The air within the Vishnu Stambha was thick with prana, humming with a divine resonance that stirred Virat Singh's newly restored nadi. The first tier of the temple, bathed in a soft golden glow, felt like a sanctum carved from the heart of the cosmos. The bronze **kamandalu**, encircled by a coiled naga, stood as the sole artifact in the vast chamber, its presence radiating an ancient, unspoken promise. Virat's heart pounded—not from fear, but from the weight of destiny unfolding before him.
Moments ago, he had pressed his hand against the stone pillar's handprint, and a voice had thundered in his mind: *"Inheritor of the Divya Mani, destined to reign over the cosmos. From today, forge your fate through effort. Bow to none."* Those words had ignited a fire in his soul, a resolve to rise above the betrayal of the Chandra Vihar Ashram, to crush Rohan Dev, the Maha Guru, and even the Acharya who had cast him out. Now, standing before the kamandalu, he sensed the next step of his path.
As he lifted the kamandalu's lid, three glowing orbs floated within, each encased in a shimmering barrier. The red orb pulsed with the fiery essence of alchemy, the blue orb shimmered with the intricate patterns of sacred yantras, and the purple orb crackled with the destructive force of divine astras. But beyond these, a smaller orb of pure, radiant light hovered, its purpose veiled in mystery.
Virat hesitated, his fingers trembling as they reached for the small orb. The moment he touched it, a torrent of knowledge surged into his mind, as if the heavens themselves had opened to pour their secrets into him.
"Aah!" he gasped, clutching his head as pain seared through him. The flood of information was overwhelming, like a river breaking its banks. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he saw flashes of cosmic mandalas, ancient rishis chanting mantras, and a radiant figure seated upon a lotus, wielding the power of creation itself. Then, as swiftly as it began, the pain subsided, leaving behind a crystalline clarity.
In his mind, a name emerged: **Nava Shakti Samgraha Vidya**—the Ninefold Prana Circulation Technique.
Virat's breath caught. In Bharatavarsha, the sacred arts were the path to power, and cultivation techniques were the foundation of that journey. These techniques, through which disciples harnessed the prana of heaven and earth, were divided into four ranks: **Chakra** (basic), **Vajra** (resilient), **Divya** (divine), and **Brahma** (cosmic). Each rank was further split into three grades: low, middle, and high. The technique now etched in his mind bore no rank, no grade—only a promise of boundless potential.
The Nava Shakti Samgraha Vidya was a cultivation method of nine layers, each unlocking a deeper connection to the primal forces of the universe. Upon mastering the first layer, the cultivator could manifest a **Shakti Roopa**—a divine embodiment of prana—in their dantian, granting unique abilities tied to that form. With each subsequent layer, a new Shakti Roopa could be formed, stacking powers and amplifying strength. The nature of the Shakti Roopa depended on the cultivator's destiny and spirit—it could be a radiant deva, a fierce asura, or even a mythical beast like Garuda or Nandi.
What set this technique apart was its lack of bottlenecks. No matter the injury, no matter the stagnation, the Nava Shakti Samgraha Vidya promised a path forward, as if the universe itself would bend to the cultivator's will. Virat's heart raced. Could this be a **Brahma-rank** technique, whispered of in legends? Or something beyond even that—a technique of the gods?
Suppressing his excitement, Virat recalled the humiliation he'd endured. The Chandra Vihar Ashram, where he'd once been a prodigy under Guru Anand, had discarded him like ash. Rohan Dev's brutal attack in the Kali Van, backed by the Maha Guru's malice, had shattered his nadi and nearly his spirit. Yet here he stood, alive, his nadi not only restored but stronger, thanks to the Divya Mani. This technique was his key to vengeance—and to transcending the petty hierarchies of ashrams and gurus.
He sat cross-legged on the temple's cool stone floor, the dense prana of the Vishnu Stambha swirling around him. The voice had revealed that time here flowed differently: three days inside equaled one outside. With this, he could cultivate at a pace unimaginable in the outer world. Closing his eyes, he began to form the seals described in the Nava Shakti Samgraha Vidya, his fingers tracing patterns that echoed the cosmic mandala carved on the Divya Mani.
As he chanted the technique's opening mantra—"**Om Namo Shakti Samgrahaya**"—the prana in the chamber stirred, drawn to him like rivers to the sea. His restored nadi, now wider and more resilient, channeled the energy effortlessly. It flowed through his meridians, pooling in his dantian, where a faint glow began to form.
Hours passed, or perhaps days—time felt fluid in the Vishnu Stambha. The prana in his dantian condensed, growing denser, until it shimmered like a star. Then, with a soundless roar, it shattered, releasing a surge of energy that raced back through his meridians. His body trembled as his channels expanded, his bones strengthened, and his marrow purified. The impurities of his past—physical and spiritual—oozed from his pores as dark sludge, leaving him lighter, purer.
When he opened his eyes, he felt a power he'd never known. Probing with his prana, he sensed his cultivation had leaped from the **Prana Bindu Stage** to the **Third Stage of Deha Siddhi**. In a single session, he had crossed a chasm that would take outer disciples months, even years, to traverse.
"Hah!" Virat exhaled, clenching his fist. He struck the air, and a gust of prana erupted, shaking the chamber. "This power… I could challenge even the Sixth Stage of Deha Siddhi!"
But he wasn't done. The Nava Shakti Samgraha Vidya promised more. To truly harness its potential, he needed to form his first Shakti Roopa. Sitting again, he focused inward, guiding the prana in his dantian according to the technique's instructions. The glow in his core pulsed, taking shape. He felt a presence—ancient, powerful, yet tied to his own spirit.
As the form solidified, a vision flashed in his mind: a radiant figure wreathed in flames, wielding a trident, its eyes blazing with unyielding resolve. Was this… **Agni Rudra**, the fiery aspect of Lord Shiva? Or something unique, born of his own destiny? Whatever it was, its power coursed through him, amplifying his prana and sharpening his senses.
Virat stood, his body thrumming with energy. The Shakti Roopa in his dantian granted him not just strength but an ability—he sensed it instinctively. Focusing, he extended his hand, and a tongue of flame flickered at his fingertips, hot enough to melt stone. His lips curved into a fierce smile. With this, he could burn through any obstacle.
"Rohan Dev," he whispered, his voice low but resolute. "Maha Guru, Acharya, Chandra Vihar Ashram—your days of lording over me are numbered. I, Virat Singh, will return, and when I do, I'll tear down your pride with my own hands."
He turned to the kamandalu, where the three glowing orbs still awaited. The alchemical wisdom of the **Adi Rasayana Deva**, the yantra mastery of the **Adi Yantra Deva**, and the astra-crafting art of the **Adi Astra Deva**—each held immense power. But for now, he needed to master the Nava Shakti Samgraha Vidya and solidify his foundation. The Vishnu Stambha was his sanctuary, and the Divya Mani his guide.
As he prepared to cultivate further, a question lingered: what was the Divya Mani, truly? A sacred treasure, yes, but its origins, its purpose—those remained shrouded. And this realm, with its emerald paths and cosmic beauty—was it a fragment of the heavens, or something older, tied to the rishis and devas of legend?
For now, answers could wait. Strength was his priority. With the Nava Shakti Samgraha Vidya, the Vishnu Stambha, and the Divya Mani, Virat Singh would forge a path to the pinnacle of the sacred arts. No guru, no ashram, no Deva would stand in his way.
The first tier of the Vishnu Stambha glowed softly, as if acknowledging his resolve. Outside, in the Kali Van, the world awaited his return. But here, in this sacred space, Virat Singh began his ascent to godhood.