The Taiji Diagram in his dantian continued its operation undisturbed, maintaining a steady cultivation state.
Only then did Bok Taejin feel at ease.
Since he couldn’t enter a fully focused state, he didn’t think forcing himself to cultivate would be particularly effective.
As long as the Taiji Diagram remained stable, with ti, his cultivation would inevitably soar.
By now, most of the life and death energy within him had already been transford by the Taiji Diagram.
Although death energy still dominated, the life energy was no longer as difficult to sustain as before.
Bok Taejin attempted to control the Taiji Diagram in his dantian, even just to shift its position slightly, but he still couldn’t do it.
Despite being sothing he had deliberately ford, it had completely escaped his control.
However, he understood that the Taiji Diagram was only beneficial to him.
The only reason he couldn’t control it was that his current strength was far too weak to manage sothing imbued with such profound Daoist essence.
Since he lacked the power to manipulate it, he remained calm and simply entrusted everything to the Taiji Diagram.
The next day, Bok Taejin got up and saw that Im Beomhyeon was still sleeping, so he headed to the backyard to check on the white radishes he had planted yesterday.
He had sown the eight seeds early in the morning, much earlier than the previous day’s planting.
As a result, the eight new seedlings had grown taller than the two that had sprouted by this ti yesterday.
The two radish seedlings he was planted earlier were growing at an even faster pace.
Bok Taejin observed them for a while, growing more and more delighted.
He even squatted down to examine the two larger radish seedlings that were growing close together, as if he could watch them gradually expand before his eyes.
In his past life, he had tried planting things in the city, but space limitations often stunted their growth.
Other tis, when he had finally managed to nurture healthy plants, the sudden full of work would keep him too busy to tend to them, leading to their eventual withering.
As a foodie he traveling frequently for tasting different kind of foods from different places, which often make him leaving his house for two or three days at a ti.
So delicate plants would deteriorate significantly by the ti he returned.
In the end, Bok Taejin had only grown much more strong green plants that required minimal care.
Growing vegetables at ho was sothing he could only dream about.
After transmigrating, he had finally fulfilled that dream—with more than enough land at his disposal.
It wasn’t until Im Beomhyeon ca looking for him that he was willing to get up.
"Brother Im? You woke up so early today?"
"It’s ti for porridge!" Im Beomhyeon looks still groggy with sleep, he had clearly not fully woken up—he had only gotten up because today’s al featured sothing rare.
But... porridge?
As Bok Taejin followed him toward the large kitchen, he asked, "How did you know we’d be having porridge for breakfast today?"
Im Beomhyeon shot him a look. "Didn’t you see the pot still cooking on the stove when we were eating dinner last night?"
Bok Taejin thought back carefully and finally recalled that after the outdoor clay stove had finished simring the soup, the fire hadn’t been extinguished but had continued cooking sothing.
"That was porridge? It started cooking that early?"
That ant the porridge had been simring all night!
Im Beomhyeon snorted. "What’s so strange about that? If porridge isn’t cooked long enough, what flavor would it have?"
Bok Taejin fell silent.
He didn’t understand any of this anyway.
If he asked further, Im Beomhyeon would probably just scoff at him rather than give a proper explanation.
The breakfast was relatively simple.
Although the whole village still ate together, it wasn’t as formal as dinner.
Instead of setting up all the tables and chairs, they placed two large bamboo baskets beside the clay stove to hold the big bowls.
Anyone who wanted porridge would take a bowl and scoop so from the pot.
Of course, there was still a large table next to the baskets, but it was used to hold stacked stears full of buns.
These were large stears, each capable of holding a generous number of big buns.
The buns were divided into two towering stacks—one filled with pickled vegetable stuffing and the other with at filling.
There was porridge, but Im Beomhyeon still grabbed a at bun first before ladling himself a bowl of porridge.
The people standing by the pot noticed him and, without waiting for him to say anything, scooped a bowl for him.
He took the steaming porridge and walked away, finding a spot where he wouldn’t block anyone’s path.
Like the others, he squatted down, taking a bite of his bun and then a sip of porridge.
Bok Taejin had originally intended to line up—the queue for porridge wasn’t short, with six or seven people ahead of him—but the person at the pot had already spotted him.
He waved him over with a smile. "Taejin, co taste the porridge our village makes first!"
Bok Taejin couldn’t bring himself to refuse.
If he started making polite excuses, he’d waste more ti than if he just accepted the villager’s kindness directly.
At this mont, he finally got a clear look at the village porridge.
It was pure white porridge, looking quite thick, but there was still visible liquid within it.
At first glance, the water-to-rice ratio seed to be around 1:1.
On closer inspection, the rice grains appeared broken, yet they also clung together as if they had been whole grains that sohow split apart during cooking.
He stepped aside and looked at the bowl, wondering if he could even drink it.
With such a thick consistency, it didn’t seem easy to pour.
But then he considered that everyone else was drinking it just fine.
When the villager had scooped his portion, it hadn’t stuck to the ladle, so there was no issue with actually drinking it.
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