📖 Chapter 4 : The Lungs of Metal and the Breath of Stars
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Inside a hidden cave at the peak of Desolate Mountain, beneath the crushing weight of fiftyfold gravity generated by a spiritual stone formation arranged in the ancient eight-direction pattern, Huang Tian sat cross-legged, his body drenched in dried blood and molten metal, his breath no longer leaving through nose or mouth, but seeping from every pore of his skin, releasing silver vapor that froze in midair before falling like metallic snow—for his lungs were collapsing and being reborn, forced to evolve by the essence of **Heavenly Metal**, the only material capable of refining human lungs so they could inhale the power of the stars.
He had reached Qi Condensation Layer 7, his age now 180 years, and though physically he still looked like a fifteen-year-old youth, the soul within had endured more than 65,000 days, every second spent designing, testing, and building the foundation of the immortality he himself was creating, for he knew no heaven would grant him a path, no god would guide his hand, and no fate would permit him to surpass death—thus he must become the architect of that road with his own will.
At his waist hung a leather pouch containing a grayish metallic powder with a faint bluish gleam—**Heavenly Metal**, the only metal not born of this world, but from meteorite ruins that had fallen ten thousand years ago, said to be remnants of battles between ancient gods, retrievable only by those who could withstand ten-thousand-degree heat, rendering it impossible for ordinary cultivators.
He mixed the metal with the essences of seven rare herbs found at the height of nine thousand li: Small Wind Blossom, Root of the Fallen Moon, Leaf of Dead Thunder, Sap of the Soul Tree, Dust of the Fallen Star, Smoke of the Eternal Flame, and Water from the River of Ghosts. He ignited the mixture with spiritual energy at his fingertips, transforming it into a thick, blackish-gray liquid that carried the scent of burning metal mingled with rotting flowers, then swallowed it in a single gulp. On the first second, heat exploded in his throat, like molten iron tearing apart every cell of his airway, and by the third second, the torment reached his lungs, shattering old tissues, forcing them to die so that new ones might be born.
The pain was unlike any stab or wound, but as though his entire respiratory system was being welded with the fire of a dead star, as though every bubble of air in his lungs was being replaced with molten metal flowing like rivers through his body—and though blood streamed from nose, ears, and mouth, he did not move, did not cry, did not scream, for he knew every second of this torment was an investment into the eternity he was building, and that if he surrendered now, he would remain a fragile human lying on a hospital bed, waiting for death with eyes wide open.
For forty-eight hours he sat unmoving, drenched in blood and molten fluid, muscles trembling violently, yet the core of energy within his dantian remained stable, pumping spiritual energy to accelerate regeneration. At the forty-ninth hour, the process ended—his lungs were no longer biological tissue, but **living metal organs** capable of absorbing energy from air, from light, from stars, even from the void itself, able to filter poisons, viruses, and even **traces of foreign souls** with 99.99% efficiency.
He carved on stone with his own blood:
*"Lungs purified. Energy absorption increased by 1,200%. Resistant to highest-tier toxins. Ready for Layer 8. Target age: 190 years."*
Yet that night, as he left the gravity chamber, he felt something strange—not a threat, not an enemy's aura, but a **subtle shift in the world's spiritual flow**, as if the universe itself were breathing, and from far beyond, faint and distant, he sensed **a vibration not of this world**, as if something immense was slumbering behind dimensions.
Closing his eyes, he focused all his awareness. In deep meditation, he saw it: **a tiny crack in the sky**, invisible to mortal sight, perceptible only to a soul that had touched the world's limit—and within it resounded **voices from the Upper World**, the voices of soul-cultivators, the echoes of Dao, the clash of battles that shattered stars.
But he did not move toward it.
He merely gazed at it from afar, whispering softly:
*"I can sense you.
But I am not yet ready to enter.
If I go now, I will be nothing but a refugee from a failed world.
But if I leave after shattering this world's limit…
I will be a god born from the void."*
He knew, **the Upper World would not accept him**.
He bore no divine bloodline.
He belonged to no ancient sect.
He was not part of their system.
Thus, the only way to enter was not by pleading—but by **forcing reality itself to open a path**.
For that, he must **reach the Pseudo-Emperor Realm within the Starting World**—the highest realm that **should not exist**, for this world was never designed to produce beings of such strength.
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The next day, he began **Layer 8**.
His goal: **increase the density of spiritual energy by 500%**, and **create a dual respiratory system**—one for the body, one for the soul—so he could continue to exist even if his body were completely destroyed.
He used **starlight** as the primary energy source, for on clear nights, the essence of stars was far purer than that of sun or moon. Sitting atop the mountain, he let the starlight bathe his body, absorbing it through pores, qi channels, even through his eyes, filtering it through a **pulsar frequency net**, designed from data he once studied on Earth.
After twenty-four hours, he reached a critical point.
The energy core in his dantian trembled violently, on the verge of explosion.
But he invoked a **high-level soul-freezing technique**, suppressing emotions, thoughts, even heartbeat, so that the energy did not erupt but compressed, forced into every cell of his bones, muscles, and organs.
At the twenty-fifth hour, **a minor explosion erupted within his body**—not physical, but spiritual—and he knew:
**Layer 8 had been achieved.**
His age: **185 years**.
Now he could **control energy within a thousand meters**, conjure **permanent illusions for three minutes**, and his body could **fully regenerate in three seconds**, even if his heart and brain were destroyed.
He returned to the cave, inscribing:
*"Layer 8 complete.
The body nears its eternal form.
Ready for Layer 9.
Target: forge the breathing technique of the stars."*
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On the third week, he traveled to the **Peak of Seven Winds**, the only place in this world never touched by clouds, where winds from seven directions collided to form an **eternal vortex of air**, and there he began his greatest experiment: **to create a breathing technique that absorbed energy directly from the stars**.
He sat within the vortex, winds that could crush stone battering his form, yet he did not move.
Closing his eyes, he opened his pores to their utmost, beginning to absorb starlight not as light, but as **pure spiritual essence**.
At first he failed.
But then he modulated his brainwaves, aligning them with the **rhythms of distant pulsars**, and slowly, energy began to flow—thin, like strands of golden silk, but purer than any earthly qi.
After seventy-two hours, he succeeded.
He could now draw upon starlight even beneath the sun.
He named the technique: **"Breath of the Starless Sky."**
He returned to his cave, carving:
*"Star-breathing technique complete.
Ready for Layer 9.
But I am not ready to depart.
I must be more than a cultivator.
I must become a **Pseudo-Emperor**."*
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Three days later, the world began to act.
For rumors had spread: *"That boy is not human. He destroyed the Full Moon Sect. He can live without food. He can heal wounds in a single breath."*
The royal government dispatched the **Second Sky Battalion**, a hundred elite soldiers trained by high-level cultivators, each wielding spiritual weapons and soul-slaying formations.
They arrived on a rainy night, moving in triangular formation, sweeping the mountain with detection qi.
Huang Tian did not strike.
He merely sat within his cave, activating a **Third-Tier Spiritual Concealment Array** that erased all traces of his aura, while **summoning illusions**—dozens of phantoms of himself scattered across the mountain.
The battalion fell into chaos.
They struck illusion after illusion.
Each time one was destroyed, Huang Tian released a **subtle wave of distant energy**, dismantling their formations, breaking bones, rupturing dantians.
In six hours, eighty-seven soldiers lay dead.
Thirteen fled.
None saw his face.
At dawn, he emerged from the cave, standing upon the peak, releasing a single wave of energy into the sky—enough to part the clouds, visible to every villager below.
He spoke no words.
But his message resounded:
*"Come again, and none shall return."*
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By the fifth month, he attained **Layer 9**.
His age: **190 years**.
The energy core in his dantian had grown to the size of a fist, spinning slowly, radiating golden light visible even beneath the noon sun.
He could absorb essence not only from stars, but from **time itself, from the void itself**.
He could conjure a **personal domain**, a space where only his law prevailed.
But he knew: it was still not enough.
To reach the **Pseudo-Emperor Realm**, he must:
1. Forge a **Nascent Soul**
2. Shatter his energy core
3. Reconstruct an **immortal soul** from memory, will, and hope
4. Merge with the **Fortune Flame**—a fire born from every emotion he had ever carried from Earth.
He began preparations.
Gathering rare materials:
* The Minor Flame of the Ruined Temple
* Soul Dust of an Ancient Spirit
* Waters from the River of Fate
* Metal of the Dying Star
He knew the process would annihilate the last remnants of his humanity.
But he did not fear.
For he was no longer human.
He was the architect of eternity.
He returned to his cave, inscribing:
"Phase One: Complete.
The body has been refined.
Now begins the forging of the immortal soul.
The Pseudo-Emperor Realm… will be my stepping stone to true eternity."
Closing his eyes, he sank into meditation.
Outside, rain fell.
The mountain thundered.
But within the cave,
one soul continued weaving eternity, one breath, one star, one step into the infinite.