With the newly formed dual Core of Awareness—Water and Body breathing together—Li Yuan felt a deeper awareness begin to emerge.
It wasn't a new awareness but a recognition of something he had always known but had never articulated with such clarity.
An awareness of the body. Of boundaries. Of why he now existed as a pure soul rather than in a physical form.
He sat at the center of his Zhenjing and let a memory come—the memory of the moment that changed everything, that separated his existence into "before" and "after."
The memory of the battlefield. The memory of the child who almost died. The memory of the decision to let go.
The battlefield. Age thirty-two—the same age the Understanding of Body reached Ganjing in Yangzhou.
Li Yuan remembered with perfect clarity—no matter how many thousands of years had passed, memories in the Zhenjing don't fade, don't distort.
He remembered the war between the states of Qin and Lu. The horror. The chaos. Death everywhere.
And then—the child. A small child in the middle of the battlefield, an attack coming, no time for anything except action.
Li Yuan released his understandings.
Not one. Not two. But all—the ten understandings he had at the time, released simultaneously, without control, without limitation.
And the radius of that release… was more than a kilometer. Much more than a kilometer.
Everyone within that radius—soldiers, generals, even animals—was forced to see their true selves, to confront a truth they had avoided, to feel the resonance of ten understandings at once with an overwhelming intensity.
The battle stopped. Instantly. Completely.
But the cost...
Li Yuan's physical body could not withstand that resonance. It could not contain the spiritual energy that exceeded the limits a mortal body could tolerate.
His physical body was destroyed. Not explosively or dramatically. It just… dissolved. It became particles of light that dissipated, leaving only pure consciousness.
A pure soul.
Li Yuan opened his spiritual eyes in the Zhenjing and felt a truth he had always known but now understood with a new depth.
The physical body is a container of boundaries, he mused with profound clarity. Not in a negative sense of limitation but in an essential sense of protection.
In the Ganjing realm—where I had ten understandings at that time—the natural limit for expanding an understanding is one kilometer. Not because I was weak. Not because my understandings weren't deep enough. But because the physical body is a natural protector against excessive resonance.
The physical body is a membrane. A filter. A boundary that keeps an understanding from spilling directly into reality with uncontrolled intensity.
When I released all understandings beyond the one-kilometer radius, I exceeded the capacity of the container. The body was unable to withstand the resonance. And it was destroyed—not because it was attacked, not because it failed, but because it exceeded its natural limitation.
This awareness was not tragic. Not regretful. Just… factual. A recognition of a natural, unavoidable mechanism.
The physical body in the Daojing is not a superpowered body, Li Yuan continued to muse. It's not invincible. It's not immortal in a physical sense. It is an ordinary human body—with all the fragility that implies.
That is a deliberate design. Because if the physical body could withstand unlimited resonance, then there would be no protection—not for the practitioner, not for the world around them.
The one-kilometer limit in Ganjing is a blessing in disguise. It ensures that a practitioner does not accidentally unleash a resonance that could devastate a wide region, that could overwhelm the consciousness of all beings within a massive radius.
He felt an unexpected gratitude—not to himself but to the wisdom embedded in the Daojing system itself.
The physical body protects not only me but also the world from me.
But then—the moment after his body was destroyed—Li Yuan remembered the choice that was presented to him.
Not an external choice but an internal one, which arose from the depths of consciousness itself.
The first option: to become one with the Dao completely. To release the identity of "Li Yuan." To allow consciousness to dissolve into a complete unity, one that has no boundaries, no separation.
In that choice, there would be no "I" anymore. There would be no Li Yuan separate from the Dao. Just… oneness. Unity. Complete absorption.
The second option: to maintain identity. To remain as "Li Yuan"—a separate soul, an individual consciousness, even without a physical body.
In that choice, I would become a pure soul—existing without form, without physical boundaries, but still with a sense of self, with memories, with the capacity for growth and evolution.
Li Yuan remembered his decision—not one made with lengthy deliberation but with an instant knowing, which came from a depth that transcended rational thought.
He chose the second option.
I wanted to remain as "I." Not because I was afraid to dissolve. Not because I was attached to my identity. But because… I felt that the journey wasn't over. That there was more to understand. That becoming "Li Yuan" was valuable in itself—not just as a step toward unity but as a valid expression of the Dao.
And with that choice, I became a pure soul.
Existence as a pure soul was different from anything he had imagined before.
There were no physical boundaries. No limitations of flesh and bone. No hunger or thirst or pain in a material sense.
But also—no touch. No warmth of the sun on his skin. No texture of grass under his feet. No taste or smell or sensation from the physical world.
For the first few hundred years as a pure soul, Li Yuan remembered, I existed in a state that was almost like an eternal meditation. Without the distraction of sensory input. Without the need to maintain a physical body. Just… pure consciousness, which could focus entirely on cultivation.
But then I realized: I missed the physical experience. Not because I was attached but because… the body is a way to experience the Dao that cannot be replicated in a non-physical state.
The body is a language. The body is a text. The body is a window into the Dao that can only be read through incarnation.
And from that longing—combined with the Understanding of Body that had matured to Ganjing and the Understanding of Existence that provided an anchor—Li Yuan created something new.
A body of consciousness.
Not a physical body. Not flesh and bone born from a biological process. But a manifestation of consciousness—a body formed from the understanding of what "body" means and powered by the understanding that existence itself is a choice, an act of willing into being.
The Understanding of Body provided the form, he mused. The Understanding of Existence provided the presence. And from that combination, I could create a body that looked physical, that could interact with the material world, but that was fundamentally a spiritual construct.
This body of consciousness… it is not the same as a physical body. It does not have the same limitations. It does not age in the same way. It is not bound by biological necessity.
But it is also not invincible. It can dissolve if I choose to release it. It requires spiritual energy to maintain. And it has its own limitations—not the limitations of flesh but the limitations of my understanding of what "body" means.
And now—thousands of years later, sitting in the Zhenjing with the newly formed dual Core of Awareness—Li Yuan felt a more complete understanding of the relationship between the body and limitation.
In the Ganjing realm, with a physical body, the limit for expanding an understanding is one kilometer. That is a natural, essential protection.
But in the Wenjing realm—which only my Water Understanding has achieved—that limit is… different.
He felt into his Water Understanding that now existed in Wenjing and sensed its potential radius.
It was vast. Thousands of kilometers. Maybe more if he truly unleashed it without restraint.
But I never unleashed it completely, he realized. Because even though I am now a pure soul in a body of consciousness, I still remember the lesson from the battlefield. Remember what happens when resonance is released without control.
That is why I always wrap my passive Ganjing effects with the Understanding of Containment. Why I only allow my passive Wenjing effects within a five-centimeter radius of my body.
Not because I cannot expand further. But because I choose not to. Because expansion without wisdom is dangerous—not only for me but for all the consciousness that would be exposed to that resonance.
And then—a new insight, which came from the Body as a new Core of Awareness.
The original physical body—the one destroyed on the battlefield—was the true protector of understanding.
Not because it limited me. But because it grounded me. It anchored me in a physical reality that has laws, that has limitations, that has natural boundaries.
Without a physical body, I could expand resonance without limit. I could flood the world with Wenjing, with Ganjing, with all my understandings simultaneously.
But that would not be wisdom. That would be recklessness.
The physical body—with its natural one-kilometer limit in Ganjing—is a constant reminder: power without limitation is not a blessing. It is a danger.
And perhaps… perhaps in the higher realms beyond Wenjing—realms I have not yet achieved, which may not even have a name—that limit will expand again. Maybe there will be no limit at all.
But that will only happen when understanding has matured to the point where expansion is no longer dangerous. When consciousness has evolved to the point where it naturally knows when to expand and when to restrain.
Li Yuan felt a profound peace with this understanding.
I don't regret losing my physical body. It was a natural consequence of the choice I made—to save the child, to stop the war, to unleash my understanding beyond its limits.
And I don't regret becoming a pure soul. It gave me the freedom to cultivate without distraction, to explore the Zhenjing with a depth that was not possible if I were still bound by physical needs.
But I also understand now: the physical body is not a prison. It is a gift. It is a protection. It is a way to experience the Dao through meaningful limitation.
And the body of consciousness I created—even though it is not a physical body—is an attempt to honor that gift. To maintain a connection to the physical world even though I am fundamentally a spiritual being.
He felt the Understanding of Body vibrate with recognition—an awareness that now, with it as one of the dual Cores of Awareness, the understanding of the body would deepen in a way that was not possible before.
Twenty thousand years, Li Yuan mused with quiet anticipation. Twenty thousand years to explore what "body" means in all its depth—not just as a container or a boundary but as the Dao itself, as a language that cannot be replicated, as a profound gift.
And perhaps—at some point in that journey—I will understand how to reconcile the physical body and the pure soul. How to exist with meaningful limitation without losing the freedom I have gained.
Or perhaps not. Perhaps a pure soul in a body of consciousness is my final form. Perhaps that is the way the Dao chooses to express itself through me.
Only time will reveal. Only cultivation will show.
The resonance of the dual Cores of Awareness—Water and Body—spread through the Zhenjing with a harmony that never settled.
And Li Yuan sat in the awareness of boundaries, of containers, of the protection that the physical body provided and which he must now provide for himself through wisdom and restraint.
The physical body is the true protector of understanding, he whispered with spiritual resonance. And when the physical body is no longer there, then wisdom must become the protector.
That is the responsibility I carry. That is the reason I wrap my passive effects, why I restrain my expansion, why I choose limitation even though I could choose to be limitless.
Because power without wisdom is destruction.
And true cultivation is not about acquiring power but about acquiring the wisdom to use—or not to use—that power with appropriateness.
Peace.
Understanding.
Acceptance of what was lost and what was gained.
And a journey that continued—with a body of consciousness, with a dual Core of Awareness, with twenty thousand years ahead to explore the depth of what it means to exist in a form that is both grounded and transcendent.
The vessel and its boundaries.
Protection and freedom.
Limitation and expansion.
Breathing together.
Like Water and Body.
Like the individual and the universal.
Like the Dao that manifests through infinite paradoxes that do not resolve but which coexist in eternal harmony.
Without end.
As always.