In the middle of the Realm of Questions, a new question emerged with high urgency:
"How can I live with seventeen understandings without harming the people around me?"
The answer came not as words, but as an insight that directly touched the core of his consciousness.
Core Consciousness. Xīnyuán.
Li Yuan did not yet have a true Core Consciousness. All this time, he had allowed all his understandings to vibrate with the same intensity, without a central axis that could act as a regulator and filter.
A Core Consciousness functions as a conductor in an orchestra of understandings. It doesn't eliminate resonance, but it regulates the intensity and harmonization between different resonances.
But how to choose a Core Consciousness?
Li Yuan contemplated in the stillness filled with questions. Which understanding should be the axis? The first one, Water? The most fundamental, Oldest Breath? The calmest, Silence?
But then he realized something.
Perhaps the Core Consciousness was not one of the seventeen existing understandings.
Perhaps the Core Consciousness was something born from the harmony of all understandings—a meta-understanding that emerged when one learned to accept and balance all aspects of the Dao they had touched.
Acceptance.
That was the key he had not fully understood all this time. Not rejecting the contradictory passive effects, but accepting them as part of the same Dao.
Li Yuan began to experiment with a different approach. Instead of trying to suppress or control the passive effects of his understandings, he began to accept them fully.
Yes, I am gentle like water. And yes, I can also be angry like fire when I see injustice. Both of these traits are not contradictions—they are different aspects of a complete response to the world.
Yes, I love silence. And yes, I can also embrace chaos when the situation requires it. Both are part of true flexibility.
When Li Yuan began to accept all aspects of his understandings as part of one complex harmony, something amazing happened.
The contradictory passive effects began to find a shared rhythm. Like musicians in an orchestra who initially played clashing notes, but then found a more complex and beautiful harmony.
The resonance coming from Li Yuan was still there, but it was no longer a confusing chaos. His passive effects became like a complex piece of music—sometimes gentle, sometimes strong, sometimes calm, sometimes dynamic—but always in a context that made sense.
This is still not perfect, Li Yuan realized. In the Ganjing realm, I still can't fully control the passive effects. But at least now the effects no longer harm each other.
Li Yuan felt that in the Wenjing realm, his Water Understanding was already beginning to be controlled in intensity. Not completely, but at least he could dampen or increase its resonance as needed.
Perhaps, as the realms ascend, control will get better.
What was important now was to understand that passive effects were not something to be fought or hidden completely. Passive effects were the Dao's way of expressing itself through the cultivator.
My task is not to eliminate those effects, but to learn to live with them in harmony.
Li Yuan smiled in the Realm of Questions, feeling his seventeen understandings vibrate with a new harmony—not perfect, still needing to be continuously adjusted, but no longer mutually destructive.
The uncontrolled resonance slowly became a complex symphony. And in that complexity, Li Yuan found a beauty he had never imagined before.
The journey to master internal harmony had just begun.