The Quantum Path to Immortality

[Author Note: During my research I discovered tomahawk(tomahawk is a missile) is not the correct spelling its called tokamak(the reactor). So going forward, its tokamak. Thank you]

The core formation process in most cultivation manuals could be summarized as "Compress Qi. Pray for results. Repeat."

Elias found the idea depressingly primitive. Squeeze all your gathered energy into a tight, hard orb like a desperate hamster stuffing a suitcase, then hope the compression didn't accidentally rupture your meridians or implode your dantian.

"Cultivators are a suicidal bunch"

Naturally, he opted for something smarter.

Most cultivators compressed their Qi during Core Formation like they were squeezing dumpling filling into a marble—violent, uncertain, messy. Elias, as usual, had better ideas.

He sat alone in his cultivation chamber, in his new outfit, breathing in patterns that matched the spinning gyroscopic formation floating above his hand. His divine sense traced the blueprint of the vortex formation into his own internal dantian—a tokamak-shaped nuclear structure of densely magnetized spiritual containment.

He didn't begin with his dantian.

He started with the mini-reactors in his cells.

Every single one.

Each of the thirty trillion cells in his body had already been transformed into micro-dantians weeks earlier—Qi-saturated, spiritually dense, and perfectly regulated. Now it was time to consolidate them.

"Why compress qi when you can spiral?" Elias muttered.

Compression via brute force? Inefficient.

Cyclonic rotational compression? Now we're talking.

Elias spun a filament of Qi within his micro-dantian in a wide orbit. Slowly at first. Then faster. And faster. With each revolution, the centrifugal force pressed the Qi inward, layering it upon itself like a hurricane folding in toward the eye.

Inside each micro-dantian, he initiated a spiraling motion. A subtle spin of spiritual energy. He wove in centripetal forces with magnetic Qi fields, directing the energy to circle inward like a cyclone feeding on itself. Each rotation compressed the Qi, not by brute force—but by geometry. Controlled angular momentum. Natural harmonics.

It wasn't even that hard.

His divine sense, which now operated at an atomic resolution, mapped and adjusted millions of cyclones per second. Like a conductor directing a symphony of storms inside his own flesh.

The process took hours. Hours of precise focus.

And then, one by one, each cell's core formed—a miniature, hyper-compressed vortex at the center of each mini-dantian. They glowed faintly beneath his skin like stars in a galaxy.

He paused.

The next step was the main event.

The tokamak.

His dantian—more accurately, his Qi-powered nuclear reactor—had been designed for exactly this moment. A central magnetic containment unit shaped like a tokamak blade, forged from restructured soul filaments and hardened Qi lattice.

Unlike normal cultivators who feared the collapse of their dantian like death itself, Elias had no such issue.

As he dismantled the old structure—scrubbing out the outdated design with the gentleness of a surgeon—he barely felt a thing. His body didn't weaken. His Qi didn't vanish. His cellular cores supported him, kept his system running at full capacity.

He actually laughed.

"If those cultivators knew what I was doing, their eyes will drop out. Idiotic bunch. Ever heard of redundancy?"

The fragments of his old dantian floated like debris in his internal space. Elias scanned each shard with divine sense, analyzing structure, elasticity, saturation thresholds. Data poured into his mind like sensory input.

He synthesized a new model. Stronger. Smarter. Streamlined.

And till shaped like a tokamak.

He invoked the same cyclonic compression method—this time on a massive scale. Qi spiraled violently inside the blade-shaped reactor, dragging more and more into the spin. His magnetic Qi fields reinforced the outer shell, regulating torque, distributing heat. The pressure increased. Temperature spiked. Rotational velocity blurred.

The core was forming.

Faster.

Faster.

Then—

Boom.

A soundless implosion. A sudden stop.

Not an explosion—an arrival.

The tokamak core had formed.

A hyper-compressed spinning Qi structure, bladed and radiant, humming with violent stability. It vibrated in a harmonic that aligned with every cell in his body.

The energy surge was immediate.

Qi overflowed from the core, washing through him like a tidal wave.

He barely had time to react before his pores opened—

—and black, viscous sludge jetted from his skin like spiritual sewage.

It hit the floor in wet slaps. Acrid. Thick. Pure filth.

"Oh, no," Elias groaned. "Not on the new outfit."

His sleek, custom-tailored combat uniform—lightweight carbon fiber weave, hex-threaded breathability, smart Qi conduction channels—was instantly stained and steaming.

He stared at it in horror. Then shrugged.

"Disintegration it is."

With a snap of his divine sense, the stained clothing unraveled into particles and vaporized into the air.

He stepped into the cleansing chamber and summoned water from the atmosphere. The bath formed in seconds, heat matched precisely to his preferences. He sank into it and let the impurities melt off.

Minutes later, clean and refreshed, he remade his clothing with the same method as before. This time with minor tweaks. Slightly more form-fitting. Reinforced at the knees.

He didn't look in the mirror.

He didn't need to.

His divine sense confirmed what was already obvious: muscle density up 43%, flexibility increased, overall symmetry at peak aesthetics.

Hair? Messy-chic.

Jawline? "Arrogantly noble," he noted.

He stepped out of the bath, dressed, and flexed a hand.

Power thrummed through him—not just stored energy, but rotational force. The cyclone within the tokamak dantian didn't settle. It spun constantly, drawing in Qi and refining it without effort.

He could feel it accelerating his cellular energy cycles. Harmonizing his micro-cores. Even his divine sense range had expanded by nearly 12%.

This wasn't just core formation.

It was core transformation.

And he wasn't done yet.

His hands curled. Sparks flickered across his knuckles.

Every muscle moved with lethal precision, supported by spinning vortexes across thirty trillion cells.

He didn't know what the next sect challenge would be. But if someone tried to stop him now?

He'd tear through them like a cyclone through matchsticks.

He sniffed the air. Frowned.

"Still stinks."

He turned to the wall panel and jotted a mental note:

❏ Invent spiritual Febreze.

Then he smirked and walked out of the chamber.