Golden-Core

## Stages

### Early Stage

The just formed "Golden-Core" is unstable and requires weeks and months of nurturing to fully solidify.

At this stage a "Cultivator" has comparable if not lower reserves of "Spiritual-Energy", when compared to those at the peak of Foundation-Establishment.

The main difference instead lies in their ability to far more effectively and efficiently use the "Spiritual-Energy" that already exists, because of the far more centralised position and solid form of the "Golden-Core".

The Vital-Qi encased directly within the "Golden-Core" slows its disipation further, granting longer lifespans.

### Middle Stage

After stabilising and supplying the "Golden-Core" with additional Spiritual-Energy one will be considered to be part of this stage.

Using the "Golden-Core" as the center, and no longer just the "Dantian", the conversion of True-Qi speeds up exponentially, enabling the comparatively quick growth of the "Golden-Core".

### Late Stage

After the "Golden-Core" has reached a certain size one is considered to have stepped into this stage.

The differentiation into this stage is more or less arbituary and only serves to clearly divide those "Cultivators" of the older and newer Generations, as well as those with hope to advance to Nascent-Soul.

### Peak / Transitionary Stage - Soul Calling

 Soul-Control
 Soul-Infusion
into the "Dantian".

## Trivia - History

The golden stove. The golden altar. The bed of the soul. An elixir to sever man from world. A miracle to decieve the heavens. The shattering of fate. The "Golden-Core" as the symbol of eternity, coveted by Mortal and Immortal alike. Or so it's told.

In truth, no more but a small step on the path. Some might not even consider it the first. A lie, legend changed, deranged and led into absurdity over the millenia. The coveted pill of Immortality nothing but a sham. Not even of golden colour.

### Legend of Immortality

In folklore there is no difference between "Cultivators", nor the concept of "Cultivation-Realms". Instead it is believed that by using ones body as a furnace and thereby forming a "Golden-Core" one will gain "Immortality". As for why these "Immortals" do not ascend is aswered in a variety of ways, often base on local folklore and culture.

#### Immortal and Undying

Nobels often pride themselfs in their heritage, which is often connected to "Cultivators". From times far in the past they possess records upon which most of the myths and legends, surrounding "Cultivators" relie.

Although true in heritage, the scriptures and stories are, if not outright invented, vastly exagerated.

One such exageration is a "Golden-Core-Cultivators" Immortality. Acording to most scriptures, after forming a "Golden-Core" a "Cultivator" gains the ability to revive, even when reduced to a drop of blood. These originate from ancient stories of "Cultivators" though their truth has long been lost in the ravages of time.

### The first Golden Core - The Human Emperor - The First Immortal

The First Emperor. Supreme, Allmighty, Revered, Grand, Above All! All under Heaven he is, all above Heaven he rules. The First Emperor is dead.

The Second Emperor. An empire spanning countless worlds. No living beeing knows not his name, knows not his brilliance, is not his subject. The Second Emperor is dead.

The Third Emperor. A fool, a great great fool. Imprisoning the moons reflection in the lake, catching the clouds in the sky. His Empire falling into desperation. The Third Emperor is dead.

The Fourth Emperor. Where is he? Where has he gone? His subjects cry for help. They shout curses of revenge. They grief the world. The Fourth Emperor is missing.

The Human Emperor. Supreme, Allmighty, Revered, Grand, Above All! All under Heaven he is, all above Heaven he rules. All is his, all bows, all...

...but Eternity.

A palace blotting out the sun, not with its size but brilliance. Gods prostrating and begging before his feet. The people worshipping his name. A throne like the sun and moon. Memorials and Murals of grand Emperors and valient Generals dotting every wall. A floor of marbel, like the clouds, like the sky. The ceiling like a canopy sheltering the world. Grand, so Grand!

*Oh Human. Eternity is nought but dreams. Gods and Devils perish, to be forgotten by man. Commoners perish for their country and scholars write Epics to be forgotten. Oh Human, Emperors die alone.*

A beeing of no brilliance, no light. Heaven trembles, the canopy shivers, the marble breaks, the memorials creek, the murals loose all their colour.

*Oh, great Being. All there is is the Emperor's. Gods and Devils bow their Heads before me. The Commoners live lifes of bliss and freedome. The wicked are punished severly and the just rightly compensated.*

A throne of ravaged stone. A floor of shattered glass. He raises his gaze. The sky flowing in through the cracks and holes. Murals of fallen Emperors and Generals. Memorials of those long forgotten.

*Oh Human. Eternity is nought but dreams.*

*Oh, great Being. I have rebuild, what they destroyed. Brought peace to the world left to rot. Brought hope to the people that had none. Built palaces and streets alike. I rebuilt what the First Emperor founded.*

A darkest of nights, with neither light nor sound. The thunder of a beating heart. A hand of snow white bones rises, shackeling the most vulnerable of machines. The beating picks up. Boom! Boom! Boom! A smith creating his greatest work. An angry Mountain God cursing the heavens. Thunder and lightning! A darkest of nights.

*Oh Human. Eternity is nought but dreams. The First Emperor is dead.*

*Oh, great Being...*

*Oh Human. The Second Emperor is dead.*

*Oh, ...*

*Oh Human. You are dead.*

A ray to split the darkness apart. A curtain opening to reveal the worlds greatest play. The sun to frighten darkness to flee. The canopy no longer sheltering this oh so grandios expanse. It decends, Death recoils, the marble turns gold, the murals burn in flames, the altar shatters. The pillars crackle, like coal in a hearth.

The mighty divine to pity the weak. The Golden light to gift what is sought. Fields burn, people wail, Generals fall, wars erupt, despair runs wild.

*Oh Emperor.*

Flames devouring the palace walls. The clouds pushed of their fated path. The Heavens roaring in anger. The Earth wailing in sorrow.

*Oh Emperor.*

A world of chaos, of nought, of none, of death, of finiteness. No Empire.

*Oh Emperor. Eternity is nought but dreams. Oh foolish Emperor, it's all a dream. Oh Human, see what your Empire has become. Where are the Gods bowing to your feet, where are the people living in bliss, where is your Empire?*

Cracks. A pitch black hand of bone. Like sand, like water. A broken dam of brilliance. The brilliant light of a "Golden-Core" evaporating those doubting Eternity.

*Oh Immortal. You leave nought behind. You have nothing left. Even Immortals are forgotten.*

##### [Original Story:

As the emperor ruling the entire world he was bored.

Hailed the 'Human-Emperor' and 'Heavenly-Emperor', all humans and even "Demons" submit to the "First-Emperor". The three continents are under his reign and the world is at peace.

He has power, authority and wealth. All under heaven belongs to him and obeys his command.

Or so he thought.

Until one day he awoke to a strange and mesmerising scene.

A beeing, clad in gold, wearing wings, one of feathers and one of bone, stood in his room of grandiour.

His royal room is filled with all kinds of rarities, from powerful "Demon-Skeletons", the finest and most intricate of furniture and immesurably valued ornaments filling the walls to the finest of pelts and silk blanketing his bed. Every day he looks proudly upon this room, showing his grandiour, success and might. Even at night the room reflects the moonlight to make it seem like day.

All this had lost its luster. The bones of monsters creaked under the insvisible pressure, the ornaments lost their luster and the rare and hardy furniture shattered upon this beeigs arrival.

"First-Emperor, your time is nigh and the heavens judge. Your achievements are immeasurable, your dominion the world and power unlimited, but you must die."

These shocking words made him realise the truth. He was not the "First-Emperor". He commanded not the world, nor was his power immeasurable as he ruled only under heaven.

Time was his eternal enemy, bringing death. He like his forefathers had been blinded from this simple truth.

"First-Emperor, you must die in three years as was decreed."

Speaking these words the beeing disapeared but the room never regained it former power and grandiour.

Having realized his mistake the "First-Emperor" gathered all the wisest scholars, the mightiest generals and most frigthening "Demons" and created the "First-Order". Having realized his mistakes he and his new compatriots searched the world and created a new technique - the "Heavens-Scripture".

"Former-Emperor, it is time.", the beeing declared as it descended three years after, but it was fooled. The "First-Emperor" had used the "Heavenly-Scriptures" to transcend death and form his "Golden-Core". After three years of effort he had forged this of all the wealth in the world. Golden in colour it caused even the heavens to pale, not to meantion this beeing.

Thus , instead of reaping his life, the beeing fell to its knees and guided the "First-Immortal" to heaven to reign as its "Eternal-Emperor".]