The weeks following our raid on the Xiao Clan's marketplace settled into a new, intensely focused routine. The chaotic energy of the outside world, the simmering rivalries and economic wars, were banished beyond the walls of our pavilion. This estate was no longer just a temporary shelter; it had become our personal fortress, our training ground, our alchemical forge.
We discovered a room in the back of the main building that was clearly designed for my 'father's' work. It was a stark, functional chamber with smooth stone walls, a polished slate floor, and a sophisticated ventilation system carved into the ceiling to handle potent fumes. In the center of the room sat a large, flat stone platform, cool to the touch and etched with faint, interlocking circles that I recognized from the journal as a basic energy-stabilizing formation. This was no mere study; it was a proper laboratory. I immediately claimed it as my own, my "Forge of Souls."
My process, once a painstaking, one-at-a-time affair, became a model of arcane efficiency. Each morning, I would enter the quiet forge, and Ming would seal the heavy stone door behind me. He would then stand guard outside, a silent sentinel, his Infinity a passive shield around the entire room, ready to contain any catastrophic failure. Inside, I would lay out not one, but three or four Tier 1 Monster Cores on the central platform.
My "Soul-Guiding Hand" had become an extension of my will, a limb I never knew I was missing. I would close my eyes and reach out with my spirit, extending multiple threads of my own soul energy simultaneously. It was a dizzying mental exercise, like juggling strands of moonlight. One thread would pacify the primal rage of a Stone-skinned Boar core, another would soothe the frantic fear within a Wind Wolf core, while a third would untangle the cold, predatory instinct of an Iron-headed Snake. It was a delicate, silent dance of psychic surgery, performed on a multi-dimensional level.
I no longer absorbed the purified spiritual energy directly. The alchemist's journal described a more advanced technique: condensation. After extracting and refining the chaotic spiritual remnants into motes of pure, white light, I would use my Dou Qi to compress them further. Under immense pressure and the guidance of my soul-threads, the ethereal light would solidify, condensing into a small, smooth, milky-white orb, about the size of a pearl.
These were my "Soul Orbs," my own unique form of alchemical pill. Each one was a vessel of pure, concentrated spiritual energy, far more potent and easier to absorb than the raw remnants. They were the tangible product of my labor, a growing arsenal of power that I could use to fuel my own breakthroughs or, perhaps, for other, more creative purposes in the future.
Our partnership had evolved into a seamless workflow. In the evenings, Ming would use his Six Eyes to help me pre-sort the next day's batch of cores. He would hold each one, his head tilted in concentration.
"This one's just sad, Qing-er," he'd say, tossing me a small lizard core. "Lived a boring life, died a boring death. Easy." He'd then pick up another, scowling slightly. "This one is nasty. Full of rage and spite. Put it at the end; it'll fight you."
He was my quality control, my spotter, my partner in this strange and unprecedented form of cultivation. Our combined efforts created a production line of power, turning the raw spoils of our marketplace victory into real, measurable strength.
The fruits of this relentless labor were undeniable. My Dou Qi, nourished by a steady diet of my own Soul Orbs, surged upwards. Within three weeks, I had broken through the barrier of the 7th Duan, climbed through the 8th, and now stood on the precipice of the 9th Duan of Dou Zhi Qi, the final stage before becoming a true Dou Zhe. My spiritual energy had deepened immensely, and my control was now exquisite.
The true breakthrough, however, came late one afternoon. I had just finished refining a particularly stubborn bear core, and as I absorbed the final, purified wisp, a triumphant chime echoed through my entire being, far louder and more resonant than any before.
[Synchronization with [Tang Sanzang (Caster)] has reached 5.00%!]
[MILESTONE ACHIEVED!]
[First Personal Skill has been partially unlocked!]
[Skill Acquired: [Minor Protective Sutra (Rank E-)] (Derived from [Teachings of the Buddha (Rank A)])]
[Description: By chanting a simple sutra and expending a small amount of Dou Qi, you can manifest a temporary barrier of light. This barrier is conceptually strong against attacks of a spiritual, demonic, or otherwise corrupt nature. It can withstand a single, direct physical blow from a practitioner of a similar cultivation level before shattering.]
I stared at the system window, my heart hammering in my chest. It was real. My first active skill. I practically flew out of the forge, my face flushed with excitement.
"Ming! I did it! I unlocked something!"
We immediately went to the courtyard to test it. I stood, my hands clasped before me, and focused. A simple, eight-word sutra surfaced in my mind, a piece of knowledge downloaded directly from the template. It felt as natural on my tongue as my own name.
"Vanquish all evils, let the pure light prevail," I chanted, my voice resonating with a faint, otherworldly echo.
I channeled my Dou Qi, and a small, translucent shield of golden light, no bigger than a dinner plate, materialized in the air before me. It shimmered, looking beautiful but incredibly fragile.
"Alright," Ming said, a grin on his face. "Let's see what this thing can do."
He picked up a pebble and flicked it with his finger. It shot through the air with the speed of a bullet. The moment the pebble made contact with the golden shield, it didn't just stop; it vaporized into a cloud of fine dust with a soft, satisfying fizz.
My eyes widened. We were both stunned by the absolute negation.
"Okay," Ming said, his grin widening. "A little more juice."
He stepped back, a faint shimmer of blue energy coalescing around his hand. He wasn't trying to create a vortex, just a simple pulse of raw, attractive force. He thrust his palm forward, and a barely visible distortion in the air shot towards my shield.
The instant the pulse of "Blue" energy hit the golden light, the shield exploded into a shower of glittering fragments. But it held for that crucial split second. The entire force of Ming's attack was completely and utterly nullified. It vanished as if it had never existed.
"Whoa," Ming breathed, genuinely impressed. "It's weak, but it's conceptually absolute. It doesn't just block; it erases. Qing-er, that's a serious trump card."
I looked at the spot where the shield had been, a feeling of pure triumph swelling in my chest. The weeks of exhausting mental labor, the nightmares, the single-minded focus—it was all worth it. This small shield of light was my proof. I was no longer just a girl with a strange power; I was becoming a true practitioner.
Our bubble of intense training was burst by the arrival of our paid informant, bringing news from the outside world. The city we had ignored for weeks had not been idle.
The economic war, she reported, was still raging. The Xiao Clan, however, was weathering the storm far better than anyone had anticipated. The massive, timely injection of cash from our bulk purchase had given them the liquidity to endure the Galeo Clan's price war without having to sell off their core assets. In a stroke of supreme irony, our selfish, predatory act had inadvertently become their saving grace.
Jia Lie Bi and the Galeo Clan were reportedly furious. Their plan for a swift, crushing victory had bogged down into a costly war of attrition. Tensions in the city were higher than ever, with minor skirmishes between the junior members of the clans becoming a nightly occurrence.
But it was the news about Xiao Yan that truly captured our attention.
"They say the young master has had a miraculous recovery," the servant woman whispered, her eyes wide with the thrill of the gossip. "He emerged from his secluded training in the back mountains just two days ago. Yesterday, in a public clan spar, he challenged ten of his peers, including Young Master Xiao Ning. He defeated all of them, one after another, without even breaking a sweat. His cultivation has soared to the 9th Duan of Dou Zhi Qi! The entire clan is in an uproar. The 'trash' of Wu Tan City is a genius once more!"
Ming and I looked at each other. 9th Duan. He had caught up to me. Yao Lao's new, harsher training regimen, born of the desperation we had caused, was brutally effective. Our rival was no longer lagging behind. He was right on our heels. The race was on.
After the servant left, I felt a renewed sense of urgency. My progress with the soul-refining was great, but I had been neglecting the other treasure we had acquired: the mountain of precious herbs. It was time to begin the next phase of my studies.
That evening, I had Ming bring one of the crates from the storeroom into my forge. It was the one containing the Purple-leafed Orchids, the rare soul-calming ingredient. I intended to begin studying its properties, cross-referencing it with the alchemist's journal to start learning the true fundamentals of pill concocting.
I opened the crate. The rich, soothing fragrance of the orchids filled the room. I picked up a single, perfect flower, admiring its deep purple leaves. Out of habit, and with a newfound curiosity, I decided to scan it with my "Soul-Guiding Hand." I wanted to feel the gentle, placid energy the journal had described.
I reached out with my soul-sense, touching the flower's essence. I felt the expected wave of tranquility, the plant's natural, serene spirit. But beneath that, tangled within it like a venomous snake hidden in tall grass, was something else.
It was a tiny, almost undetectable foreign spiritual trace. It was ancient, cold, and radiated a malice so profound and sinister that it made the chaotic rage of the monster cores feel like a child's tantrum in comparison. It was an energy of darkness, of predation, of souls consumed and devoured. My entire being recoiled in revulsion. My Taigong Wang template, with its innate hatred for such things, screamed a silent warning in the back of my mind.
I had never felt anything like it before, but a name, a dreadful name from the deepest lore of this world, surfaced in my thoughts with chilling certainty.
Hún Diàn. The Hall of Souls.
My blood ran cold. I dropped the flower as if it were a burning coal. An agent from the Hall of Souls—the shadowy, soul-devouring organization that served as the ultimate antagonist of the entire saga—had handled this herb. They weren't a distant, future threat. They weren't a legend from a faraway empire.
They were already here. Moving unseen, in our quiet, backwater city.
The game we were playing suddenly seemed like child's play. A far older, darker, and more dangerous game was being played all around us, and we had just stumbled onto one of its pieces.