From Heaven and Earth Qi to Asura

A heavy silence blanketed the land as Xiao Ning stepped into the valley.

The air reeked of rusted iron and rot, thick and cloying, as if the very earth remembered the slaughter that had taken place here. Mists clung low to the jagged terrain, and the sunlight, filtered through crimson haze, lent the rocks a sickly hue—like dried blood staining ancient bones.

Not a sound stirred.

Only the wind, thin and keening, whispered between the ravines like a mourner left behind.

Xiao Ning scanned the valley once, then walked to its heart and seated himself cross-legged upon a shattered stone platform. This was the place where the Yin Qi—the cold, deathly essence—was most dense. It coiled around him like an invisible fog, biting into his skin.

He inhaled deeply.

The energy surged into his lungs like needles, sharp and unrelenting but he did not flinch, this pain is nothing to him.

"Let's begin," he murmured.

His fingers formed a seal, and he activated the Paradox Meridians.

At once, the spiritual energy in his body began to dissipate, draining away as if poured from a broken jar. The warm flow of cultivation vanished, leaving behind an eerie emptiness. In that moment, Xiao Ning was no longer a cultivator—just an ordinary mortal, emptied of power.

But that emptiness was exactly what he needed.

To perceive asura qi—an energy born of wrath, despair, and slaughter—one had to return to a state of true beginning. Most cultivators could not even sense it, let alone harness it. To touch such a force, Xiao Ning would need to carve a forbidden rune directly into his dantian.

The Asura Rune.

He closed his eyes. The Yin Qi swirled around him, drawn into his meridians. It was wild, unruly, and cold as a winter storm. As he guided it inward, it resisted fiercely, thrashing against his will like a caged beast.

This was the first trial.

Xiao Ning's breathing slowed, and his consciousness sank inward—into the very core of his being.

There, nestled below the navel and encased by a veil of spiritual membranes, lay the dantian—the sacred sea of energy upon which all cultivation was built. It was no mere vessel, but the origin of all inner transformation. For cultivators, the dantian was both foundation and sanctuary. To harm it was to cripple one's future. To shatter it was to fall, permanently, from the path of cultivation.

And now, Xiao Ning would carve a rune into it.

Slowly—stroke by excruciating stroke—he began shaping the Asura Rune within this sacred space. It was no ordinary inscription, but a cruel and alien pattern meant to anchor a force that rejected balance and defied harmony.

The rune etched itself not with yin qi—icy, corrosive, and wild. Like a freezing blade slicing through flesh, it carved into the walls of his dantian with each guided breath. The protective membranes trembled under the intrusion, and the spiritual sea roiled violently.

The pain was indescribable.

Even seasoned Divine Transformation cultivators would hesitate to risk their dantian so directly. A single misalignment, a single lapse in control, and the meridian system could collapse from within, leaving the cultivator a cripple—unable to store energy, to condense essence, or to even maintain life beyond a few mortal years.

Yet Xiao Ning's gaze remained calm and unwavering, as though this ordeal were but a routine task he had long since grown accustomed to.

He forced the Yin Qi along preordained paths, drawing the complex, intertwining strokes of the rune with precision. The energy resisted, snarling like a beast, but he subdued it inch by inch.

As the first curves of the rune settled into the spiritual matrix, Xiao Ning's dantian shuddered—both in pain and in transformation.

Days passed in silence.

Only when the final stroke of the rune burned itself into his dantian did he open his eyes. A faint crimson light flickered within him.

And then it came.

A surge of energy flooded his body, darker and more primal than anything he had known.

This was asura qi.

He could feel it now—an invisible current lurking all around him, hidden from ordinary senses.

Xiao Ning allowed a thin smile to form.

Qi is the essence of all things.

It is the most fundamental energy within the universe—formless, invisible, and ever-present. All mountains, rivers, stars, beasts, and men are born from Qi. Whether it flows through the veins of the heavens or rests dormant in a blade of grass, Qi is the breath of existence itself.

Though limitless in nature, Qi is subtle and cannot be perceived by the mundane. To ordinary mortals, it remains a hidden force, unreachable and unseen. Only those who have awakened their spirit roots—the innate conduits of spiritual sensitivity—can begin to sense this energy. This is the very first threshold of cultivation.

A person's spirit root determines their potential. A low-grade spirit root may allow one to barely perceive the most basic traces of Heaven and Earth Qi, while a high-grade or rare-element root may grant affinity with specific or even uncommon forms of Qi. Some rare spirit roots even allow their wielders to detect obscure energies such as Soul Qi, Void Qi, or the elusive Asura Qi—energies entirely hidden from most cultivators.

To sense Qi is only the beginning.

Once detected, a cultivator must then draw the Qi into their body—not with hands, but with spiritual sense. This Qi must be guided through the body's meridians—the internal network of energy channels which, when activated, allow the Qi to circulate, refine, and strengthen the cultivator's physical form, spiritual essence, and soul.

Without spirit roots, Qi remained forever out of reach. Without meridians, it had no path to travel. And without will, no cultivator could survive the pain that came with tempering one's essence against the will of heaven.

This is the first act of cultivation.

The most abundant and widely harnessed form, 'Heaven and Earth Qi' permeates all places, from secluded forests to the highest peaks. It is neutral in nature—neither aggressive nor nurturing—making it the most stable and reliable source of energy. While gentle and slow to gather, it serves as the foundation for nearly all orthodox cultivation methods.

Those with no innate elemental affinity often begin their journey by attuning themselves to this universal energy.

The five elemental qis reflect the classical elements that shape all material existence. Each possesses distinct attributes and can be drawn upon for specific purposes.

Each elemental Qi can exist in harmony or opposition with another, and mastery over one often requires an understanding of its balance within the cycle.

Beyond the elements, there exist the twin forces that govern balance in all things:

Yin Qi – Cold, still, and death-aspected. It gathers in places of decay, shadow, and silence: old tombs, cursed lands, and beneath the waning moon. It is often used in ghostly arts, soul techniques, and dual cultivation with Yin constitution bodies.

Yang Qi – it is Warm, bright, and life-aspected. Found in sunlit valleys, volcanic mountains, and places of strong life force, it empowers vitality, aggressive arts, and enhances the body's natural strength.

When cultivated in harmony, Yin and Yang can stabilize one another and give rise to profound dual cultivation paths.

With the rune inscribed, the next stage could begin: the forging of the Asura Veins.