Silent Dao Sovereign

Chapter 12: First Attempt

[Xu Mo's POV]

I had finally reached my residence after many twists and turns. The outer sect residences were located at the backside of the mountain, whereas the path I had previously taken led to the training and market area.

What was funny was that a disciple had been stationed at the exit of the Hidden Dragon's Staircase to guide me to my residence, but I had arrived faster than him, causing me to get lost and then found.

I apologized to the disciple, who had to wait for me for hours. He was kind enough to forgive me, leading me to think that there were still people in this world with a heart willing to help others, even at their own inconvenience.

The residences for outer disciples were separated into two different buildings—one for males and one for females.

They weren't built opposite each other but instead placed a considerable distance apart while still following the same path.

The good thing was that the sect's grounds were vast. Even with hundreds of disciples, it never felt overcrowded.

Stepping into my assigned room, I took a deep breath. The air was dry, carrying the faint scent of aged wood and dust. The space was small, almost barren, with only the essentials. Against the wall sat a simple wooden bed, its straw mattress uneven and thin, but far better than the cold, hard ground I had slept on before—after my adoptive parents' demise.

In the corner, a rough study table stood, its surface scratched and marked with faint carvings—names, strange symbols, and idle doodles left behind by past disciples. The rest of the room was empty, an open space meant for cultivation. A single paper lantern swayed from the ceiling, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.

No luxuries, no comfort—just a place to rest and grow stronger. I sighed and sat on the bed. This was home now.

I now had two options: cultivate using the technique given by the elder or…

Dao of Silence.

I closed my eyes.

And muttered.

Dao.

Inhale~

Of.

Exhale~

Silence.

I uttered these three words at an extremely slow pace.

I opened my eyes and looked around, but nothing happened.

I tried to recreate the feeling I had experienced that morning.

Once again, I closed my eyes, but this time, I recalled the injustices I had faced after my parents left this world. I tried to use emotions to stir that feeling. But again, it failed.

I attempted to draw upon every memory that resonated with me on a deeper level—first, my parents' sudden death, then the uncle who used to play with me suddenly taking away all the property my parents had owned before throwing me out. Me coming here to test my luck, awakening an extremely high talent, being offered the True Successor position—one below the Sect Master but above thousands—while I was still a mortal. Declining that offer and choosing to start from the very bottom.

"Strange. I remember the feeling when I first came into contact with this thing called Dao. I have memories of it, but it's as if I'm missing some sort of connection… The connection to the source from which that power first approached me."

I shook my head. I felt like slapping myself. In my excitement to start cultivating, I had forgotten the most basic yet most important truth about my current self.

I was still a mortal.

And what I—and every being—received blessings from was the Grand Dao.

How could I, a mere mortal who couldn't even control his own frail body, hope to command and tame something as vast and unfathomable as the Dao?

"Forget it. Let's see what technique the elder gave me."

I reached into the folds of my robe and retrieved a slender book, its worn cover carrying the scent of old ink and parchment. Though unassuming at first glance, each page held the weight of countless thoughts and wisdom. The fragile sheets were bound together by delicate, almost invisible threads—firm yet subtle, preventing them from drifting away like scattered leaves in the wind.

In this quiet, unassuming form, it carried a world of knowledge waiting to be unraveled.

Mortal's Primer on Cultivation

Flipping open the first page, I found a passage written in bold characters:

"Cultivation is the path of mortals who defy the natural order, seeking to refine their bodies, minds, and spirits beyond the limits of ordinary men. Through discipline, comprehension, and perseverance, one can step into the realm of the extraordinary."

I hummed, tracing the words with my finger. Straightforward enough.

Turning the page, I found a simple diagram—an outline of the human body with several points marked across it.

"Energy flows within all living beings. This energy, called 'Qi,' exists in the air, the earth, and the stars. Through breath control and meditation, a cultivator draws this energy into their body, refining it into personal strength. The first step is called Condensation—gathering the scattered energy within and forming the foundation of the path ahead."

Qi… energy from the world itself?

I exhaled, staring at the diagram again. So this was where it all began.

The next few pages described Qi Deviation, a terrifying condition where energy surged uncontrollably, leading to severe injury or even death.

"Without a stable heart and a clear mind, one may fall victim to inner demons—fragments of doubt, fear, and obsession that take root in the cultivator's spirit. These must be overcome, lest one stagnate and perish before ever setting foot on the true path."

I frowned, my grip tightening on the book.

Heart demons…

Even the first step on this path could break a person if they weren't careful.

I turned another page, finding a section about different cultivation realms.

"The first realm is Qi Condensation. It consists of nine stages, each one strengthening the body and refining energy until the cultivator reaches a point of breakthrough. Many fail at this stage, never able to move forward. The stronger the foundation, the greater the future potential."

Nine stages…

So I wasn't even at the first step yet.

I kept reading, absorbing the words as best as I could. Grand Dao? Dao comprehension? Meridian cleansing? Some terms felt too distant to concern myself with for now.

But as I turned to the final page, one last sentence stood out:

"For a mortal, the first step on this path is the hardest. Beyond it, one either soars… or crumbles to dust."