38: Chapter 26 The Resurgence of Faded mories (1) 38: Chapter 26 The Resurgence of Faded mories (1) Editor: Henyee Translations Qin Ming noticed that his younger self was dressed very poorly, but he was quickly drawn to the book.
The ancient book was very thin, and when opened, silk pages were revealed.
The beast-hide cover had likely been added later, its color was dull, its texture rough and durable, used to resist the erosion of ti and protect the true scriptures within.
On the first page was a record of the “wild thods” Qin Ming had practiced.
He knew it by heart.
A soft whispering voice began reciting the densely packed words.
Then the calloused hand turned to the second page.
The script was still small and continued seamlessly from the first, but now included so new text and illustrations, which imdiately caught Qin Ming’s attention, and he morized them quickly.
Or perhaps there was no need to morize them.
These were faded childhood mories, now returning as his second rebirth enhanced both body and spirit drastically.
The dust of ti was being swept away, allowing him to recall what he had once seen in that ancient silk book.
Half-asleep, half-awake, Qin Ming tried to turn to the third page, but he couldn’t.
The large hand never helped him flip it.
He began to study the silk book more closely, protected as it was by tough beast-hide.
Worn by ti, the book had lost its original luster.
It had yellowed slightly, radiating a sense of weathered beauty, rich with history.
It was indeed very thin, likely no more than twenty pages.
Qin Ming tried many tis to turn to the third page, but he couldn’t do it.
Instead, he gazed across the tattered passage of ti at his childhood self, a small figure in ragged clothes.
Even in this half-conscious state, Qin Ming felt moved.
So, his younger self had lived in deep poverty.
His faded little shirt was patched in places, the cuffs worn thin.
Looking down, even his tiny shoes had holes in them.
He sighed, thinking of his later years.
His youth hadn’t been easy either.
He’d suffered frostbite, gone hungry, bled, and been injured.
Two years ago, he collapsed from illness outside Yinteng Town and was brought to Shuangshu Village by soone who found him.
“When I was fourteen…” Qin Ming reached for the back of his head, rembering a wound there that had once bled profusely.
He realized he was awake now; it wasn’t a dream that led him to touch his head.
His fingers combed through his black hair and brushed against the spot that had once been bloody.
The scar was gone.
It must have disappeared during his first rebirth.
“My childhood self… My fourteen-year-old self… Two distinct turning points, fragnted mories.
Those faded faces often appear in my dreams.”
It was at fourteen that his life beca chaotic and difficult, which is why he was now more mature than others his age.
Qin Ming looked out the window.
The heavy night was slowly lifting.
He stepped into the courtyard and took a deep breath of icy air, recalling again the mories of his childhood.
The first two pages of the silk book were now clearly rembered.
He began to practice the techniques he hadn’t before—new movents, breathing control, and spiritual focus—carefully analyzing and refining them.
He continued for a long ti before stopping.
His body was still hot but no longer glowing.
It appeared more normal now.
“That rough, calloused hand…” Qin Ming thought back.
The cuff was badly worn, and the hand full of calluses showed clearly a life as hard as his childhood.
That hand’s owner had lived in poverty, far worse than Qin Ming’s current condition.
That so-called “big hand” was simply seen through the eyes of a child—large, strong, and full of safety.
He truly wished he could see that little hand’s held in the big one, to make up for the years of longing to see family again.
“The second rebirth isn’t over yet.
Tonight, I’ll keep eating the blood snake infused with spiritual energy.
As my physical strength increases, my spiritual power will rise too.
Maybe in the depths of my subconscious, I’ll recover more childhood mories.”
With this thought, Qin Ming’s eyes brightened, and his energy surged.
He picked up a heavy stone millstone and tested its weight.
It felt light!
He roughly estimated that he could now lift a thousand and five hundred pounds.
With dawn approaching, Qin Ming washed off his burning-hot body.
He didn’t plan to hunt in the mountains today.
Instead, he would focus on studying the new silk scripture.
“Why did that voice say it can’t be cultivated?” he wondered.
He hoped that by the deep night, he could find the answer in his dreams.
The silk book had an extraordinary origin.
It had been carefully preserved to prevent damage.
The wind and snow had stopped.
The night lightened slightly.
This was what passed for a “clear day” in an era without sunlight.
Qin Ming devoted himself to studying the silk book.
Though he’d only seen two pages, they were densely packed with tiny script and diagrams.
Most of the second page’s content was entirely new to him.
Since the mories had resurfaced, he had to ponder and train carefully.
“It’s exquisite… But it’s a pity I can’t compare it to interdiate ditation or advanced Qi cultivation techniques.
I don’t know where it ranks exactly.”
In this remote place, Qin Ming lacked formal rebirth techniques.
Aside from the silk book, he’d only read the widely circulated Intro to Midnight ditation.
The silk book ntioned sothing called Heavenlight, but it only touched on it briefly.
There were no instructions on how to cultivate the “Heavenlight Force,” and certainly nothing about the revered “Tathāgata Force.”
Qin Ming frowned.
The silk book was undoubtedly exceptional, so why didn’t it explain sothing as important as Heavenlight in detail?
He continued reading carefully, practicing in the courtyard.
Eventually, he ford a hypothesis: perhaps the book was written in a way to express the most with the fewest words.
By following the techniques diligently, Heavenlight would naturally arise from one’s flesh and blood, thereby strengthening one’s spirit, energy, and essence.
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