Wu Han turned sharply toward the cauldron.
His hand thrust forward, and runes exploded into the air.
One circle is formed.
Then ten.
Then dozens.
Then hundreds.
They expanded outward, overlapping and interlocking; each line woven into the next.
The inscriptions on them were all different—some symbols Luo Lan recognized, others utterly foreign.
The ritual grew into a vast, living structure of light.
Luo Lan trembled. Though she did not understand the art, the pressure alone made her chest tighten.
It felt as if her body had suddenly doubled in weight.
No—tripled. Quadrupled!?
"Ugh…" Luo Lan cried out as her knees gave way.
Her head rang as she nearly collapsed to the ground, as if the air itself had suddenly grown heavier.
"The way to create a Dao seed," Wu Han said. His voice sharp with excitement, "is to amplify one trait of your being to the extreme and bind it to a core element. In doing so, your body becomes compatible with the Dao you choose."
He turned toward her.
This time, Luo Lan saw something different in his eyes.
Something that drained the color from her face.
They were no longer human.
For an instant, she saw a black skeleton reflected within them—cold, hollow, staring straight through her.
"Ah—sorry," Wu Han said casually, covering his eyes.
When she looked again, they were human once more.
"The gift you brought me is far more valuable than you know. In return, I'll teach you what a true foundation is."
With a flick of his hand, the countless circles began to spin.
Slowly at first. Then, faster.
The air grew heavier with every rotation.
The liquid Qi inside the cauldron rose, flowing along the paths formed by the ritual circles, refined under his control.
At first, its volume remained the same.
Then it shrank to half.
Then half again.
Each time the Qi condensed further, the pressure in the chamber multiplied.
The space itself seemed to groan.
Luo Lan was forced to channel her Qi just to remain standing, her body trembling beneath the invisible weight, while Wu Han stood calmly at the center of the storm, smiling as if this crushing force were nothing more than a breeze.
"You know," Wu Han said, waving his hand as the circles contracted into his palm, forming a ball of light covered in intricate symbols and pathways, "humans like to divide the world into elements—fire, earth, wind, and water. The clever ones add lightning and metal."
"Those in the Flaming Cloud Sect choose fire and form a Dao of burning, sometimes even explosion. But burning is only ignited air, and explosion is nothing more than heat forced outward."
"And you chose the Dao of ice. A principle of water… and surprisingly, of fire as well. Ice is created by condensing water and draining heat from it. You were smart enough to understand that temperature itself could be controlled. I'll give you that."
Wu Han smiled as the orb of light in his hand grew smaller.
Then something went wrong.
Luo Lan's vision was distorted.
Her body lurched forward as if an invisible force had seized her.
She struggled to stand on her ground, but her clothes were pulled toward Wu Han.
Dust, stones, and debris followed, all rushing straight at him.
This was not wind. There was no flow, no turbulence.
Only a direct, crushing pull, a straight line of force dragging everything toward his palm.
"But those elements are only what exists in nature, things life recognizes because it lives within them, uses them, and sees them every day. In truth, what you grasp is nothing more than a tiny, insignificant fragment of the real diagram."
Even as Wu Han spoke, liquid Qi continued to shrink.
It became impossibly small, compressed into a point that should not have existed.
Yet the moment one looked at it, unease crawled up the spine, as if something vast and boundless were being forced to kneel inside something narrow.
"What are you doing?" She asked, fear creeping into her voice as regret followed close behind.
She knew he carried secrets, but something twisted in her chest when she looked at the orb of light in his palm. It was something no one should be able to create.
Wu Han did not answer at once. His gaze never left the object.
"How much do you know about the Foundation realm?"
She hesitated, then spoke carefully, repeating what her father had taught her since childhood.
"Fire, water, wind, and earth. These four must be refined to step beyond Qi Condensation and enter Foundation Establishment. And with a Dao seed, one gains a perfect foundation and no longer faces bottlenecks when reaching Core Formation."
A perfect foundation was reserved for those favored by heaven.
At present, Luo Lan has already perfected three.
Wind came from control, fine manipulation of Qi; smooth circulation without turbulence. She achieved this through the Origin Ember Heart Law and relentless training.
Fire was not flame, but endurance.
Breath, stamina, and the regulation of bodily heat. Years of meditation spent suppressing cold pain had tempered her fire until it burned steadily.
Earth was flesh and bone—muscle, resilience, the weight the body could bear. Every trial that pushed her limits strengthened body in turn.
Only water lagged.
Qi condensed into something tangible, stable without becoming stagnant.
Luo Lan stood at the edge of perfection.
Only one element remained. For others, it was the easiest.
For her, it was fatal.
Her Qi was frozen by nature, cold to its core.
If she attempted ordinary condensation without a specialized method, the Qi would solidify inside her meridians. Flesh would freeze from within. Death would come instantly; her body locked into an ice sculpture before she could even scream.
That was why the so-called genius of the town had never taken the final half-step into Foundation Establishment.
Even after she formed a Dao seed for it, it was still not enough to suppress the cold.
It would only let her advance halfway.
And she could not cultivate another elemental Dao either.
If she dares, her Dao seed would be destroyed by the extreme conditions of her own body.
"If you're talking about a life foundation," Wu Han said at last, "then you're correct."
He paused before adding, his tone mocking, almost insulting.
"But that definition is too narrow."
To him, the meaning of a foundation was something entirely different.
A divide so fundamental that one either grasped it from birth or understood it only when it was already too late.
"You're thinking of a small canvas," he continued.
As he spoke, the barrier in his hand shifted.
The condensed point of Qi at its center darkened, collapsing inward upon itself.
Even light bent toward it. And did not return.
The glow in his palm vanished and was replaced by pure darkness.
It was darkness so absolute that Luo Lan forgot how to breathe.
A primal fear seized her heart, deeper and more terrifying than anything she had ever seen or felt.
"Only when you see the true scale of reality," Wu Han said, revealing the ever-growing void, a focal point of the universe cradled within his palm, "will you understand what truly lies beneath."
A black hole.