Night at the lakeside, the bonfire dying to embers.
After days of frenzy, the cultivators had finally piled together a temple by the lake. Crooked and lopsided, yet decorated with utmost solemnity: golden banners hung from the gate, stone steles lined the grounds, each carved with the "Sacred Words of the Ancient God."
"Stir a few more times, or it'll stick."
"Too salty, use less salt next time."
"Fresh fish is needed to break through."
…
One after another, the steles glowed under the moonlight, endlessly worshiped by kneeling devotees.
In their eyes, this was no longer an ordinary lakefront, but the very descent of the Dao—the Divine Palace.
…
But the black-haired youth tossed and turned that night, unable to sleep.
"Damn it, these people hammering stones all night—how's a guy supposed to get any rest? Forget it, I'll see what nonsense they're up to."
He threw on a fur coat, stumbling out half-asleep.
Pushing open the temple doors, firelight illuminated a hall packed with kneeling bodies, shoulder to shoulder, row upon row.
Incense smoke filled the air. Thunderous murmurs of prayer washed over him.
"Ancient god, grant us guidance!"
"Ancient god, bestow your decree!"
…
The youth stared blankly, scratching his head.
"This temple… why's it so ugly? Crooked, and the stones don't even line up."
He muttered the complaint offhandedly, already turning to leave.
—But instantly, every cultivator inside shook violently, eyes blazing with fanaticism!
"Did you hear?! The ancient god has spoken!"
"'Crooked, stones not aligned'—he is chastising our unsteady Dao hearts!"
"This is a decree!"
Boom— The temple erupted into chaos, waves of kowtowing and wails echoing through the hall.
"Foolish disciples! Forgive us, ancient god!"
"Our Dao hearts were crooked—he reminds us to align with the great Dao!"
Someone broke through their shackles on the spot, tears streaming: "So this is it! The Dao must be straight, never crooked!"
…
The black-haired youth's eyes nearly popped out.
"???"
"I… I was literally just complaining that the building's ugly! Are you serious?!"
He turned away, muttering: "Forget it, back to bed. These people are seriously ill."
…
Yet his casual second remark—"Back to bed"—was instantly etched into stone.
"Sacred words of the ancient god: The Dao must not cling to obsession—one must rest in stillness!"
"So profound! So divine!"
Within moments, the nine heavens and ten lands shook with frenzy once more.
…
By the next day—
A new cultivation method swept the entire continent: Stillness Rest.
No longer did cultivators lock themselves in harsh seclusion or fight to the death for treasures. Instead, they lay down on beds, on the ground, even on fields, quietly sleeping.
"The ancient god said it—go back to sleep."
"This is the truth of the Dao!"
"While I slept, I actually broke through!"
Instantly, the whole continent was consumed by a craze of "sleep cultivation."
…
Meanwhile, sect masters were dumbstruck.
"Cultivation… can be advanced by sleep?!"
"This is the true heavenly way! What is bitter toil worth? Only the Dao of the ancient god is the true path!"
They issued decrees, carving into stone for the ages: "Decree of the ancient god—sleep is cultivation."
…
Back at the lakeside hut, the black-haired youth snored away on his grass mat, hugging his fish basket, mumbling half-coherently:
"Mm… tomorrow, catch some small fish… have them with wine…"
One disciple on night duty overheard and trembled in terror, running off with tears to spread the word.
"Sacred words of the ancient god! — To cultivate the Dao, one must have small fish, and wine!"
The nine heavens and ten lands were swept into yet another scripture frenzy.
…
And the true protagonist remained lost in sweet dreams—dreaming of himself fishing by the lake, with a pot of fresh fish soup bubbling beside him.
"So fragrant…"