A red bead hung at the mouth of the lead gourd. It was no bigger than a dried hawthorn berry. The Earth-Vein Magma Fire had come from deep below the western rift. Even in this hot cave, Pei Jing could feel the heat coming off it.
He tipped the gourd. The bead touched his tongue, and a puff of steam escaped between his lips. He swallowed before the heat could spread. The fire went down like a drop of hot lead.
His Five-Viscera Turtle Breathing held the organs steady while he drew the fire through his central spirit channel. The small meal he had eaten was already helping him bear the heat. Then the bead sank into the liquid silver of his Foundation.
The silver boiled.
Pei Jing clenched his teeth. Red lines stood out under the skin of his belly. The light from them spilled onto the stone between his crossed legs. The fire wanted to rise. He kept it in the Dantian and let the heat do the work he had brought it here to do.
Most cultivators let their liquid qi gather and cool. Whatever had been in the liquid stayed in the solid core. If a pocket of weak qi was left inside, a hard blow could open it like a crack in a blade. Pei Jing meant to raise the heat first and clear the waste, the way he had at the forge.
