John now felt the time he had cultivated flowing through his Time Meridians, not as a smooth current, but as a series of tiny, rhythmic pulses, like countless miniature clocks ticking in unison within his very being, each a faint echo of the universe's heartbeat. Each tick seemed to draw a minuscule fragment of time from… somewhere beyond his comprehension. He couldn’t pinpoint the source—it felt vast, ancient, almost primordial—but he felt a subtle tug, a faint, almost imperceptible drain as if infinitesimally thin threads of time were being drawn into him from an unknowable distance, woven into the intricate tapestry of his own Chi.

John’s thoughts turned inward, focusing on his Time cultivation, the intricate dance of Chi that flowed through his Time Meridians. He now understood the true nature of this practice: it wasn't merely about manipulating internal energy; it was about attuning himself to the very fabric of time, becoming a living conduit for its flow. There were twelve main pathways, twelve Time Meridians, each corresponding to a number on the face of a clock, a perfect circle of temporal energy circulating within him. He visualized them now, glowing faintly within his mind’s eye, each point a potential nexus of incredible power, a gateway to manipulating time itself. First, I must unlock each meridian individually, he thought, his mind sharpening its focus on the task ahead, like a lens focusing sunlight to a burning point. Each one held a unique key to manipulating time, granting a specific facet of its power. For example, the Meridian of the hand granted enhanced reaction speed, allowing him to react to attacks that would be a blur to others, turning blurs into slow-motion studies. The Meridian of the Third eye allowed him to perceive time differently, slowing down his local perception, and granting him the time he needed to execute precise, complex movements with impossible grace. Once all twelve are unlocked, he realized, a thrill of anticipation running through him, I can activate the entire Time Clock, drawing upon the full spectrum of temporal energy, becoming a true master of time within my being. Only then, he thought, a steely resolve hardening his gaze, will I truly understand the flow of time within me, and how to bend it to my will.

Among the swirling currents of energy within him, John’s attention snagged on a distinct formation: a swirling vortex of temporal energy, subtly shifting and reforming into the familiar shape of a clock face, the numbers themselves etched in shimmering, ethereal light. He noticed one point on the clock face, corresponding to the Fourth Hour on his hand, pulsed with a faint, almost imperceptible light, like a single star twinkling in a distant nebula. An intuition, a deep-seated understanding, resonated within him: this was the Meridian of the Hand, and to unlock its potential, he needed to “wind” it, to set its temporal mechanisms in motion. He focused his will, visualizing his Chi as a stream of pure time, flowing into that specific point, as if he were physically turning the hands of a clock forward, each movement causing ripples through the fabric of time within him. He felt resistance at first, like a tightly wound spring resisting release, but he persisted, steadily channeling his energy. The light at the Fourth Hour intensified, growing brighter with each surge of Chi, the single star igniting into a vibrant, pulsating beacon.

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The clock within him began to spin, slowly at first, like a celestial gear turning in the vast clockwork of the universe. Then, it gained momentum, the hands whirling faster and faster, blurring into a golden vortex of light, a swirling nebula of temporal energy. The sensation resonated through his very being, a subtle vibration that intensified with each rotation, like the tightening of a spring preparing to unleash its power. Then, with a distinct click, a precise alignment of temporal forces, the clock struck twelve. A surge of energy pulsed through him, and John felt a sudden expansion within his awareness as if a new window had opened onto the vast panorama of time itself, a new Time Meridian allowing him to draw in far more Time-Chi than before. It was like a dam had burst, releasing a torrent of temporal energy into his system, flooding his being with power. He needed to acclimate to these new changes first, to chart this new territory within the landscape of his Chi, before attempting to unlock the other eleven Time Meridians. He wasn’t sure how long this process would take—days, weeks, perhaps even longer—but he knew, with unwavering certainty, that the true path to mastery, the path to becoming a true weaver of time, was forged one deliberate step, one carefully calibrated breath, at a time.

After the clock in his right hand completed its rotation, striking twelve with a resonant chime that echoed not in the room, but within his very soul, a wave of warmth spread through his arm. He flexed his fingers, feeling a newfound lightness, a sense of potential energy thrumming just beneath his skin. He then noticed a faint glow beginning to emanate from his left foot—the Foot Meridian’s hand was now pointing towards the one o'clock position, beginning its own journey. He was on the right path. Now that the Hand Meridian was fully active, he could experiment with the first fruits of his Time cultivation. He focused his intent, channeling his Chi through the newly opened pathway, and for a fleeting moment, he felt time itself slow around his hand. He moved his fingers, and to his own perception, they moved with blinding speed, though to any outside observer, the motion would appear perfectly normal. This was just the beginning, he knew. Eleven more meridians awaited, each a new challenge, each requiring a full rotation of its internal clock to unlock the vast potential of Time-Chi.

Now that the Hand Meridian was unlocked, a subtle temporal distortion shimmering around his right hand, John felt a renewed sense of purpose. The air in the safe room seemed to crackle with residual energy, a testament to the power he had just unleashed. It was time to ascend to the 30th floor and face the next challenge. Before leaving, though, he remembered his agreement with Jinn. He focused his intent, projecting his thoughts outward, towards the unseen presence that governed this place, the very stones of the dungeon seeming to hum in response. Jinn, he thought, the mental message echoing through the strange, unseen channels of the dungeon, the words hanging in the air like phantom whispers. I have another offering. This one is called ‘Highway to Hell.’ A moment of absolute silence followed, then a subtle shift in the ambient energy of the room—a flicker of acknowledgment, like a ripple in still water—before John turned his attention to the task at hand. After a brief exchange with Max, confirming the portal’s activation, John stepped through, the air growing colder as he crossed the threshold, ready to face whatever awaited him on the 30th floor.