Old manuals compared the opening of a dantian to a lotus unfolding. Pei Jing could feel his own held in place by the bones and tissue of his lower belly. The next change would stretch everything around it.
A small foundation could support one main kind of qi. One zhang was enough for most cultivators. Three was unusual. Five was the sort of figure elders spoke of with pride.
His Five-Elemental Chaos Root needed room for five currents. Fire could boil away water. Water could smother fire. If all five met without room to move, they could undo the work inside his body.
Green wood qi gathered in the east, where it could feed his liver. Scarlet fire went south. White metal qi took the west, and black water settled in the north. Yellow earth qi spread across a ten-foot circle at the center, holding the other currents in order. He needed to open a basin nine zhang wide, about ninety feet from edge to edge. Once the basin settled, the foundation platform could harden across it. His Dantian’s inner space would need about ten times the volume it had held before. The little anchor in his belly could hold that space without growing to the size of the platform.
