The Life Wheel and the Life Palace were different.
One was born with them — born with an Innate Wheel and no training could change that; born with a Royal Fate and it would remain so.
Even an Immortal Emperor could not alter the innate grades of their wheel or palace unless they attempted the forbidden act of rewriting fate itself.
To cultivate was to balance three pillars — physique, life wheel, and life palace — none could be lacking.
The body decided the strength of one's bones and form;
the life wheel determined the vital energy and blood;
the life palace ruled innate talent and comprehension.
A saint‑grade wheel meant vital energy vast as an ocean — with the same technique, that practitioner would advance faster and strike harder than all others.
### The Lunar Vortex · Solar Wheel Technique
Li Qiye read and comprehended the Lunar Vortex · Solar Wheel Technique, drawing out its hidden meanings slowly.
The manual preserved in the sect was complete, yet what he remembered and understood of its true essence was far beyond what the scroll contained.
This technique had a long story.
He had poured countless years into it — in the early Eras of the Emperors, he had even considered teaching it to Immortal Emperor Mingren. Later, he abandoned that plan.
In those prehistoric days, both humans and demons were weak creatures struggling to survive.
One generation after another forged unto death, creating arts and methods that eventually built the flourishing worlds to come.
In that primeval age, a brilliant sage had created a shortcut to long life — the Lunar Vortex · Solar Wheel Technique.
It was a remarkably clever method, using a cultivator's own vital blood as an engine to drive the life soul and rapidly enhance their Dao power.
But it had a fatal flaw.
As Dao power grew, the blood energy eventually could no longer sustain it.
Once the blood failed to move the life soul, the path stalled; those who forced progress lost lifespan itself.
Li Qiye had encountered this art in the distant Primeval Era and taught it to many, but none achieved perfection.
Determined to repair it, he spent endless effort — even calling upon Immortal Emperors like Bloodseal, Mingren, and Sun‑Swallower to help refine it.
Only by the time of the Black Dragon King did he finally perfect it.
Now, reading through the scroll again, lost fragments of its essence returned to him one by one — memories once erased blooming again in his mind.
When the final understanding clicked into place, he closed the manual and exhaled deeply.
No one in this world knew — not the millions of years he had spent, nor the countless sages who had fallen trying to master this one art.
The copies he left behind in the Washing‑Dust Sect had tempted generations of geniuses, yet none had ever succeeded.
For three days and nights he pondered both Kunpeng's Six Transformations and the Lunar Vortex · Solar Wheel Technique.
When Nan Huairen still had not returned, Li Qiye remained calm. He was in no hurry to visit the Treasure Hall; instead he sat upon the lonely peak and began his practice.
He had sorted the two arts — the Life Art and the Longevity Law — and was ready.
Though he lacked talent, his experience was unmatched; none alive could equal him in cultivation insight.
Yet he did not seek speed.
Haste would only plant future seeds of disaster; he advanced step by step, solid and steady.
The Six Transformations guarded life and slayed foes; the Lunar Vortex · Solar Wheel nourished blood and extended lifespan.
Different methods, different paths — one tempered the Life Palace; one refined the Life Wheel. They did not interfere at this stage, each following its own way.
### Four Branches of the Dao
All cultivation arts could be grouped into four lines:
1. Longevity Laws, to nurture blood and extend life.
2. Life Arts, to guard fate and slay enemies.
3. Body Techniques, to temper body and marrow.
4. Heaven's Mandate Secrets, arts that bear Heaven's Will itself.
There was yet another type — Foundation Heart Laws, simple but universal methods that merged all three paths into one.
They nurtured blood, protected life, and built the body simultaneously.
However, though versatile, they were mostly lower tier in power — balance traded for strength.
And so, arts had ranks as well.
Those from Grand Sages were called Sage‑grade Techniques; those forged by Immortal Emperors were Imperial Arts or Emperor Techniques — peerless beyond compare.
Given equal talent and physique, a cultivator of Imperial Art would always outstrip one with Sage arts on the same path.
And as for the Heaven's Mandate Secrets — they were beyond all imagination.
Yet without a steadfast Dao‑heart, even the strongest art is meaningless.
Across eternity, how many geniuses had been consumed by their own power, mind devoured by the very Dao they sought?
Others, though born with Imperial Arts, failed to create their own Heaven's Mandate in the end — becoming tragic losers at the final step.
Li Qiye understood this better than anyone; hence, no matter how profound his secrets, he always cultivated methodically, step by step.
### Knocking on the Palace of Life
Practicing both arts at once, he guided the true essence of the Lunar Vortex · Solar Wheel to stir his Life Wheel.
Slowly, rings of light rose behind his head — like the growth rings of a tree, each rotating softly.
Blood qi flowed through those circles, unending as a river turned by a waterwheel.
For the flesh, blood qi was life itself — its ebb meant decay and death.
His own wheel was mortal, his blood moderate at best; thus his rings flowed slow and gentle, steadily circling.
A born Royal or Saint Wheel would churn like a flooded river, roaring like the sea.
Then he turned his mind to the Six Transformations, using its truth to strike his Life Palace again and again.
Every being possessed a Life Palace — the seat of true life, where the three souls and six spirits rested.
Hidden beneath the forehead in the Mud Palace Cavity, it could be revealed only through cultivation.
Responding to each strike of the mantra, the palace flickered into view — ancient and austere, radiant as polished jade.
His was a mortal palace, emitting only a faint glow; had it been a royal one, it would have blazed with majestic yellow light.
To practice the Dao one first had to open the palace — to awaken the sleeping soul within.
Hence, the first realm of cultivation was known as the Knocking Realm, itself divided into three stages:
1. Knocking the Gate – repeatedly striking the palace door with the Life Art until it responds.
2. Awakening – when the palace answers and the soul stirs.
3. Blood Surge – when life and soul unite, their light rushing forth.
Li Qiye persisted at the first stage.
Thump—thump—thump, the rhythmic sound echoed through his consciousness countless times.
He did not know how many thousand times he had struck — the palace remained silent, yet he did not stop.
For the truly gifted — especially those of saint fate — the palace opened easily. Some could awaken it with a single knock.
But Li Qiye was not one of them.
He could have taken an easier path — using the Lunar Vortex · Solar Wheel to drive all his blood qi at once, forcing the door open in a single burst.
Such a method would indeed open the palace, but it would scar his wheel and injure his soul, leaving hidden defects for eternity.
So he refused the shortcut.
Step by step, knock by knock, he built his foundation firmly, his Dao‑heart undisturbed.
Even if it took ten thousand or a hundred thousand knocks, he would continue until his palace responded.