Li Yuan sat cross-legged in the Realm of Questions, his consciousness beginning to observe the overall structure of his Zhenjing with a new perspective.
All this time, he had experienced his inner world as a direct experience—moving from one understanding's landscape to another, interacting with the roaming questions, feeling the resonance between various aspects of his consciousness.
But now, with a profound calm and unlimited time, Li Yuan began to see the underlying pattern of everything.
The Zhenjing has a shape.
Not a physical shape in a geometric sense, but a spiritual shape that reflected the organization of his consciousness.
It was like a cosmic circle.
Li Yuan began to visualize the structure of his Zhenjing as a giant mandala—concentric circles, each with a specific function and meaning.
At the absolute center—the Core Consciousness.
The deepest, most stable point, which served as the anchor for his entire inner world. Right now, Water shimmered there with a gentle but steady light—the source from which all his other understandings drew their harmony.
This is the heart of everything.
Li Yuan felt how vital this position was. Without a strong core, the entire Zhenjing would become an uncontrolled chaos. With Water at its center, all other understandings—even seemingly contradictory ones like Chaos and Silence—found a way to vibrate in harmony.
The first circle around the core—the Realm of Questions.
Li Yuan realized that the place where he was now sitting was not a separate area, but a ring that surrounded the Core Consciousness. Here, questions lived and moved like whispering stars.
"Why does water flow?" "Where does chaos come from?" "How can stillness and sound be one?" "What is the relationship between fear and love?"
Every question was a living entity that ensured his Zhenjing did not become stagnant. They were the breath that kept his inner world dynamic and growing.
If the questions die, the Zhenjing will collapse.
Li Yuan understood with new clarity why the Realm of Questions was so important. It was not just a place for philosophizing—it was a life support system for his entire consciousness.
The outermost circle—the Understanding Spaces.
This was where his seventeen understandings each occupied their own territory, spread along the circumference of the cosmic circle.
Li Yuan began to "see" them from a comprehensive perspective:
Water pulsated with a blue-green light, a vast ocean with gentle waves, a waterfall that flowed with a calm music.
Silence appeared as a paradoxical void—empty yet full of presence, silent yet speaking in a language deeper than words.
Existence shimmered with a golden light, affirming the reality of everything that existed in the Zhenjing.
Doubt moved like a shifting mist, never taking a fixed form, always opening up new possibilities.
Breath pulsed with a steady rhythm, rising and falling like a chest breathing, connecting all the understandings in a single cosmic rhythm.
Sky stretched without limits, a boundless blue dome that symbolized absolute freedom.
Body was solid and real, providing grounding for a consciousness that could fly too high.
Loss vibrated with a deep yet healing resonance, an empty space formed by a love that had departed.
Fear appeared as dark corridors full of shadows, but shadows that were familiar and no longer terrifying.
Wrapping moved like a thin, elastic membrane, protecting and controlling without blocking.
Soul shone with an encompassing warmth, containing five million other souls in the vast Sea of Souls.
Chaos Qi spun with a wild but vital energy, possibilities not yet realized.
Chaos was larger than Chaos Qi, a cosmic vortex that encompassed all forms of creative disorder.
Memories were stored in sparkling crystals of light, every memory preserved with perfect clarity.
Anger vibrated like a controlled fire, warm but not burning, protective but not destructive.
Emotions flowed like a colorful aurora, a full spectrum of human feelings.
And in a special position—the Oldest Breath.
Li Yuan realized that this most fundamental understanding was not on the circumference like the others, but it permeated the entire structure of the Zhenjing, from the core to the periphery, like a cosmic axis that connected all levels of reality.
The Oldest Breath is the foundation of everything.
Interactions between spaces.
What amazed Li Yuan the most was realizing that the boundaries between the understandings were not rigid. They seeped into each other, influenced each other, creating hybrid areas where two or three understandings met.
At the border between Water and Silence, he found a peace that flowed. At the meeting of Fear and Love (an aspect of Emotion), he found a beautiful vulnerability. At the intersection of Chaos and Silence, he found a creative void full of possibilities.
Everything spun in harmony, nurtured by the Water core.
Li Yuan felt the wonder of this organization. Even though he had seventeen very different understandings—some even seemed contradictory—they all worked together in a single, complete symphony of consciousness.
This is my personal cosmos.
Every person who reached this level of cultivation would likely have a Zhenjing with a different structure, depending on the understandings they achieved and the Core Consciousness they chose. But for Li Yuan, this was the perfect form to contain the spiritual complexity he had developed.
And the most beautiful thing—everything was alive.
Nothing was static in his Zhenjing. Water continued to flow, Silence continued to breathe, Chaos continued to move, Questions continued to emerge. This was a dynamic personal universe, constantly evolving, constantly deepening itself.
Li Yuan smiled at the majesty of his own inner world.
This shape is not something I created deliberately. It is a natural manifestation of how my consciousness is organized.
And in that shape, he found a beauty that reflected the beauty of the Dao itself—complex yet harmonious, diverse yet whole, always changing yet always stable within the change itself.
This is a true spiritual home.