The five currents rushed into Pei Jing’s spirit veins. In an ordinary cultivator, that much qi would swell the channels, tear their walls, and leave the muscles around them bruised and twitching.
Ten days in Earth-Stalactite Milk had rebuilt the tissues around Pei Jing’s bones and spirit veins. Qi raced down his Chongmai channel at three hundred paces a second, as smoothly as oil through a polished bronze pipe.
Thummm.
His chest rang like an old bell. The Five-Elemental Chaos Martial Root had grown from the size of a dried walnut to a four-inch sphere. Its five colors blurred together in a ring of lightning.
The current poured into his lower dantian and swept the thirty-six drops into a whirl. More beads formed as the pressure rose.
Forty drops. Fifty. Sixty.
Eighty-one.
They settled at the bottom like beads of liquid jade. The founding sects of Great Yan called eighty-one drops the Nine Extreme Limit. The dantian couldn’t hold another drop without turning the liquid into a solid platform. That was Foundation Establishment.
