Lestes awoke before dawn.
The cave lay silent, washed in faint grey light filtering through the concealed entrance. Cool air drifted gently across the stone floor. As awareness returned, his gaze moved over the disordered scene around him—
—and memory followed.
Everything returned in a single, unforgiving wave.
His expression darkened.
None of it had been deliberate. Neither he nor Feng Luochen had acted with clear intent. Their restraint had dissolved too easily, their emotions heightened beyond reason. The impulse had not been natural.
It had been invasive.
So it really has begun…
Closing his eyes, Lestes replayed every moment with cold precision. His conclusion left no room for doubt.
The sealed Nine-Headed Serpent Soul was no longer dormant. It was not merely influencing his emotions—it was leaking corruption. Worse, the contamination was not limited to him. Its presence radiated outward in subtle waves, amplifying latent desires in those nearby. During moments of heightened emotion, a passive domain formed around him—distorting impulses, dulling rational restraint, and magnifying instinct.
The realization sent a chill through him.
Turning inward, Lestes examined his soul.
To his surprise, he had broken through the second stage of Body Tempering and entered the third during the chaos. Under ordinary circumstances, that progress would have pleased him.
But not now.
As his perception sank deeper, he found something far more troubling.
Impurities.
Too many.
Foreign impulses threaded through his spiritual core like dark veins—alien emotions, intrusive thoughts, urges that were not his own. They carried a distinct aura.
The serpent.
His earlier judgment had been wrong. The seal had not simply weakened.
It had fractured.
Within the depths of his soul, he summoned the image of the seal. The Nine-Headed Serpent writhed inside it—ferocious, malignant, its presence coiled and immense.
And there—
A microscopic fissure.
From that crack, its essence seeped outward in infinitesimal strands. For his former self, such leakage would have been trivial. For his current state, it was catastrophic. Without his immortal soul anchoring him, he would already have been consumed.
His brows furrowed.
This is worse than I thought.
He was far too weak to repair the seal. Attempting to do so now would be akin to placing his head inside a predator's jaws and hoping it chose not to bite.
For the first time since awakening, Lestes felt genuine danger.
He forced his breathing to steady.
When he opened his eyes, he looked to his side.
Feng Luochen was still asleep.
Her breathing was soft and even. In the pale light of dawn, her features seemed almost ethereal—calm, unguarded, untouched by the cruelty she had endured. She looked peaceful.
A surge stirred within him.
Heat rose through his chest.
His breath tightened.
The serpent's influence flared.
No.
Lestes clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. He understood the risk immediately. If he remained here, the corruption would rise again.
Without hesitation, he stood and left the cave at full speed, vanishing into the forest.
Only after running a great distance did he finally stop.
He sat upon a stone overlooking the forest canopy. The rising sun painted the horizon in gold and amber. Slowly, deliberately, he steadied his breathing.
I need to purify my soul. Immediately.
There was no alternative.
Closing his eyes, he began reciting a familiar mantra.
True Soul Art.
This was a divine technique created by a legendary Buddhist cultivator whose name had been erased by time, though his legacy endured. Unlike ordinary cultivation methods that refined qi or flesh, the True Soul Art targeted the most fundamental layer of existence—the soul itself.
At its core, it summoned the Spiritual Flame of Wisdom.
This was not an ordinary flame. It was born of clarity and truth. It did not burn the soul—it cleansed it. Hatred, fear, lust, obsession, curses, demonic influence—all became fuel.
As impurities were incinerated, perception sharpened. Illusions thinned. Deception lost its hold. At advanced stages, one could manifest the soul itself as a weapon—capable of striking spiritual entities immune to physical force.
But the art was perilous.
If the practitioner's soul lacked sufficient strength, the flame could devour it instead. A single misstep could result in irreversible damage—or annihilation.
The True Soul Art was divided into nine levels, each containing three sub-stages.
The first level laid the foundation:
Soul Sensitivity — awakening awareness of one's own soul.
Initial Purification — removing surface impurities and intrusive thoughts.
Spiritual Foundation — stabilizing and storing spiritual essence within the soul.
Only after completing this stage could deeper purification begin.
Lestes began cultivating.
The technique was profound and unforgiving. Even with his past comprehension, progress was slow. But after two days of uninterrupted meditation beneath the rising and setting sun, he reached initial mastery of Soul Sensitivity.
His thoughts became clearer.
The serpent's whispers faded—if only temporarily.
To cleanse the corruption properly, he would need to reach Initial Purification. Ideally before stepping into the Core Formation Realm.
With my immortal soul, it should be possible…
Still, he remained cautious.
Over-purification could alter his fundamental nature. That was unacceptable. He sought balance—not erasure.
When Lestes opened his eyes, the sun stood high overhead.
His stomach growled.
"I need food."
Rising, he performed a brief divination and headed toward the forest's outer region, where low-tier demon beasts roamed. Suppressing his aura and masking his presence with spiritual sense, he moved silently between the trees.
High-tier beasts were unnecessary risks.
For now, patience was wisdom.