Cultivation science, alchemy science, rune science, magic circle science. All shared so communities but they were NOT to be understood to be the sa, especially at the highest level.
Yoon Sun-young’s anti-magic would have disrupted this delicate mass of Qi too. It was why he did not risk a battle with her. Dasha Pang’s state was like a cracked bottle evolving into another material entirely. It was now or never.
The first hour, nay, the first day was agony.
Dasha Pang sat cross-legged in the chamber, his breath steady, his body still. Peace was necessary here. But within him, an internal war raged. The Qi inside his ridians was not yet tad—it tore through his body like a raging current, wild, untethered, too vast for mortal hands to grasp. The Golden Pellet he sought to form could not be created in a single mont of inspiration. It required repetition, control, submission of the body to the demands of an entirely new existence.
Swirling the three Dantians once or twice or three tis was not enough.
Millions of motions and circulations were necessary. Hundreds of hours of dedication were required.
Dantians were not ford from simple knowledge. Students were more than aware of what a Dantian was. However, knowing and doing were two separate matters. Knowing and doing was what separated the ones who would forever stay in diocrity and the greats.
The atmosphere of the Territory was perfect.
’Dense in Qi like the forest but more chaotic. ssier. Denser.’
All that was left was to commit. There were no great masters here, no ancient sects or divine teachers guiding his hand. Dasha Pang sat alone in the darkness of his own mind, forging ahead without a lantern to light the way.
He needed to imprint the process into his spiritual bones.
The triple Dantian circulation was an art only the greats in history had ever perfected. The coordination of three internal whirlpools—each one governing a different aspect of existence—was a task so complex that most would spend centuries refining the smallest fraction of its true potential.
But Dasha had no centuries.
He had one week.
And he would succeed.
The Lower Dantian, the Middle Dantian, and the Upper Dantian.
Swirling, swirling, swirling.
Forming, forming, forming.
His veins shifted between red, blue, and black. His veins could feel themselves popping from the absurd Qi laying within him.
By the end of the second day, his body was on the verge of collapse.
His breath was controlled and never allowing itself to be ragged or weak. Sweat beaded along his skin and his ridians trembled under the weight of the strain. Every cycle of Qi circulation was an assault on his own limits, forcing his internal pathways wider, deeper, stronger.
Again.
The Lower Dantian swirled first, a vast whirlpool of raw power. Foundation. The source of all strength. It spun once, twice, three tis, faster and faster until the Qi began to rise, lifting upwards toward his Middle Dantian.
Here, willpower took hold.
Emotions had to be controlled, directed with a ruthless focus. A cultivator who failed at this step would find themselves drowned by their own unrefined Qi, their mind cracking beneath the pressure of uncontrolled power.
The Qi stabilized.
Now ca the true test—bringing it to the Upper Dantian, where the mind and spirit converged. The smallest mistake here could shatter him. His consciousness wavered as the Qi rose, like a violent tide battering against a fragile dam.
Too slow, and the circulation would fail. Too fast, and his spirit would break apart.
It took an hour just to get the flow right.
And then, he did it again.
And again.
And again.
By the ti the second day ended, his Qi had cycled over ten thousand tis. His body rembered. The pain no longer mattered.
On the third day, he began the true refining process.
Until now, he had rely been creating pathways. Laying the groundwork for what would co next. But forging the Golden Pellet required more than just perfect circulation. The Qi itself had to be purified, condensed beyond recognition, transford from re energy into sothing higher.
He inhaled deeply, eyes shut, his mind sinking into the depths of his own being.
Too much imperfection.
The Qi within him was still too coarse, too untad. Each breath of the Territory’s corrupted air brought in impurities, and though his mastery of Tu Na Breathing allowed him to filter so of it, the sheer volu of toxicity around him was astronomical. See, without a master, the Territory was slowly unwinding. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the sa way one might ss up the Core Formation.
A lesser Cultivator would have died by now.
Dasha devoured it.
Not just absorbed—he refined the Qi of the centuries old Territory, forcing the filth through his ridians until it beca clean, useable. Every inhalation stripped away the poisons. Every exhalation left only power behind.
Hours passed.
Then another full day.
He did not move.
His Core began to take shape.
By the fourth day, ti had beco aningless.
Dasha no longer felt the chamber around him. He no longer registered hunger, exhaustion, or the aching weight in his limbs. His existence had narrowed to a single task.
His Qi was dense now, thick and heavy. It had been reshaped, no longer the wild torrent it once was. With every cycle and following of pathways, it moved smoother, sharper, more precise. The chaotic currents had been honed into sothing akin to a blade.
The triple circulation had been perfected.
Now, he needed to compress.
The first attempt was a failure.
The mont he tried to concentrate his vast Qi into a single point, his ridians revolted. The whirlpools shattered, his internal pathways shaking under the sheer resistance. A cold spike of pain shot through his chest, nearly breaking his concentration.
But Dasha Pang did not break.
He simply adjusted.
His second attempt was smarter. He listened to the rhythm of his Qi, rather than forcing it. The Lower Dantian funneled into the Middle, the Middle into the Upper, and then, instead of fighting against it, he allowed it to return to the Lower.
The cycle repeated.
Over and over.
The compression began.
By the fifth day, the pain had beco sothing else.
A constant pressure. Not unbearable, but not ignorable either. It was a sensation he had never experienced before, as though his entire being was caught between creation and destruction.
His Qi had started to compact, folding in on itself like a collapsing star. With each cycle, it grew denser, heavier, moving toward sothing greater.
He could feel it.
The Golden Pellet was beginning to form.
He reached the threshold.
And he kept going.
The sixth day was a blur of repetition.
By now, his body was acting on instinct. His circulations were flawless. His Qi had reached a point of incomprehensible purity. It no longer carried traces of the Slums or the han’s Territory—he had refined it beyond what should have been possible.
The Golden Pellet was so close.
He could feel it, a core of condensed Qi, swirling at the center of his being, almost ready.
One last push.
One final refinent.
The seventh day ca.
Dasha Pang opened his eyes.
And the world shook.
The Golden Pellet had ford.
His Qi had changed. The air around him vibrated with the sheer presence of it. His breathing felt different. His ridians were reborn, no longer straining under the weight of his power, but embracing it.
He had done it.
No teacher. No guidance.
He had forged the Golden Pellet alone.
In a world where the very Qi was poisoned.
He was the Great Genius, after all.
He stood. His legs felt light, his body weightless, as if gravity itself had loosened its grip on him. He clenched his fist and felt the difference.
He had not simply grown stronger.
He had transcended.
Dasha Pang was no longer a cultivator on the precipice of Core Formation.
He was Core Formation. It now sat in the soul of his belly.
He took a breath. The chamber felt small now. The air was stagnant beneath him. He had spent a full week reshaping himself and the world had yet to catch up.
It would.
Because Dasha Pang did not wait for the world.
He left it behind.
*********
Core Formation (Early Stage)
Subtype: Support
Rank: S
Learn to focus all three Dantians and connect the three whirlpools of imnse Qi. As a result, a Golden Pellet or Golden Orb is ford; the cultivator has successfully concentrated their cultivation base into an almighty orb. Internal Healing is automatic. Primary elents manifest as outward Qi, either as a mish-mash or a singular elent. Balance of yin and yang is necessary. All stats increase by 650.
Ideally, it is wiser to establish individual Dantians before forming a Golden Pellet. The genius of the user, Dasha Pang, has circumvented this and further amplified the Golden Pellet. All stats increase by 100.
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