Frank cradled the beast egg in both hands, inspecting it closely. Its shell was smooth, cool to the touch, and covered in faint, shimmering veins of silver and gold that pulsed with dormant energy. The egg was heavy, denser than it looked, and emanated a quiet, almost imperceptible hum—like a heartbeat echoing from deep within. Yet no matter how long he held it, there was no sign of movement. No twitch, no warmth, no flicker of life.

  Curious and cautious, Frank gave it a gentle shake. Still nothing. He furrowed his brow and sat cross-legged, steadying his breath. Drawing a thin strand of elemental Qi from his dantian, he extended it toward the egg like a thread of light.

  The reaction was instantaneous.

  The energy recoiled violently, striking back like a serpent defending its nest. A burst of heat surged up his arm, searing through his veins with a pain so sharp it felt like his very blood was aflame. He dropped the egg with a gasp, cradling his wrist as the residual burn pulsed through him.

  "Damn... what the hell was that?" he muttered, shaking out his fingers. Yet even as the pain ebbed, a flicker of fascination burned in his eyes. An object that could react so forcefully to elemental Qi was no ordinary artifact.

  Elemental Beast Egg, he mused. This thing has to be incredibly rare... and dangerous.

  He placed it gently on the nearby shelf, wrapping it in a soft cloth as a precaution, then turned to the scroll he'd received: the Basic Elemental Body Cultivation Technique.

  Unfurling the aged parchment, he was met with lines of text written in the native language of the land—fluid, almost poetic characters that danced across the page. Though the words were simple, their meaning was layered, each phrase steeped in nuance and metaphor. It took nearly two hours of intense concentration to make sense of even the opening passage.

  "This is practically gibberish!" Frank growled, tossing the scroll aside in frustration. "Couldn't they have made it more straightforward? It's supposed to be basic!"

  Still, Frank was persistent. Bit by bit, sentence by sentence, the scroll’s teachings began to take root in his understanding. The core principle was a brutal one: the body must first be brought to the brink of collapse—pushed to its absolute physical limits. Only in this vulnerable, exhausted state could it absorb and be reforged by elemental Qi.

  Once the body was sufficiently taxed, the cultivator would then guide elemental Qi from the dantian into their muscles, bones, and organs, allowing it to saturate and refine their physical form. The pain would be immense, the process dangerous, but the rewards promised unmatched strength.

  “So I need to exhaust myself... and then pour elemental Qi into my body,” Frank repeated aloud, standing up from the bed. “Sounds like a nightmare. Let’s see if I can survive it.”

  He stood, determination replacing frustration. "Let's see how this goes."

  He made his way to the sect's outer training ground—a vast circular track paved with weathered stone, surrounded by statues of ancient warriors and spiritual guardians. It wrapped around the entire training complex and was infamous among disciples. Even seasoned Rank 3 cultivators hesitated before attempting a full lap.

  Frank took a deep breath and began to run.

  At first, the movement felt freeing. Wind whipped past his face, and the rhythmic pounding of his feet was almost meditative. But as minutes passed, fatigue crept in. His breaths grew ragged. His muscles screamed.

  Halfway through the first lap, pain exploded in his calves and thighs. By the time he reached the quarter mark, his vision blurred. And when he finally stumbled across the starting point again, he collapsed onto the cold stone, gasping like a fish out of water.

  "I can't... breathe..."

  Despite his condition, Frank forced himself upright, limbs trembling beneath his weight. Every muscle fiber protested, but he didn’t give in. His breath came in short gasps, chest heaving. Sweat dripped from his chin, soaking the training ground beneath him. He closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and focused inward.

  He visualized his dantian—a swirling core of elemental Qi nestled just beneath his navel. The energy there churned slowly, like a restless storm waiting to be unleashed. Summoning every ounce of his remaining willpower, Frank guided a thread of that energy outward.

  The first step was alignment. He concentrated on the meridian paths branching out from the dantian—thin, thread-like channels that served as the conduits for Qi flow. These invisible veins twisted through his body like an intricate web, connecting organs, muscles, and bones. He followed the primary meridian leading to his right arm.

  The Qi responded sluggishly at first, as if reluctant to leave its familiar nest. Then, with a surge of effort, it burst forward. Frank gasped as the energy shot up the meridian like molten lightning, pushing through resistance and blockages as it surged toward his shoulder.

  The sensation was overwhelming.

  The elemental Qi wasn’t passive—it was alive, volatile, and fierce. As it entered his arm, it ignited the tissues from within. First the muscles: the Qi wrapped around the muscle fibers, infiltrating them, expanding and contracting with microscopic tremors. It didn’t just empower them—it reshaped them. Weak, torn strands were cauterized and rebuilt, infused with elemental density. The muscle tissue thickened subtly, taking on a tauter, more responsive texture.

  Then came the bones. The energy seeped deeper, drilling into his marrow. The pain sharpened, becoming a deep, grinding ache as the elemental force reinforced the bone structure. Hairline cracks from earlier stress healed over and reformed stronger than before. His very skeleton was being reforged.

  Nerves lit up like fireworks, each strand pulsing with energy as the Qi refined his sensory pathways. His awareness expanded. He could feel the air brushing his skin, the heartbeat within his fingertips, the pressure of every toe touching the ground.

  His spine arched involuntarily as the Qi flowed upward into his back. There it struck a bottleneck—an overtaxed node where exhaustion had clogged his channels. The elemental Qi surged against it, pounding like waves against a dam. With a cry of pain, Frank forced his will into it, and the blockage shattered.

  Qi flooded through his shoulders and chest, pouring into his lungs and heart, fortifying them with each breath and beat. His lungs expanded more fully, oxygen rushing in as though he’d never truly breathed before. His heart thudded with renewed strength, pumping blood enriched by elemental force to every corner of his being.

  And then... silence. Stillness.

  The Qi had spread through every limb, saturating his entire body. A sense of equilibrium settled over him. The raw elemental chaos had been absorbed, transformed, integrated. His body, though battered, stood stronger than before—denser, tougher, more alive.

  Frank opened his eyes slowly. His vision felt sharper, more vivid. The aches were still there, but beneath them was something new—resilience.

  This was only the first step of many, but he had taken it. And he had survived.

  He fell back, drenched in sweat. The sun had climbed high above, casting golden rays over the courtyard.

  "Status," he whispered.

  "Looks like only my Qi reserves changed..." Frank sat up slowly, wiping sweat from his brow.

  Back inside his quarters, Frank retrieved another scroll—this one was titled the 9 Continuous Fist Technique. Unfurling it carefully, he was greeted by an organized set of illustrations and annotated instructions. Compared to the esoteric complexity of the body cultivation manual, this felt refreshingly clear. Each stance was accompanied by a diagram showing posture, weight distribution, and the internal flow of body Qi, which coursed through the body's meridians like a tidal rhythm.

  This wasn’t a simple martial form. It was a carefully crafted battle technique designed for body cultivators. Each of the nine strikes followed a progressive cycle, drawing body Qi through specific channels and pressure points. With every punch, more Qi would be mobilized, intensifying the force behind each subsequent strike. By the time the ninth punch landed, the accumulated power could rival that of techniques several levels above the user’s rank.

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  Frank studied the flow diagrams intently, tracing the path of Qi from the dantian through his spine, branching out to the arms and fists. He noted the key transition points: the gate at the base of the spine, the focus node in the solar plexus, and the explosive burst node near the wrist. He committed them all to memory.

  Rising to his feet, he positioned himself in the center of his training room. He adopted a wide stance, grounding his feet firmly on the stone floor. His knees bent slightly, spine aligned, fists clenched tightly at his sides. Inhaling deeply, he began.

  First punch—forward thrust. He drove his right fist out while exhaling sharply, channeling body Qi through the dominant arm. A surge of heat followed the motion, trailing the Qi from his core to his knuckles. The air rippled.

  Second punch—pivot and strike. He shifted his weight, swinging his hips and driving the left fist forward. The motion wasn’t just physical; the Qi rotated along with his center of gravity, following a spiral path to maximize force.

  Third punch—rising arc. He rotated his shoulder upward, punching with a rising hook that forced Qi to push against gravity. His muscles trembled as they strained to follow the internal current.

  By the fourth punch, he was sweating profusely. Every movement demanded not only precision but control over his Qi flow. Any misstep, any leak in the circulation, would dissipate power.

  Fifth. Sixth. Seventh—each more demanding than the last. His breathing became ragged, his shirt clung to him like a second skin. His arms felt as if they were being pulled by weights. Qi moved sluggishly now, slow to respond, as if his meridians were protesting the overuse.

  By the eighth strike, the Qi had to be forced through resistance points, creating a burning sensation in his forearms and shoulders. He grit his teeth and pushed through, knowing the last strike required the most intense release.

  Ninth punch. The final motion.

  He twisted, braced, and threw the full weight of his body into the strike. Qi surged through his chest, down his spine, into his legs, and rebounded up into his arm—one final pulse, condensed and furious. The impact created a sonic crack in the air.

  Then the world spun.

  Frank’s vision blurred. His knees buckled. His Qi reserves, once vibrant and pulsing, now felt like dried rivers. The pain of exhaustion settled into his bones. Unable to remain standing, he collapsed to the ground.

  His consciousness faded before his body even hit the floor.

  Blackout. Not from injury—but from utter depletion. The 9 Continuous Fist had taken everything he had to offer.

  He awoke hours later, body sore and mind foggy. The cold stone beneath him offered no comfort.

  "Gotta... move."

  Stumbling to his bed, he grabbed three nourishment pills and popped them into his mouth without thinking.

  Suddenly a system window appeared in front of his eyes.

  He blinked at the notification.

  "Great. Now the system's giving me missions... fine. Challenge accepted."

  For the next two and a half days, Frank subjected himself to a grueling and relentless routine, pushing his mind and body to the absolute edge of endurance. His training became a punishing cycle—mechanical, precise, and unforgiving.

  Absorb elemental Qi.

  At dawn, he'd sit cross-legged on the meditation mat, inhaling deeply as he activated the Basic Elemental Qi Absorption Technique. The ambient energy in the air was thin this far from the sect’s core, so he had to work harder, drawing each wisp of Qi into his body like siphoning water from a dry stream. The elemental Qi entered through his pores, trickled into his meridians, and was slowly refined and funneled into his dantian.

  He visualized it like mist coalescing into a golden reservoir in his abdomen. Each inhale brought a flicker of warmth. Each exhale dispersed the impurities.

  Exhaust the body.

  Once his dantian was filled—enough to feel heavy but not yet overflowing—he’d rise and bolt straight into physical training. He dashed around the sect’s training ground, a massive circular path that even experienced rank 3 cultivators found taxing. His feet pounded against the stone tiles, sweat cascading down his brow, lungs burning with the dry morning air.

  By the second lap, his legs trembled. By the third, every breath came with a wheeze, and his vision began to blur at the edges. But he wouldn’t stop—not until his muscles ached and his steps faltered.

  Infuse elemental Qi into every fiber.

  Collapsed on the ground, panting, he'd begin the true body cultivation.

  Teeth clenched, he guided elemental Qi out of his dantian and into his exhausted body. It wasn't a gentle infusion—it was invasive, surgical. He visualized the Qi traveling through his meridians like molten steel through hollow pipes. It surged into his muscles, saturating the overworked fibers and forcibly breaking them down further to rebuild stronger.

  He could feel the change. Tiny ruptures forming. Microfractures in bone knitting back tougher. Tendons stretching and reinforcing with each cycle of elemental stimulation. The pain was white-hot, like dozens of tiny needles threading through his flesh—but with it came an undercurrent of progress, of growth.

  Drill the fist technique until body Qi dropped.

  With what little strength remained, Frank would rise and practice the 9 Continuous Fist Technique. His movements, once stiff and awkward, began to gain fluidity. Each strike was cleaner, tighter. The body Qi within him responded more readily now, rushing into his limbs as he cycled through each strike.

  First punch—snap. Second punch—pivot and twist. By the fifth, his shirt would be drenched. By the seventh, he tasted blood. By the ninth, his body trembled, muscles spasming from exhaustion.

  The moment his body Qi dipped near the bottom, he would collapse. Sometimes he passed out for minutes. Other times, he barely had the strength to crawl back to his bed and slip into an uneasy rest.

  Then the next cycle would begin.

  The sect was quiet. Most disciples were still away, recovering from the recent war. No one came to disturb him. He liked it that way.

  He was an outsider—an introvert from a minor clan. His low elemental affinity had nearly disqualified him from entry. Only his clan's wealth and fading prestige had earned him a place. His brothers had chosen the military. Frank had chosen to cultivate to immortality.

  Eventually, Frank felt it—the tipping point.

  A subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his inner world signaled the moment of truth: his body Qi had reached its threshold. Like water pressing against the thinnest edge of a dam, it had nowhere else to go. One more push, one final exertion, and the barrier between Rank 1 and Rank 2 would shatter.

  Wiping the sweat from his brow, he took a long breath and steadied himself. His legs felt like they were made of stone, and his joints ached with the stiffness of overtraining, but his mind was clear—focused. He knew exactly what he needed.

  He made his way through the sect’s winding stone paths, weaving silently between returning disciples as he passed through the outer market. The faint bustle had returned now that the war had ended. Merchants were reopening their stalls, students carried weapon scrolls and herbs, and banners fluttered in the mountain wind once more. But Frank paid them no mind. He kept his hood up and his gaze low, just another tired face in a crowd eager to forget the war.

  By the time he reached his quarters, the sun had dipped low in the sky, casting long amber shadows across the floor.

  In the quiet of his room, he retrieved a small elemental stone, its translucent surface faintly glowing with inner light. He sat cross-legged on the bed, placing the stone on his lap, and steadied his breathing. This wasn’t something to be rushed.

  Advancement wasn't just brute force.

  It was a convergence of discipline, mental clarity, and control. The body needed to surrender. The dantian needed to evolve. And the soul had to accept change.

  He guided his awareness inward, entering a meditative trance. From the still pool of his dantian, he began to draw elemental Qi—slowly, steadily. Like liquid gold, the energy moved upward through his meridians before circling back and sinking into the dantian again.

  Then he began to compress.

  He gathered more elemental Qi. Then more. And more.

  His dantian expanded—stretching slightly, its inner walls glowing faintly as pressure built inside it. Still, he continued. The Qi swirled like a vortex, faster and tighter, until the pressure became unbearable. Every nerve in his abdomen screamed as the energy pressed against the very structure of his core.

  And still—he pushed harder.

  It was like trying to fold fire into itself. The Qi fought back, writhing and resisting, but he clenched his jaw and concentrated, weaving it tighter with every breath. His body trembled, sweat pouring from his brow. His bones creaked under the internal pressure. It felt like his very soul was being wrung out.

  Then—

  Crack.

  A shockwave burst outward from within. His dantian cracked—not in destruction, but in transformation. The shell of its old form splintered like a cocoon, and in its place, a brighter, deeper core emerged.

  Qi surged in.

  Not just flowed—roared.

  It flooded into the newly refined dantian, spinning faster than ever, more refined, more potent. The air around Frank shimmered. His skin glowed faintly as threads of elemental Qi circulated through his meridians, reinforcing every cell. It wasn’t just his dantian that evolved—his entire body adjusted to match it.

  His muscles grew denser, his senses sharper. His heartbeat steadied to a thunderous rhythm, like a war drum inside his chest. Every breath felt cleaner, deeper, more empowering. It was as though his very perception had widened—sounds were clearer, light more vivid, the world around him suddenly fuller.

  Frank opened his eyes slowly, exhaling a long breath.

  He had broken through.

  The world seemed brighter. Sounds were clearer. He felt... alive.

  "The leap from Rank 1 to 2... it's insane," he whispered. "Everything's stronger. Faster. Sharper."

  He moved to the bath, needing to relax. As he sank into the warm water, he opened the system again.

  He grinned. "Finally. Every decent protagonist gets Inspect."

  He looked at the water and tested it.

  "Inspect."

  He leaned back, eyes closing.