A thoughtful silence settled over the meeting room after Karl's opening remarks. Every member of the Elder Council understood that this discussion would shape the future of their family for generations to come. Unlike many ordinary decisions, the breathing method they created would likely become the foundation upon which every future descendant cultivated. That responsibility alone was enough to make even the oldest elders straighten in their chairs.
Karl looked around the room before tapping the whiteboard with the marker in his hand.
"Before we begin designing anything," he said calmly, "there is one important misunderstanding that we all need to clear up."
Everyone immediately turned their full attention toward him.
"The reason the System announced that humanity becomes adults after reaching Stage One wasn't simply a symbolic statement," Karl continued. "Gaia meant those words literally."
Several confused expressions appeared throughout the room.
Until now, most people had assumed the announcement was merely a ceremonial way of recognizing humanity's first major cultivation milestone. Very few had considered that the System might genuinely classify pre-Stage One humans as children. Judging by the information Karl had just gathered, however, that assumption had been completely wrong.
He picked up one of the thick reference books lying beside him.
"According to the material released alongside the announcement," Karl explained, "humanity's current condition is highly unusual."
He slowly opened the book to one of the marked pages.
"The human body was never originally designed to coexist with mana. If the System had not intervened when mana first appeared on Earth, approximately ninety-five percent of humanity would have died before successfully adapting."
The room fell completely silent.
Even Arin frowned as he processed that number.
Ninety-five percent.
It was an extinction-level mortality rate.
No wonder the System had intervened so aggressively during humanity's earliest encounters with mana. What many people viewed as restrictive rules now appeared to be carefully designed safeguards preventing civilization from collapsing before it even had the opportunity to begin cultivating properly.
Karl continued before anyone could interrupt.
"And according to the same material," he said, lightly tapping the page, "this isn't unique to Earth."
He looked around the room.
"Apparently, most intelligent civilizations experience similar mortality rates when first exposed to mana. The System exists primarily as a regulator to guide developing races safely through that transition."
That revelation changed the atmosphere considerably.
Many people had secretly wondered why the System imposed so many seemingly unnecessary restrictions upon humanity. Hearing that those restrictions existed to prevent near-total extinction suddenly placed everything in an entirely different perspective. Whether people liked the rules or not, they had clearly served their intended purpose.
"So," Karl continued, "what we currently call Stage One..."
He paused briefly.
"...is essentially the point at which a child becomes a true adult."
Several elders slowly nodded.
Viewed from that perspective, the terminology suddenly made perfect sense.
Everything humanity had accomplished until now had merely been preparation. Their years of cultivation, physical training, and careful absorption of mana had all served a single purpose: preparing fragile human bodies to safely survive adulthood in a mana-rich world.
Karl smiled faintly.
"There's more good news."
The room immediately became more attentive.
"According to Gaia's classification," Karl continued, "individuals born after mana appeared will naturally mature into Stage One."
A few surprised murmurs spread through the room.
"So long as they develop normally and receive proper guidance, reaching Stage One is no longer expected to be an exceptional achievement for future generations."
The older members exchanged astonished glances.
That single statement completely changed how they viewed humanity's future. What currently required years of difficult cultivation would eventually become as natural as reaching physical adulthood. The children born into the age of mana would grow up fundamentally different from the generation forced to adapt midway through their lives.
Karl allowed everyone a few moments to absorb the implications.
"They will simply be known as Mortals."
A gentle smile spread across his face.
"And according to the System..."
He looked directly toward the two oldest elders present.
"...a Mortal possesses an average lifespan of approximately three hundred years."
Silence lasted only a fraction of a second.
Then the entire room erupted with excitement.
The two elderly family members laughed louder than anyone else, their eyes shining with genuine happiness. Although they had accepted their advancing age with remarkable dignity, no one could deny that an additional two centuries of healthy life represented an extraordinary blessing. Even the younger members could not suppress broad smiles upon hearing such incredible news.
The excitement gradually settled.
Karl chuckled quietly before raising a hand.
"I thought everyone would appreciate hearing the good news before we moved on to the difficult part."
Soft laughter spread throughout the room.
Unfortunately, reality soon returned.
"Now," Karl said, rubbing his forehead with a tired expression, "let's discuss designing our own breathing method."
A collective sigh escaped several people simultaneously.
Everyone knew that creating an entirely original cultivation technique would be anything but simple. If even the System considered those methods important enough to individually review, the process clearly demanded extraordinary care.
Karl turned toward the whiteboard once more.
"The basic requirements are actually quite straightforward," he explained while writing several keywords onto the board.
He drew a simple outline of the human body.
"Up until now, our cultivation has focused almost entirely upon allowing mana to gradually soak into our bodies."
He pointed toward the illustration.
"The absorbed mana strengthened our muscles, bones, organs, and overall constitution while preparing us for Stage One."
He paused briefly.
"From now on, that changes."
Everyone listened intently.
"Stage One cultivation requires us to actively gather and store mana inside the body rather than merely absorbing it."
Karl carefully underlined the words Gather and Store.
"Our objective is to continuously increase both the quantity and quality of the mana we possess."
The explanation became increasingly technical.
"That stored mana will gradually strengthen both our physical body and our soul while simultaneously providing a far greater reserve of energy during combat."
Several elders began making notes.
The concept itself sounded simple enough.
The real difficulty lay in deciding exactly where inside the human body that reservoir should be established.
Karl anticipated the question.
"In order to accomplish this," he explained, "we must establish a central location where mana naturally accumulates."
He drew two circles upon the diagram.
"Fortunately, the System's documentation identifies two practical locations."
Then he hesitated.
"Well..."
He smiled awkwardly.
"Technically speaking, there are three."
The room immediately became curious.
Karl pointed toward the head.
"The brain."
Nobody looked particularly enthusiastic.
Karl quickly shook his head.
"I strongly advise against it."
Several people blinked.
"The brain is simply too delicate."
He folded his arms.
"One mistake during cultivation..."
His expression became unusually serious.
"...or one unexpected surge of stress during battle..."
He slowly shook his head again.
"...and congratulations."
"You've just become brain dead."
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
Several people instinctively swallowed.
No one felt particularly interested in experimenting with that option anymore.
Karl quietly erased the circle around the brain.
"That leaves us with two practical choices."
He pointed toward the chest.
"The heart."
Then he pointed toward the lower abdomen.
"And what Chinese cultivation traditions refer to as the lower dantian."
Seeing a few puzzled expressions, he clarified further.
"In simpler terms, the area located slightly below the navel."
He set the marker down.
"My personal recommendation is the heart."
Karl looked around the room.
Our family has spent generations learning about the human body and how it interacts with nature, and at the center of all of it was the Heart.
He folded his hands behind his back.
"The lower dantian may ultimately prove equally effective, but we simply lack sufficient practical knowledge to confidently build an entirely new cultivation system around it."
The elders quietly considered his reasoning.
After several moments, no objections appeared.
One after another, the members of the Elder Council nodded their agreement.
The decision seemed obvious.
At least, until Arin slowly raised his hand.
"Grandfather," he said respectfully, "I don't disagree with choosing the heart."
Karl immediately turned toward him.
"But I do have one question."
The room became quiet once more.
Arin leaned forward slightly.
"Does the choice actually make a practical difference?"
He briefly glanced toward the diagram.
"Or is this simply a difference in cultivation philosophy that Gaia recognizes equally?"
The question immediately caught everyone's attention.
Only then did several elders realize they had been so focused on following Karl's explanation that they had never stopped to question the underlying assumptions. They exchanged embarrassed glances before turning back toward Karl, suddenly curious about the answer themselves.
Karl smiled warmly.
"Excellent question, Arin."
There was unmistakable pride in his voice.
"I'm especially pleased that you weren't simply swept along by the pace of my explanation."
He gave an approving nod.