Six months.
Six months of nightly meditation, of searching inward, of feeling that tantalizing warmth in my chest. Six months of progress that felt agonizingly slow, like watching paint dry or grass grow. I could sense my mana core clearly now. Could feel the lazy swirl of energy within it. Could even track the minuscule increases as it passively absorbed ambient mana.
But I couldn't control it. Couldn't actively pull more in. Couldn't accelerate the process.
Every night I sat in meditation, reaching out with my will, trying to draw mana from the air, from my surroundings, from wherever it existed. And every night, nothing happened. The mana in my core continued its slow, passive accumulation, utterly ignoring my desperate attempts to speed things up.
I was missing something. Some fundamental piece of the puzzle that all my memories of cultivation novels and isekai manga hadn't provided.
Tonight was no different. I sat cross-legged in the darkness of my room, three years old now and with slightly better control over my toddler body. My breathing was steady, my mind focused inward on that small sphere of warmth in my chest.
The core had grown over the past six months. Not by much, maybe ten percent larger than when I'd first sensed it. But it was progress. Proof that the passive absorption was real, that my theory had been correct.
But passive wasn't enough. At this rate, I'd still be waiting four or five more years for awakening. Better than the original seven, but still far too long.
I reached out again with my will, trying to pull mana inward. Trying to force it to flow faster, to fill my core more quickly.
Nothing.
Frustration bubbled up, hot and bitter. This should work. Every story I'd ever read said you could cultivate, could actively absorb energy. Why wasn't it working here?
Unless...
A thought struck me, so obvious I wanted to laugh at myself for not seeing it sooner.
In every cultivation novel, they didn't just absorb energy randomly. They circulated it. Moved it through their bodies in specific patterns. Created pathways, meridians, channels through which the energy could flow.
I'd been treating my mana core like a cup, trying to pour water into it from the outside. But what if it was more like a well? What if I needed to create channels first, pathways for the mana to flow through, and only then would external mana naturally rush in to fill the space created?
The cultivation novels called it different things. Meridians. Channels. Energy pathways. But the principle was always the same: you had to circulate internal energy through your body to create routes, and as you did, external energy would naturally flow in to replace what you'd moved.
It wasn't about pulling mana in. It was about creating circulation, and letting the natural flow of ambient mana do the rest.
My heart was racing now, excitement cutting through the frustration. This could be it. This could be the missing piece.
I turned my focus back to my core, but this time with a different intention. Not trying to pull mana in, but trying to move what was already there.
The mana swirled lazily in its small space. I reached out with my will, not to grab it but to guide it. To nudge it in a specific direction.
At first, nothing happened. The mana continued its aimless drift, ignoring my attempts to direct it.
But I persisted. Gentle pressure, like trying to herd smoke. Push it here, guide it there. Create a current instead of random motion.
Slowly, painfully slowly, the mana began to respond. The swirl became more directed, more purposeful. A gentle spiral forming in the chaos.
And then I tried to push it outward, beyond the confines of the core itself.
Pain.
Not physical pain, but something worse. A burning sensation that existed somewhere between body and mind. The mana resisted violently, like trying to force water through a wall of solid stone. The pathways I was trying to create didn't exist yet, and forcing energy through virgin territory hurt in ways I didn't have words for.
I gritted my teeth, my three-year-old body trembling with effort. Just a little. Just push a tiny amount of mana beyond the core, into the surrounding... whatever this was. Spiritual body? Energy network? I didn't know the right terms, but I knew what I had to do.
The mana finally moved, a tiny wisp of it extending beyond the core like a tendril of smoke. It burned as it went, carving a path through resistance that felt like pushing through tar and fire simultaneously.
But then...
Something rushed in.
External mana, ambient energy from the air or the world or wherever it came from, flowed into my core to replace what I'd moved out. Not much, barely a trickle, but it was there. It was real. It was working.
The circulation completed as the external mana entered and the internal mana returned, slightly changed, slightly refined by its journey through my body.
I'd done it. I'd actually done it.
The pathway I'd created was tiny, barely more than a thread. And it hurt like nothing I'd ever experienced. But it was there, and mana was flowing through it.
I opened my eyes, gasping for breath like I'd run a marathon. Sweat drenched my nightshirt despite the cool air. My body ached in ways that didn't make physical sense.
But I was smiling.
I'd cracked the code. Finally, truly cracked it.
The passive absorption would continue, yes. But now I could actively circulate mana, create pathways, expand my capacity. It would be slow at first, painful and difficult. But it would get easier. The pathways would widen and strengthen with use. The circulation would become smoother, more natural.
This was how you cultivated. This was how you actively developed your mana core before awakening.
And I was the only one doing it.
I laid back on my bed, exhaustion pulling at me. My body needed rest after that exertion. But my mind was racing with possibilities, with plans, with the sheer excitement of finally making real progress.
Tomorrow, I would do it again. And again. And again. Every night, circulating mana, creating pathways, expanding my capacity bit by bit.
The protagonist's journey was truly underway now.