Through embracing and locking, it could gather qi signatures, sealing them away without allowing any to escape.
With this strand of register qi, he could henceforth treat his own body as a completely airtight alchemical furnace whenever he fought other cultivators.
The greater the injuries he suffered, the more qi he could draw from his opponent.
Those foreign qi signatures, together with his own injuries, would all be locked within the furnace, accumulating layer upon layer with no outlet.
This register qi was like a gentle fire within the furnace, slowly simmering those impure qi signatures. As it continuously refined his flesh and dharma power, he would gradually develop resistance to attacks from similar techniques. Each injury would bring another measure of adaptation, until he might even become immune.
Keeping everything sealed within offered another marvelous benefit.
No matter how grievously he was wounded, the three qi within him would remain firmly locked away, unable to collapse and scatter.
Even if his qi was suppressed to its lowest, weakest ebb, it would never collapse like a rout stretching a thousand miles and sink into exhaustion.
Others might see him covered in wounds, barely breathing, yet the spark inside his furnace would remain alive, and the three qi would still circulate slowly within the lock.
Cicadas excelled at hiding, holding fast, and lying dormant. The more heavily they were suppressed and confined, the more injuries they suffered, the greater the might they accumulated. After a long dormancy, once the lock broke open, their backlash would be all the fiercer.
Li Fuchan carefully sensed the wonders of this register qi. The more he understood, the more amazed he became.
Yet before he could settle down to study it closely, he suddenly sensed something emerging soundlessly in the depths of his consciousness.
It