Ashen had encountered many cultivators blessed with unusual physiques in his time—those born with Herculean strength, ethereal beauty, or unparalleled intellect—but this?
This was entirely new. It wasn't just the physical magnitude of Eren's phallus that was alarming; it was the intensity of energy pooling within the organ.
For a fleeting moment, Ashen's thoughts threatened to wander into admiration for the body's latent power, but he quickly snapped himself back to reality. This was no time to marvel at anatomical curiosities.
The concentration of yang energy in his nether regions posed a serious risk. The blood flow to the area was dangerously high, threatening to cut off circulation entirely.
If he didn't find a way to redistribute the energy soon, the consequences would be dire—perhaps even leading to the same impotence he had just barely escaped.
A grim expression settled over his face as he considered the absurdity of his predicament. Of all the problems he'd faced in his life—wars, betrayals, poisonings—this was perhaps the most ridiculous. And yet, it was no less deadly.
He closed his eyes, forcing his breathing to steady as he focused his thoughts. The solution wouldn't come from panicking or despairing over the absurdity of his circumstances. If nothing else, Ashen was a master of adapting to impossible odds.
"Calm the flow," he thought, his voice a silent command to himself. "Redirect the energy before it consumes me."
There was no guarantee of success, but Ashen had no intention of letting something as trivial as an overcharged phallus be the death of him. If he could survive centuries of Murim's cutthroat world, he could survive this.
Ashen's mind became a whirlwind of possibilities as he mentally cataloged every cultivation practice he had learned in his previous life. There were thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, spanning continents and centuries. From righteous sects to demonic cults, each had their own unique insights, their own methods for taming the chaotic flow of energy within the human body.
The problem was, none of them were designed for a situation like this.
The Flowing Meridian Sutra, with its gentle, methodical approach, would provide some relief. But it lacked the strength to untangle the deeper knots in Eren's meridians. On the other hand, the Furious Vein Severance Technique, a brutal method he'd once used to bypass a deadly poison in his veins, was far too aggressive. It would likely cause permanent damage to Eren's already fragile pathways.
"Each technique is a tool," Ashen mused, his mind racing. "But no single tool can build a fortress. I need to be the architect."
As he sifted through his memories, fragments of past battles surfaced in his mind. He remembered the time he had fought a cultivator who wielded the Nine Rings Formation, a technique that channeled energy through interconnected loops to achieve balance.
He also recalled a forbidden practice known as the Breath of the Abyss, which allowed its user to compress energy into a singular point before dispersing it evenly throughout the body.
Individually, neither was sufficient. Together? They might form the skeleton of a solution.
Ashen's thoughts turned to his past struggles in Murim. He had always been at a disadvantage, born without a special physique or innate talent. While others had relied on their natural gifts, Ashen had relied on sheer ingenuity, learning techniques from every opponent he faced. His adaptability was his true strength, and it had turned him into a living library of martial and cultivation arts.
"That's it," he thought, his eyes narrowing with determination. "I don't need to follow any single path. I'll forge my own."
Ashen's gaze darkened as he stared inwardly at the mess that was Eren's meridian system. Twisted beyond recognition, the once-clear pathways were now an impenetrable web of scarred channels.
Untangling each knot individually would have been the obvious solution, but it wasn't an option. Not with a body as frail as Eren's current state. Any attempt to forcefully unravel the tangled qi would tear his meridians apart and kill him on the spot.
The weight of his predicament was suffocating, but desperation bred ingenuity. Ashen's mind raced, crafting a plan so unorthodox that most cultivators would have dismissed it outright.
"What if," he thought, his consciousness tracing the chaotic pathways, "I treat the entirety of this chaos as a single entity?"
The idea was counterintuitive. Treating the countless twisted meridians as one would reduce efficiency to almost nothing. The energy flow would be sluggish and unrefined, barely enough to sustain the body.
But it was better than the alternative: death. By focusing on establishing a crude, overarching circulation system, he could buy himself time to recover, strengthen Eren's body, and untangle the knots one by one later.
To make sense of the chaos, Ashen began to visualize the energy as a river. Its current was blocked by fallen trees, choked with debris, and forced into erratic streams.
His task was not to clear every obstruction outright—he lacked the strength and time for that—but to redirect the flow, carving out a single functional channel.
He imagined the Nine Rings Formation, not as its traditional nine loops, but as a simplified structure—three loops acting as temporary reservoirs for the excess yang energy. These loops would stabilize the flow, preventing it from overwhelming Eren's weakened system.
Next, he envisioned compressing the chaotic energy into a singular point within the central loop, using the principles of the Breath of the Abyss. The compressed energy would act as a makeshift dantian, a containment zone where the raging energy could be calmed and redistributed.
It was a delicate balance, one that required constant focus. Too much compression, and the energy would detonate. Too little, and it would spill out, flooding Eren's body and destroying what little remained of his meridians.
Eren's meridians were not merely twisted; they were scarred, frayed, and in some places, nearly obliterated. The Heavenly Yang Constitution had amplified the damage caused by years of poisoning, leaving his internal pathways barely functional. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was a strange resilience, a raw vitality that refused to be extinguished.
"Your body is stubborn," Ashen muttered, half in admiration, half in exasperation. "I suppose that's something we have in common."
He began to visualize the energy as a river, its current blocked by fallen trees and jagged rocks. His task was to clear the debris without breaking the banks.