"I remember."
Seeing Fang Cheng bring it up, Lin Chuqiao adjusted the strands of hair around her ear and recalled:
"At that time, we discussed how meditation schools around the world are diverse, but whether itās Eastern Zen, Taoist introspection, or Western mindfulness meditation, transcendental meditation, or Indiaās yoga meditation, their core philosophies are very similar."
"All of them merely use methods like adjusting the breath and silently chanting a spell to forcibly cut off perception of the outside world, pursuing a state of āmeditationā and āstillness,ā ultimately allowing consciousness to sink into an ethereal realm."
She paused, somewhat puzzled, looking at Fang Cheng:
"Why did you suddenly bring this up?"
Fang Cheng did not answer directly, and instead spoke calmly:
"Thatās right, the mainstream practice emphasizes āstillness.ā"
"Most schools employ a process of reduction, stripping the five senses layer by layer, eventually consolidating all thoughts, uniting the mind, and anchoring on a special target in the consciousness world."
"But this time, Iād like to invite you to try a new method, a more proactive cultivation technique."
"A new method?"
Ye Zhiran adjusted his glasses, showing interest: "Iād be delighted to hear more."
"Itās very simple."
Fang Chengās tone became somewhat subtle, as if guiding them into a special realm:
"Tonight, when you meditate, try altering the target you habitually anchor on in your consciousness."
"Donāt think of some illusory white light or a still lake, nor the vague, grand shadow in your subconscious."
He slightly tilted his head, his gaze seemingly penetrating through the body, reaching into the depths of their souls:
"Try visualizing me first, silently reciting my name, and then let a sun, radiating golden light, gradually appear in your mind."
"The sun?"
Lin Chuqiao blinked, instinctively glancing at the setting sun outside the car window:
"Are you saying we should imagine you as the real sun?"
The remark sounded peculiar, carrying a hint of ambiguity and puzzlement.
Fang Cheng didnāt deny it; instead, a mysterious curve appeared at the corner of his mouth:
"You could understand it that way, but itās not just an imagination; itās a call at the spiritual level."
He slowed the car down, his gaze growing deep, his tone more distant:
"Compared to other meditation schools pursuing a āstillnessā that is tranquil and unmoved like an ancient well, this cultivation method is essentially a ādynamicā process."
"Imagine youāre in endless night and fog, lost, cold as ice."
"At that moment, a Great Sun rises slowly from the horizon, its golden rays piercing through the darkness like swords, shredding the fog."
"Youāre no longer waiting in place; instead, you follow that light, running and moving towards where the sun rises."
"As the distance closes, you will feel warmth, feel life gradually reviving, light filling your vision, until... you are completely bathed in that overwhelming life force."
Fang Cheng gazed at the setting sun outside the window, the golden-red afterglow reflected in his eyes.
His voice was low and magnetic, as if painting an incredibly majestic picture.
"A call... dynamic..."
Ye Zhiran listened, his brows slightly furrowed.
As an experienced spiritual ability user, he clearly captured the unusual behind these words.
He pondered for a moment, then spoke:
"President, although in some ancient Esoteric Buddhism schools, there are indeed Magic Techniques to visualize the Self Buddha or Master for spiritual empowerment."
"But this usually requires years of devotion and extremely complex rituals, even needing the masterās personal blessing to establish a spiritual link."
"Now just imagining you as a conceptual āsunā without any medium, will it really be effective?"
"Whether it will be effective, only by trying will you know."
Fang Cheng didnāt elaborate much, just lightly smiled, giving them a meaningful look through the rearview mirror:
"Perhaps, youāll see some... unexpected scenery."
After saying this, silence descended once more in the car cabin.
Outside the window, the bustling silhouette of the city gradually blurred in the twilight.
The distant skyscrapers lit up with scattered lights, complementing the splendid sunset on the horizon.
In a trance, there was a strange texture of reality and illusion blending together.
Seeing Fang Chengās mysterious demeanor, Lin Chuqiao couldnāt help but laugh softly, the initial hint of confusion transforming into curiosity:
"Alright, since itās your command, Iāll give it a try. After all, itās just meditation; even if it doesnāt work, thereās no loss."
"Indeed."
Ye Zhiran nodded.
Although doubts lingered in his mind, feeling it defied common sense, out of trust in Fang Chengās strength, he also decided to give it a try.
"Then tonight, Iāll try the method you mentioned, President."
Fang Cheng smiled, his gaze shifted back to the front.
He hadnāt told the two that this was actually a crucial experiment.
If successful, many unresolved problems would be easily solved.
The traffic on the highway thickened, with cars slowly moving across the river bridge.
In front, countless lights were already lit up.
After sending Lin Chuqiao and Ye Zhiran back to their residences, Fang Cheng drove towards Old Factory Street.
During the evening rush hour, the narrow streets of the old city were congested with all kinds of vehicles.
Electric scooters weaved nimbly through the gaps in the lines of cars like agile fish.
The sound of horns, shouts, and street vendorsā cries mixed together like a boiling pot of porridge.