Knowledge Pursues Man

“I once read a fragment of an ancient text,” Mu Li began, her voice steady as she recited, “‘I have heard it said: it is not that man diligently seeks knowledge, but that knowledge diligently seeks man.'”

“The meaning is exactly what it sounds like. It seems absurd, even nonsensical, but after long reflection and multiple experiments, I discovered that this statement was not made without foundation.”

“Lin Shao, let me ask you: if a piece of knowledge came to life, what do you think its greatest desire would be?”

Lin Shao rubbed his chin, pondering the cryptic quote. “To be known?” he offered tentatively.

Mu Li nodded. “Correct. As knowledge, its existence is only validated when it is known. Therefore, the instinct of knowledge is to be recognized, understood, and absorbed.”

Lin Shao whistled low. “That sounds a bit creepy. Luckily, knowledge is dead; it just sits there waiting for someone to learn it.”

Mu Li shook her head. “No, you are mistaken. In this vast world, there exist countless forms of ‘activated’ knowledge. They are all around us.”

Seeing Lin Shao’s look of disbelief, she continued, “I do not know how this knowledge becomes activated, but it exists. These active fragments instinctively seek humans to know them, understand them, and house them.”

“But… where is this knowledge? I don’t feel a thing.” Lin Shao looked around, even swiping his hand through the air, catching nothing but a breeze. He felt a profound sense of contradiction—he knew Mu Li wouldn’t lie to him, yet the information clashed violently with his common sense. It was like a citizen of a flat-earth society being told by a top scientist that the world is a sphere; he was caught between a lifetime of “truth” and a sudden, undeniable “conclusion.”

“Knowledge cannot exist independently of a medium.” Mu Li reached out, her fingers closing as if plucking something from the air, then slowly opened her palm toward Lin Shao.

Lin Shao looked. Her palm was empty, yet his intuition screamed that she was holding something.

“This activated knowledge has found the perfect medium—one that is omnipresent and required by almost everyone.” A faint glow emanated from Mu Li’s palm, turning into a colorless gas before dissipating into the surroundings.

“Heaven and Earth Origin Qi…” Lin Shao whispered, recognizing the substance.

Mu Li retracted her hand. “Active knowledge uses the Origin Qi that cultivators depend on as its vessel. It waits throughout the world for a practitioner to absorb it during cultivation.”

Lin Shao looked as if he had just swallowed a fly. “So this knowledge sneaks into our bodies while we’re absorbing Qi? That’s… kind of disgusting. And terrifying.”

Mu Li remained expressionless. “It isn’t terrifying. You inhale countless impurities every time you breathe, yet you remain lively and unharmed.”

Lin Shao realized she was right. Cultivators had existed for eons, and he’d never heard of anyone dying from “over-knowledge.”

“Origin Qi carrying active knowledge is a minority,” Mu Li explained. “Furthermore, most of that knowledge is destroyed when Origin Qi is converted into True Qi. Even if a small portion survives and integrates into your body, it is harmless. A typical cultivator might accumulate less active knowledge in a lifetime than the thickness of a single book.”

Lin Shao relaxed a bit, then asked the obvious question: “What does this have to do with increasing cultivation efficiency?”

“While such Qi is a minority compared to the infinite sea of Origin Qi, its absolute volume is still massive,” Mu Li replied. “For most, it is more than enough. Hou Xingyue’s problem is that his single Innate Spirit Meridian is too slow at absorbing and converting Qi. However, we can use the principle of ‘Knowledge Pursues Man.’ We make that knowledge actively seek him. When the knowledge merges into his body, the Origin Qi it is attached to stays behind. This efficiency is far beyond anything he could achieve through manual cultivation.”

It was as if a new world had opened to Lin Shao. He grinned. “That’s brilliant! Even when he isn’t actively meditating, the Qi will flow into him automatically. Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

Mu Li sighed softly. “There is no such thing as a free gift in this world. Everything has a price. The ancient text also said: ‘Its pursuit is profound and heartless, like hounds and hawks chasing a rabbit.’ It means the way knowledge pursues man is cruel and devoid of emotion.”

“Cultivating this way leaves too much active knowledge in the body. When it clusters, bad things happen.” She looked at Lin Shao. “The transition from Level 3 to Level 4 involves refining the Golden Core into a Nascent Soul. The Core is the furnace, the body’s essence is the medicine, and the spirit is the fire.”

“For a ‘Knowledge Pursuer,’ that Golden Core becomes filled with vast, chaotic, and redundant knowledge. Once it transforms into a Nascent Soul, it inevitably loses control. A ‘polluted’ Nascent Soul will kill its host. Because the Soul and the host are one, it cannot be destroyed. Unless one has extraordinary means, even a Level 7 cultivator cannot stop the collapse.”

Lin Shao was speechless. After a long silence, he muttered, “Then aren’t we hurting Hou Xingyue by letting him use this?”

Mu Li spoke coldly, “This is the only way I know for someone with a single meridian to catch up to ordinary people. Whether to use it is up to you.”

“However,” she added, “there is a way to avoid death: stop at Level 3 and never attempt Level 4. Furthermore, the Lingxu Sword has a great effect on Cores and Souls. After the Assembly, if we find the sword, we might be able to use it to purify the polluted Core and save him.”

Lin Shao thought for a while. “It’s not my decision to make. It’s Hou Xingyue’s. When he gets back, we tell him the pros and cons clearly and let him choose his own path.”

“He will use it,” Mu Li said with certainty, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “After all, you told him to leave no regrets.” She then looked at Lin Shao with unprecedented seriousness. “Regardless of his choice, you must never use this method. Do you understand?”

Seeing her so solemn, Lin Shao waved his hands dismissively. “I have four meridians; I’m practically a genius compared to him. I don’t need it. Besides, even if I wanted to, I don’t know the specific technique!”

Mu Li gave a cold snort. Just then, rapid footsteps echoed from the street, followed by Hou Xingyue’s voice.

“Boss Lin! I’m back with dinner!”

Lin Shao glanced at Mu Li. He decided that while they ate, he would lay out every benefit and every danger of this method to the boy.

In his heart, Lin Shao didn’t want him to do it. “Knowledge Pursues Man” sounded far too occult and dangerous. But as Mu Li said, Hou Xingyue would likely choose it anyway. All for the sake of leaving no regrets.