Morning class ended, and Gao Yang had gained much from it.
On the way back, the Fifth Senior Sister quickened her pace to walk beside him. She sniffed lightly near his shoulder, her expression turning almost blissful. "Thirteen, won't you come to my room today?"
Gao Yang declined politely. "What the First Senior Brother taught today benefited me greatly. I plan to practice it right away. Perhaps another day, Sister."
She looked disappointed. "I was going to teach you how to refine the Blood-and-Qi Pill. Your Seven Fiends technique needs blood as its catalyst. Without those pills, your recovery must be quite slow, isn't it?"
Gao Yang raised an eyebrow.
He did need the Blood-and-Qi Pills, but the Fifth Senior Sister frightened him a little—her eyes gleamed with hunger, the kind that made his skin crawl.
Sensing his unease, she said, "Everything the First Senior Brother taught today—we already know. He said it mainly for your sake. Don't blame the Second Brother either; his temper's just like that. If you come to my room, I can explain today's lesson in greater depth—it'll help you understand better."
Gao Yang asked directly, "Why are you being so kind to me, Sister?"
She smiled broadly. "Because I covet the Immortal Pill inside you."
Her frankness almost made Gao Yang laugh with relief. He preferred open greed to hidden malice.
"What about before that?" he asked. "When you gave me the Blood-and-Qi Pill, I didn't even have the Immortal Pill then."
Her eyes gleamed. "Do you truly want to know?"
Gao Yang glanced at her bright eyes and wrinkled face, then nodded. "I do."
She chuckled softly. "Then come to my room."
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. After a brief hesitation, Gao Yang agreed. "Alright. I'll speak with Xiao Man first, then I'll come find you."
Back in his room, Xiao Man was tidying up. She had made the bed, replaced the old table, and cleaned everything until it shone. Then she caught some insects to feed the Seven-Colored Spider.
Watching the shimmering creature, Gao Yang reached out to touch it.
The spider suddenly spread its mandibles and raised its front legs, ready to strike.
Gao Yang poked its back with a finger.
Furious, the Seven-Colored Spider scuttled across the table and leapt at him.
Thinking of what the First Senior Brother had said about projecting qi, Gao Yang focused his will. As the spider lunged, a faint transparent barrier formed around his body and pushed it away.
The spider flipped onto its back, wriggled for a while, then righted itself and fired several strands of glistening silk from its abdomen.
To Gao Yang's astonishment, the silk corroded the qi around his skin like acid, stinging his flesh. His skin blackened where the threads struck, numbness spreading fast.
If he were still an ordinary man, that single strike would have sent him to the afterlife.
The Seven-Colored Spider's venom was deadly. Within one incense stick's time it would spread through the whole body; within an hour, the victim would dissolve completely.
Gao Yang gathered his inner qi, directing it toward the site of the poison. The toxin gnawed away at his energy, his skin swelling and burning with pain. But soon, the venom weakened and burst out through the wound.
The spider lay exhausted on the table, its legs curling in on themselves.
Amused, Gao Yang picked it up and placed it on his palm. This time, it didn't attack.
He poked its back again.
The spider opened its mandibles and bit his palm.
Gao Yang smiled faintly, then fetched a small bottle. He placed the spider inside, added a few of the bugs Xiao Man had caught, and tucked the bottle into his sleeve.
"Master," Xiao Man asked in surprise, "you're keeping it with you?"
He smiled. "Its silk is potent, and the venom's nothing to take lightly. Could come in handy."
He lacked proper means of attack; another weapon—no matter how small—wasn't a bad thing.
Instead of going straight to the Fifth Senior Sister, Gao Yang sat cross-legged on the bed to digest what he'd learned that morning.
He first circulated qi across his skin. Having the Seven Fiends as a model made it easier—he found that qi could flow even without the meridians.
Then he tried to guide qi inside his body.
He started with his fingers. Pain came at once—his fingertips flushed red as the qi burst through his blood vessels, bruising beneath the skin.
Instead of discouraging him, it only drove him further. He repeated the attempt until all ten fingers turned dark purple before stopping.
Closing his eyes, he pondered deeply.
Qi could move along the skin but not within the body. Was it because of the missing meridians?
Only through the meridians could qi stimulate the muscles and bones, strengthening the body.
So what if he created new meridians himself?
Impossible for others, perhaps—but Gao Yang had the Seven Fiends.
He could carve the Seven Fiends pattern beneath his skin, forming a secondary set of channels. That way, he wouldn't need to draw blood each time to invoke the technique, and the amount of qi he could control would grow greatly.
Before qi condensed into a Golden Core within the Dantian, the amount of energy a cultivator could channel through their meridians determined their explosive power. The Dantian's total qi reserves, in turn, determined how long they could fight.
After Foundation Building, cultivation split into three stages—the First Senior Brother had mentioned them this morning: the Qi Refining Stage, the Sea of Qi Stage, and the Fasting Stage.
Qi Refining was exactly what the name implied—repeatedly cycling qi to expand the Dantian and widen the meridians so they could carry more.
The Sea of Qi Stage came when one's energy condensed into liquid form, stored like a vast ocean. This prepared the body for the forming of the Golden Core.
The Fasting Stage was when the qi within the Dantian solidified, turning from liquid to solid. Once the entire sea of qi became solid, a cultivator could forge the Golden Core.
To condense a Golden Core, one had to practice internal alchemy—using the body as the cauldron, qi and blood as the fire, burning the Dantian until the core formed.
The risk was enormous. One misstep, and both the core and the person would be destroyed. More than thirty percent of cultivators died during the attempt each year.
Some failed from lack of vitality, others because their Sea of Qi was unstable, or their alchemy skills crude, causing the cauldron to explode.
As for what came after the Golden Core, the First Senior Brother hadn't said.
The Seven Fiends technique, however, worked on the same principle—drawing temporary strength by carving extra meridian paths for qi to flow through.
But these channels were superficial. Qi flowing through the skin always lost some potency.
If he could internalize them, though, qi would flow straight from the Dantian without leaking outward, greatly boosting efficiency.
The price was pain—and he could endure that.
He would stimulate the veins around the Seven Fiends markings with qi, flooding them with blood to form the seals instantly.
He couldn't always afford the time to draw blood in battle. This method would be faster, more efficient.
Without hesitation, Gao Yang began guiding qi from his Dantian, trying to etch the Seven Fiends patterns within his body.
But almost immediately, he ran into trouble. The Dantian itself required the patterns too—and doing so risked harming the existing Seven Fiends.
After two painful attempts, the agony in his abdomen forced him to stop. He feared that pushing further might destroy his Dantian altogether.
Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that his idea was sound.
He just needed help.