Long Aotian lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Despite everything he'd experienced—the dragons, the voice, the overwhelming pressure—part of him still felt like he was trapped in a dream. The encounter had been too surreal, too impossible to accept at face value.
But the knowledge burning in his mind was real. He could feel it there, structured and complete, waiting to be used.
Long Aotian pushed those doubts to the back of his mind and focused inward, turning his attention to the cultivation technique he'd been given.
The Nine Dragon Tyrant Body Art.
As he examined it, surprise flickered across his face. This wasn't like the techniques practiced by the Xiao clan or any other sect he'd heard of. Most cultivation methods focused entirely on gathering spiritual energy into the dantian, refining it, and using it to advance through the realms. Some specialized techniques cultivated the body, turning flesh and bone into weapons through rigorous training and special elixirs.
This technique did both.
Long Aotian's breathing quickened as he absorbed the information. The Nine Dragon Tyrant Body Art had two distinct paths—energy cultivation and body cultivation—and they complemented each other in ways that seemed almost impossible. The energy path remained closed to him for now. Without a functioning dantian, he couldn't gather or store spiritual energy the way normal cultivators did.
However, the body path was different.
According to the technique, cultivating the body aspect to a certain stage could trigger what the mnemonics called a "rebirth." During this rebirth, the body would undergo a fundamental transformation. Old injuries would heal. Damaged meridians would repair themselves. And most importantly—a shattered dantian could be restored.
Long Aotian sat up slowly, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. Hope surged in his chest, hot and almost painful. Three years. Three years of being told his cultivation path was over, that he would never advance beyond what he'd achieved before the ambush. And now this technique was offering him a way back.
He forced himself to breathe steadily and focused deeper on the body cultivation aspect.
Another surprise waited for him.
Dragon Blood Battle Body.
The name appeared in his mind's eye like characters written in crimson ink. Long Aotian's brow furrowed as he absorbed the details of this particular technique. It was unlike anything he'd encountered in either the Pill God's memories or his own experience.
The Dragon Blood Battle Body required him to absorb yin energy from the world, then burn it using his innate yang energy. The fusion of these opposing forces would create a special type of blood energy—something the technique called Dragon Blood Essence. This essence would infuse into his bones, muscles, and tendons, transforming them from the inside out.
Long Aotian's mind raced. Yin energy. Where would he find a source of yin energy strong enough to begin cultivation? Most natural treasures containing concentrated yin were rare and expensive. Yin-attribute spirit stones cost ten times more than regular ones. Herbs like Moonshade Lotus and Frost Lily grew only in specific locations and—
Wait.
Long Aotian's thoughts stopped abruptly. The Pill God's memories stirred, bringing forward knowledge he hadn't consciously accessed until now. He didn't need to search for treasures. The most natural and abundant source of yin energy in the world was readily available to anyone who knew how to absorb it.
Moonlight.
Long Aotian glanced toward the window. Through the small opening, he could see that darkness still covered the sky. The moon hung full and bright, its pale light spilling into the room in silver streams.
His body moved before conscious thought caught up. Long Aotian swung his legs off the bed and stood, testing his weight. His muscles ached and his bones felt fragile, but he could move. That would have to be enough.
He crept toward the door, moving as quietly as possible. His mother's room was just down the hall, and the last thing he needed was to wake her and face another round of worried questions. The wooden floor creaked softly under his feet, making him wince, but no sounds came from the other room.
Long Aotian slipped outside.
The courtyard was small and simple, bordered by a low stone wall and containing nothing but packed earth and a single withered tree. Moonlight flooded the space, turning everything silver-white. The air was cool and carried the scent of night-blooming flowers from somewhere beyond the walls.
Long Aotian walked to the center of the courtyard and lowered himself into a cross-legged position. The ground was cold against his legs, but he ignored the discomfort. His breathing slowed as he closed his eyes and turned his focus inward.
The Dragon Blood Battle Body's circulation pathways unfolded in his mind like a map. Complex patterns that wound through his meridians, looping back on themselves in ways that seemed impossible at first glance. Long Aotian memorized each twist and turn, committing them to memory.
Then he began.
He extended his awareness outward, feeling for the yin energy in the moonlight. At first, there was nothing. Just the cool night air and the distant sounds of the clan compound settling into sleep. Long Aotian pushed harder, following the instructions burned into his mind by the technique.
There.
A sensation like cold silk brushed against his skin. Yin energy, pure and abundant, radiating from the moon above. Long Aotian's breathing technique shifted, following the patterns prescribed by the Dragon Blood Battle Body. With each inhale, he drew that cold energy into his body.
The effect was immediate.
Long Aotian's meridians seized up as if doused in ice water. His entire body shivered violently, teeth chattering despite his efforts to remain still. The yin energy flooded through his channels, freezing everything it touched. For a terrifying moment, he thought he'd made a mistake—that this technique would kill him before he could even begin proper cultivation.
Then he remembered the second step.
Long Aotian reached deep inside himself, searching for the small amount of energy his body had retained from his previous cultivation. It wasn't much. Just wisps of what had once been a roaring flame. But it was yang in nature—warm, active, alive.
He seized that energy and forced it to ignite.
Heat exploded through his meridians, crashing headlong into the yin energy flowing through them. The two opposing forces collided, and Long Aotian felt something fundamental shift inside his body. The yin didn't dissipate. Instead, it transformed, fusing with the yang to create something new.
Dragon Blood Essence.
The newly formed energy followed the circulation pathways of the Dragon Blood Battle Body, flowing through his meridians in the precise pattern prescribed by the technique. Long Aotian guided it carefully, directing it into his bones first, then his tendons, then the deeper layers of muscle.
Pain struck like a hammer blow.
Long Aotian's eyes snapped open, but he forced himself to remain seated. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ground together. Blood-red veins erupted across his skin, spreading from his chest outward like cracks in porcelain. They glowed faintly in the moonlight, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
The Dragon Blood Essence was working. He could feel it burrowing into his bones, breaking them down at the cellular level and rebuilding them stronger. His tendons stretched and contracted as the energy infused them, making them more flexible and resilient. Every nerve in his body screamed in protest.
Long Aotian kept the circulation going. Sweat poured down his face and soaked through his sleeping robes. His hands, resting on his knees, trembled uncontrollably. The blood-red veins spread further, crawling up his neck and down his arms like living things.
More yin energy. He needed more to complete the cycle.
Long Aotian inhaled deeply, drawing in another wave of moonlight. The cold hit him again, but this time he was ready for it. He burned it immediately, transforming it into Dragon Blood Essence and feeding it into the circulation. The pain intensified. His vision blurred, and spots danced at the edges of his sight.
He didn't stop.
Around and around the energy flowed, following the pathways carved into his memory by the technique. Each complete circulation left him stronger, but the cost was almost unbearable. Long Aotian's spine felt like it was being crushed and reformed. His bones ached with a deep, throbbing pain that radiated outward.
Time became meaningless. Long Aotian existed only in the cycle of absorption, transformation, and circulation. Yin to yang. Yang to Dragon Blood Essence. Dragon Blood Essence through the pathways. Over and over without pause.
His cultivation wasn't increasing in the traditional sense—he still had no dantian to store energy, still had no way to advance through the Body Refinement Realm's ranks. However, something else was happening. Something more fundamental. He could feel his body changing, becoming denser, stronger, more resilient with each completed circulation.
Hours passed. The moon tracked slowly across the sky, gradually descending toward the horizon. Long Aotian maintained the cultivation without break, his consciousness narrowed to a single point of focus.
Finally, as the first hints of dawn began to lighten the eastern sky, Long Aotian felt his body reach a limit. Not the limit of the technique, but the limit of what his current physique could endure. The Dragon Blood Battle Body's instructions were clear on this point—pushing too hard too fast would damage his foundation and cripple his future progress.
Long Aotian allowed the circulation to slow. The Dragon Blood Essence completed one final cycle before settling into his bones and tendons, absorbed fully into his body. The blood-red veins faded gradually, sinking back beneath his skin until no trace of them remained.
He opened his eyes.
The world seemed sharper somehow. Colors more vivid. His hearing more acute. Long Aotian flexed his fingers experimentally and felt strength there that hadn't existed before. He felt like he could punch a hole in the sky, knowing this was an illusion from his strength increasing after a long time of regression and stagnation
Then he noticed the smell.
Long Aotian looked down at himself and grimaced. Black gunk covered his skin, thick and viscous like tar. It clung to his sleeping robes and stank worse than a week-old corpse. He raised one hand and watched as the substance dripped from his fingers in dark globules.
Instead of panic or disgust, a smile spread across Long Aotian's face. He would have laughed out loud if he wasn't terrified of waking his mother and having to explain why he was sitting in the courtyard covered in foul-smelling sludge.
The Pill God's memories provided the explanation immediately. These were impurities—toxins, dead cells, and corrupted energy that had accumulated in his body over fourteen years of life. Normal cultivation couldn't expel them. Only special treasures or high-grade pills could force impurities out, and even then, it usually required reaching a significant cultivation realm first.
The Dragon Blood Battle Body had expelled them after a single night of cultivation.