Read Novel Full Chapter 452: Foundation
Chapter 452: Foundation
Kyrian remained standing before the mirror for several seconds.
His reflection stared back at him. His black hair was messy, some strands falling over his face, others stuck to his forehead by dried sweat that formed small dark stains on his skin.
There was dried blood near his nose and at the corners of his lips, dark red marks that contrasted with his pale skin.
His clothes were soaked with sweat, clinging to his body like a second skin, revealing the contours of his muscles.
And yet… He had never felt so good.
The newly formed small core pulsed gently at the center of his forehead, a constant, living rhythm, like a second heart beating in sync with the first.
Each pulse was a confirmation of its existence, a reminder that something new had been born within him.
Weak. Tiny. Almost insignificant. But it existed. It was real.
His own technique. His own path.
The Mirrored Third Eye.
Slowly, Kyrian stepped away from the mirror. The enlightenment had disappeared. That absolute clarity, where everything seemed simple and obvious, where connections emerged naturally, where the impossible became possible, no longer existed.
The state of grace that had guided him through the process of creation had dissipated like mist beneath the sun.
Now only his normal mind remained, still sharp, still fast, but without that supernatural perception that connected everything.
But that was enough. Because the hardest part had already been done.
The first step existed.
Now, he needed to transform it into something functional. Something complete. Something capable of accompanying him to the higher realms.
He left the bathroom.
The door creaked behind him, the sound echoing through the empty hallway, reverberating against the wooden walls.
He walked to the main room of the small courtyard house.
Books were still scattered everywhere, unstable piles, some on the verge of collapsing, others already fallen onto the floor, forming mountains of knowledge that seemed to grow larger each day.
Stacks of scrolls occupied the table, some open, others rolled up, all covered with notes written in black and red ink, filled with arrows, circles, and questions.
Meridian diagrams, thin lines running through the human body, invisible connections drawn with blue ink, acupuncture points marked with precision.
Notes about techniques, comparisons, analyses, hypotheses that had failed, but still contained valuable insights.
Qi circulation schemes, energy flows, transformation cycles, possibilities he had explored and discarded.
All of it seemed less chaotic now. As if a direction finally existed, a guiding thread connecting everything together.
Kyrian sat on the bed.
The wood creaked beneath his weight, the thin mattress sank slightly, and the springs protested with a low sound.
He removed a small jade bottle from his spatial ring, the pale green glass shining beneath the formations’ light, reflecting tiny points of light across the walls.
He opened the cap.
A herbal aroma spread throughout the room, fresh and invigorating, with hints of ginseng and mint, a scent Kyrian had long associated with recovery.
A recovery pill. Rank 5.
He placed it in his mouth.
The pill dissolved almost immediately, transforming into a warm liquid that flowed down his throat, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.
A warm wave spread through his body, beginning in his stomach, rising through his chest, descending into his arms and legs, reaching every extremity of his being.
The injured meridians, those that had been damaged by the failed attempts, by the collisions of Qi that had created tiny cracks in their walls, began to recover.
The small fractures, caused by excessive strain, by uncontrolled Qi collisions, and by the pressure of creating something new, were slowly restored.
The pain in his head, that constant throbbing that had accompanied him for hours, pulsing behind his eyes, diminished until it became only a distant echo.
His heart slowed from a rapid, irregular rhythm, as though trying to escape from his chest, into a calm, steady, secure beat.
His breathing became stable, each inhalation and exhalation deep and measured, as if his body were finally finding its natural rhythm.
Then, he closed his eyes. And entered a cultivation state. Silence filled the room.
Hours passed, the sun moved slowly across the sky, its light shifting angles through the window, creating shadows that danced across the walls.
The medicinal Qi circulated slowly, moving through his meridians like a gentle, constant, healing current.
Healing, repairing the damage caused by the strain. Strengthening, making his meridians more resilient, more prepared. Restoring, returning to his body the energy he had spent.
Only after feeling that his condition had completely stabilized, that his meridians were whole, that his body had recovered, that his mind was clear, did Kyrian turn his attention toward the true problem.
The next step.
His new dantian existed. But it was still incomplete. Very incomplete.
He immersed his consciousness into his own body, a descent that was now easier and more natural than before.
And he observed. The two ocular cores shone. Powerful. Stable. Majestic.
At the center of his forehead, the newly created small dantian pulsed.
It looked like a newborn star gazing at two suns, small, fragile, yet alive, pulsating, real.
Small. But alive.
Kyrian carefully analyzed the connections.
Then, he noticed something. His smile disappeared.
“Hm…”
The third dantian was connected to his eyes.
Perfectly connected.
The flow between them was flawless. Smooth. Continuous. As though it had always existed.
But that was all. There was no connection to the rest of his body. No connection to his meridians, the channels that ran throughout his entire body, carrying Qi to every organ, every muscle, every cell.
There was no connection to the energy channels created by the Bone of the Heavens, those broader, stronger, more perfect pathways.
It was like an isolated organ. It existed. It functioned. But it was disconnected from the rest of the system.
Kyrian remained thoughtful.
His fingers tapped lightly against his leg, a thoughtful, measured rhythm.
Then, he understood.
The third dantian had been born from the eyes as its foundation. Not from the body. Not from traditional cultivation. Not from the meridians.
It had emerged directly from the Mystic Eyes.
That was why it was connected only to them.
“So that’s the problem.”
His gaze became serious, his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing in concentration.
If it continued like this, the third dantian would have extremely limited usefulness. It would merely be an auxiliary reservoir. Nothing more.
But Kyrian wanted more. Needed more. He needed that core to become a true dantian.