Novel & Cerita Seven Heavens Breathing Method

It was something he'd created himself, few years after attaining divinity. Normally, moving two cycles and opening acupoints would normally take an hour, at most, when one used the Eccentric Heavens method, and about two hours when one used the other easy-to-find cultivation methods in the market. However, when I used the United Heavens method which Old Ancestor had sent into my mind with a flick of his hand, back then, this two cycles true essence flow took just thirty minutes! Even the usually indifferent Teacher Haggz opened his mouth involuntarily. He wanted to say something, but held himself back, after a quick afterthought.

I’m going to die. Just breathe, Laura. You can do this, I tell myself. “Please, can I see your hands?” I’m far too in my head to protest. I raise my shaky palms towards the soothing voice. A soft hand clasps the back of my wrist, and an instant rush of calmness takes over my body. It makes my skin rise in pimples like an electric shock. “Okay, okay,” he says. “Hear me. Listen to me. Take down as much oxygen as possible, and when you breathe out, hold it for as long as you can. Four counts, six counts, eight counts. Each time, you move higher and higher.”

She couldn't, her own breath a series of short, useless gasps. "Okay," he said, his voice unshaken. "New plan. We count. Breathe in with me. One... two... three... four." He breathed in deeply, demonstrating. "Hold. One... two... three. Now out. One... two... three... four... five."

When I initially started playing professionally, I consulted a sports psychologist who taught me a breathing method. Breathe in carefully for five counts, hold the breath for five counts, and then release the breath on the fifth count. Five times over, repeat. I picture a spotless sheet of white while I work. A chilly air on my skin, a ring of boards and glass around me, enclosing and grounding me, and a huge slab of ice beneath my feet.

“Aria, is money really that important? Would you die without it?!” Staring into his bloodshot eyes, I nodded. “You’re right. Without it, I would really die.” He pushed me away in rage. “Fine! Then, drink it all! Drink until you’re satisfied!” My whole body felt weighed down and heavy, as if I was tied to a boulder. The artificial heart in my chest seemed to have stopped beating. I smiled faintly, took a shallow breath, and grabbed another bottle to pour it down my throat. Bryan, unable to bear it any longer, wrenched the bottle from my hand with a beastly growl, “Enough!”

Abigail said, barely above a whisper. Sky stepped forward and slipped her cloak from her shoulders. No weapon remained on her. No talisman. No borrowed focus. Just her. Her hair fell freely. Her hands held nothing. And beneath the earth, a small tremor answered. “Focus on your breathing,” Sky murmured. “Not your eyes. Not the magic. Let yourselves feel what the world forgot.” She closed her eyes and began to breathe—slowly. Not casting. Not summoning. Not commanding. Simply being.

My breath comes faster, chest fig‌hting for space. Come on. Move. I pres‌s a⁠gain, usin‌g my shoul‌der, my knee, anything. The sl‍ab shifts a few centimeters, en‌ough f‌or a breath of cooler air to snake throu⁠gh. I suc⁠k it in greedily, choking halfway.‍ My head spi‍ns, stars‍ b‌u⁠rsting behind my⁠ eyelid‌s.

"All I need is the rhythm." --- Selena Gomez ●●● Hands pushing me towards the bathtub. 'Ugly ass' 'kill yourself' 'Pussy' Were the only things I could hear. They finally push me down and keep me down by my shoulders. The instant I go into the water, the voices fade away. Underwater, I feel almost... Peaceful. Away from what the world is bringing for me. The water goes into my mouth. I am screaming 'help me, I can't breathe' but I can't even hear my own voice. No one can.

He thought so. He savored the relative safety he was enjoying again in the heart of this city, his hometown. So, he relaxed and concentrated, remembering the words of the master. Relax and concentrate on your breathing . . . don’t be disturbed by other thoughts . . . astral projection is a reality . . . then start with your fingers . . . move them in your mind, not physically.

He positioned himself below my line of sight so that when I lifted my gaze, I wouldn’t see a body towering over me—but someone deliberately small, vulnerable, harmless. “Listen to my voice,” he said slowly. “You don’t have to talk. Just listen. Breathe in with me… that’s it… breathe out. You’re here. Your feet are on the ground. If you want, tell me five things you can see. It’s okay if you can’t right now. I’ll stay.” His voice didn’t demand anything—no calm, no answers. It simply marked the rhythm, like a distant lighthouse. Little by little, through spasms and uneven breaths, air began to return. Clumsy. Irregular. But real.