Hey guys if u like the fanfic and want to read ahead by 5+ Chapters or just want to support take a visit on my patreon.
(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
http://patreon.com/Marin_kitawaga
~~~~~~~~
I entered the workshop. A stone slab slid into place behind me, sealing the entrance, and an enchanted stone on the desk began to glow, ready to automatically send the "all-clear" signal every six hours.
My mother, in this world, was endearingly naive if she thought I would actually interrupt my work for such a trivial task.
I descended to the basement level. The room was mostly empty, save for a magic circle drawn on the floor and a meditation mat a few meters away.
From my aura's internal storage, I retrieved bottles of healing pills, tinctures, and specially prepared meats.
I arranged several alchemically-created candles around the mat and lit them with a small flame conjured from my demonic power.
The tart scent of incense filled the air, a mild stimulant to prepare my body for the coming strain.
I stripped down to a pair of short pants, sat in the lotus position, and swallowed several Yang Restoration Pills. Then, with the power of my soul, I activated the technique.
Life Burning.
The veins on my body bulged, and the air around me shimmered with black ripples as uncontrolled Death Qi leaked from my body.
I focused my consciousness inward, channeling the agony of my physical form into my Black Heart to accelerate its regeneration.
The small percentage of Death Qi that I could control, the portion infused with my own spirituality, I directed toward my Spiritual Root.
With a sickening crack, the semi-spiritual organ located just below my solar plexus shattered, and I spat out a mouthful of blackened blood.
I clenched my teeth, fighting to stay conscious. I pushed the power of my soul further, feeling my tissues and bones break down and regenerate under the influence of the medicines, the restorative power of my Black Heart, and the sheer will of a cultivator who had stepped into the realm of Death and Blood.
The black streams of Death Qi swirled within me, gathering the fragments of my shattered Spiritual Root, compressing them with each rotation.
What is the first thing a cultivator looks for in a new disciple? Bloodline? Wealth? Gender? None of it matters. All that matters is power and potential.
What is the use of a noble lineage if some beggar with a Golden Core cultivation can turn you into a puddle of blood with a wave of his hand?
Potential was determined by one's Spiritual Root, which was divided into nine classes.
A first-class Spiritual Root? Elders would line up to take you as their personal disciple.
A ninth-class? You'd be handed a broom and told to sweep the courtyards.
What is a Spiritual Root? A gift from the Heavens. A legacy of one's ancestors. The foundation of a cultivator's journey.
Only after reaching the Golden Core stage does a practitioner truly understand what it is. To know the truth beforehand can be a hindrance, like a childhood fear that lingers for a lifetime.
But I not only knew, I understood. The Spiritual Root is a gateway. It is the bridge that connects a person to the spiritual world, to the natural qi that surrounds us.
It is the knot that ties together the qi, the body, and the soul. It draws in the ambient qi, and with the help of the soul, converts it into the cultivator's own spiritual qi, filling first the body, and then, after the Spirit Transformation stage, the soul itself.
With a soft whoosh, the spinning black cloud of Death Qi inside him finally squeezed together and became solid.
It took the shape of his old Spiritual Root, a perfect copy made from pure, dark energy. He felt his body screaming, as if it were being torn apart from the inside out.
To control the process, he forced his soul to merge more deeply with his body. It was a dangerous move. Even the strong body of a pureblood demon began to break down under the immense pressure.
Gritting his teeth against the waves of agony, he took full control of the new, dark creation inside him.
Using his deep understanding of the Law of Death, he commanded the energy to change.
He willed it to become a true, living part of him, a bridge between his body and the world's power.
With a final, shaky breath, he let his soul relax and pull back. The thick black fog of Death Qi that had filled the basement rushed toward him, a tidal wave of power seeking its new home.
He braced himself, expecting the terrible pain of his energy pathways being torn apart by the new power. He waited for the agony.
But… there was no pain.
His spiritual pathways, which were like veins for a cultivator's energy, did not tear. He felt no strain at all.
The demonic power already in his body and the new spiritual qi flowed together peacefully.
They moved past each other without any conflict, like two different colored streams of water mixing in a river.
He suddenly realized that half of his careful preparations, the pills and potions to deal with the energy conflict, had been completely useless.
A strange, wild laugh escaped his lips.
"Ha… ha… ha… cough." He choked, spitting a spray of blood onto the stone floor. "Demons…? cough… Ha… ha…" Another fit of laughter shook his broken body, each laugh sending a fresh spike of pain through him.
The whole situation was just so strange, so unbelievable.
The flood of Death Qi and natural energy from the outside world did not stop, even though he was no longer using his Life Burning technique.
A cultivator with a low-grade Spiritual Root had to struggle and fight to pull in even a little bit of power from the world.
But a cultivator with a first-class Spiritual Root had the opposite problem. Power flowed into them so easily that they often had to try to slow it down.
It was no wonder they were called "Children of Heaven and Earth." It was as if the world itself wanted them to become stronger.
He felt a series of soft pops inside him that only he could hear. Layers of spiritual qi wrapped around his new Spiritual Root, and the amount of power flowing through his body grew much larger.
He lifted a pale hand, covered in bleeding sores, and slowly closed it into a fist. A familiar feeling of strength returned, and he smiled through the pain.
"Fifth level, right off the bat," he whispered to himself. "Not bad."
As always, he pushed the pain to the back of his mind and reached for his food and medicine.
~~~~~~~~
Hey guys if u like the fanfic and want to read ahead by 5+ Chapters or just want to support take a visit on my patreon.
(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
http://patreon.com/Marin_kitawaga