Li Yuan stood at the edge of the ice continent—the threshold between the white expanse that had been his sanctuary and the vast ocean that stretched without a visible end.
The wind blew with a steady strength, carrying the spray from the waves that crashed below, bringing the scent of salt and depth and vastness.
And Li Yuan felt something he rarely felt: an impulse to… release.
Not a release in the sense of abandonment. Not a release in the sense of giving up. But a release in the sense of letting go of a form that, while functional, was also… a constraint. A voluntary limitation that, for the journey to come, might not be necessary.
He felt his body of consciousness—水存之身 (Shuǐ Cún Zhī Shēn), the Body of Water's Existence—which had served him perfectly for thousands of years.
This body was a masterpiece of understanding. Constructed from three Understandings woven together with a precision born from millennia of cultivation:
The Understanding of Body as the blueprint—a blueprint that defined what it meant to have a form, to have a presence, to have a boundary that interacted with the physical world.
The Understanding of Existence as the tangible spiritual substance—the essence that made this body not just an illusion or a projection but something that had weight in reality, that could be felt, that existed with a solidity even though it was not flesh.
The Understanding of Water as the medium—the element that brought fluidity, adaptability, the capacity to flow and transform without losing coherence.
From this combination, his body of consciousness had remarkable properties:
Perfect fluidity—it moved with a natural grace, could slip through narrow crevices, was never awkward or constrained by the rigidity of a form.
Extraordinary adaptability—it could adjust its posture, subtly shift its proportions to fit an environment, harmonizing with space without forcing.
Tangible existence—it could touch and be touched, it could interact with the material world even though it was fundamentally spiritual in nature.
This body is an achievement, Li Yuan acknowledged with genuine respect. It is proof that consciousness can manifest in form without being bound by biological necessity. It is a way to walk in the world with a grounded presence even though I am a pure soul.
But now, standing at the edge of the ice continent with the vast ocean in front of him, he felt a… calling. An impulse to experience existence in a more fundamental state. A state he had not inhabited for a very long time.
The state as a pure soul without a body at all.
Li Yuan closed his eyes—a symbolic gesture because in the next moment the concept of "eyes" would become irrelevant.
He focused his awareness on the three Understandings that constituted his body of consciousness and he began to… unweave them. Carefully. Deliberately. With respect for the structure he had created but also with the firmness of a decision that had been made.
First, he released the Understanding of Water from its function as a medium.
The water that constituted his body began to lose coherence—not dissolving dramatically but gently separating, molecules that drifted apart with a slow grace, that returned to a state that was more natural for them.
His body became transparent. He could see through his hands, through his torso, like looking through clear water that had not yet decided on a shape.
Second, he released the Understanding of Existence from its function as a substance.
The sense of solidity faded. The weight—which was minimal but present—disappeared. The body that was already transparent now also lost the sense of being a discrete "thing," separate from the environment.
Third, he released the Understanding of Body from its function as a blueprint.
The blueprint dissolved. The boundaries that defined "this is me" and "this is not me" became permeable, became irrelevant.
And in a seamless but profound moment, the body of consciousness—水存之身—ceased to exist.
Not with pain. Not with struggle. Just… a release. A return of the component parts to an uncombined state, available for future use but not actively manifesting.
And Li Yuan remained.
But not as a visible figure. Not as a presence that could be seen by human eyes or touched by physical hands.
He existed as a pure soul—consciousness without form, awareness without a defined boundary, a presence that was real but which was completely spiritual in nature.
The sensation of being a pure soul without a body was… a profound liberation.
Not that the body of consciousness was a prison. It never felt that way. But it was… a vessel. A container. And now, without the container, Li Yuan felt… an expansiveness that could not be replicated when confined to a form.
I am not limited by space in the same way, he realized with a fresh wonder even though this was not the first time he had experienced this state.
A pure soul is not bound by gravity. Not dependent on the ground for support. Not constrained by the need to move through space in a linear fashion.
I can… be. Anywhere. Within a radius defined not by physical distance but by the depth of my Understandings.
He tested this awareness—gently, carefully, without pushing the boundary too hard.
He allowed his consciousness to… shift. Not fly in a physical sense but shift position in a way that transcended spatial constraints.
From standing at the edge of the ice continent, he was suddenly aware of being above—not with a specific altitude but with an elevated perspective, seeing the landscape from a vantage point that was not possible with a physical body.
And then—with a subtle intention—he shifted again.
Inward. Not into the ice literally but into the awareness of what existed beneath the surface, into the memories stored in the ancient layers, into the resonance that hummed in the depths.
And then outward—expanding his awareness until he sensed not just the ice continent but also the ocean that surrounded it, not with physical vision but with a direct, immediate knowing.
This is the freedom of a pure soul, Li Yuan mused with profound appreciation. Not limited to a single point in space. Not constrained by a rigid boundary. Able to exist wherever consciousness can reach.
But…
And this was a crucial realization, one that tempered the euphoria of freedom with the wisdom of understanding.
The true boundary is not space. The true boundary is the depth of the Understandings that sustain my existence.
A pure soul is not dependent on energy in a physical sense. It is not dependent on food or rest or the maintenance of a biological system.
But it is dependent—critically, fundamentally—on the stability of the Zhenjing and the coherence of the Core of Awareness.
If the Zhenjing is shaken, if the internal structure of my inner world collapses, then the pure soul has no anchor. No stability.
And without an anchor, consciousness can… unravel. Dissolve into the Dao. Lose individuality, lose the sense of "Li Yuan" as a discrete entity.
That is not death in a traditional sense. But it is… a final release. A return to a complete unity, where there is no longer separation between the self and the Dao.
Li Yuan felt this truth with a sobriety that grounded the euphoria of freedom.
That is why the stability of the Core of Awareness—心元 (Xīnyuán)—is critically important. The dual Core of Awareness of Water and Body, the 道脉 that flows with harmony, the Tree of Meaning that is rooted with firmness—all of this is what maintains the coherence of my pure soul.
As long as the Zhenjing is stable, I can exist in this state without risk. I can be free from the constraints of form without losing identity.
But if the Zhenjing were to ever become unstable—if cultivation went wrong, if a transformation overwhelmed the structure—then this freedom could become… dissolution.
This awareness was not frightening. Not paralyzing. Just… sobering. A reminder of the responsibility that comes with power, of the care that is necessary when operating at this level of spiritual existence.
Li Yuan allowed his consciousness to settle—not into a specific location but into a balanced state, one that was neither too expanded nor too contracted.
He existed as a presence that was invisible to human eyes but which was real in a spiritual dimension. A presence that could sense and be sensed by other consciousnesses that were sufficiently developed but which did not manifest in the physical realm.
In this state, I am free, he acknowledged. Free to move without the constraints of form. Free to explore without the limitations of a body. Free to experience the Dao in a more direct way because there is no interface of physical sensation to mediate.
But this freedom also comes with… an isolation. I cannot interact with the material world with the same directness. I cannot touch or be touched. I cannot communicate with beings that are not spiritually aware unless through a manifestation that requires effort.
It is a trade-off. And for now, for the journey to come, this trade-off is… appropriate.
He sensed the ocean below—vast, deep, alive with a consciousness that was diffuse but present. He sensed the air above—thin, expansive, carrying the scent of distant places.
And he sensed within himself—the Zhenjing that was stable, complex, containing eighteen Understandings with various depths and maturity. The 道脉 that flowed with the dual pulse of Water and Body. The Core of Awareness that was firm, that provided the necessary anchor to maintain coherence.
The Daojing is a very complex system, he mused with a mixture of pride—not an egotistical pride but the satisfaction of an achievement—and humility—the awareness that this complexity was not created but discovered, not owned but participated in.
Understanding upon understanding. Layer after layer. A structure that is organic, evolving, not static but living.
And now, with a dual Core of Awareness, with the 道脉 flowing, with a deeper Wenjing, with the experience as a pure soul unconstrained by form… this complexity is reaching a level that even I do not fully grasp.
I can sense depths that have not yet been explored. I can feel potential that has not yet been realized. I know—with a knowing that is not doubt but certainty—that there are even deeper layers, waiting to be discovered when I am ready, when the timing is right.
Li Yuan—now as a pure soul, as a consciousness without a visible form—began to move.
Not moving in a physical sense. Not walking or flying in a conventional way.
But shifting. Transitioning. Allowing his awareness to flow from one location to another with a grace that was not possible with a body, with a freedom that was unique to a purely spiritual existence.
He left the ice continent behind—not with a dramatic farewell but with a quiet acknowledgment, with a gratitude that was not spoken but which was felt.
The ice that witnessed his cultivation. The water that conversed. The silence that was honored.
All remained. All continued. But Li Yuan was no longer present in a form that they could sense with ease.
He existed now in a dimension that was more subtle, more fundamental, one that was closer to the essence of the Dao itself.
And the journey continued.
Without a body but with an intact consciousness.
Without a form but with a real presence.
Without a rigid boundary but with a firm anchor in the stability of his Zhenjing.
Free.
Aware.
Evolving.
Depth after depth.
Layer after layer.
A complexity that increased with every step, with every realization, with every descent into a more profound depth.
The Daojing—a system that has no known limit, that has no defined endpoint—continued to unfold.
And Li Yuan—sixteen thousand years old, four hundred years wiser, with a deeper Wenjing and an expanded awareness—existed as a pure soul that navigated the world with a freedom that was both exhilarating and sobering.
Without end.
As always.
In a beautiful complexity.
In an inexhaustible depth.
In a freedom that came with the responsibility to maintain the stability of what anchored his existence itself.
心元 (Xīnyuán).
The Core of Awareness.
The foundation of all.
Stable.
Firm.
Alive with a potential that has no bounds.
Like water that knows what water is.
Like a consciousness that is aware of itself.
Like the Dao that manifests through infinite forms, infinite states, infinite depths.
Without end.