Jing Qian's avatar descended into the Stele of Fate's inner space. Without the slightest pause, he immediately fell into his unique rhythm of cultivation.
Before him stood two cultivators, both of whom in life had reached the Ninth Rank Fatebinding Realm, each possessing no fewer than seven White Fang Life Essences.
If not for lacking the proper Fate Pattern refinement methods, they would likely have already gathered enough Life Essences to ascend into the Eighth Rank Dragon-Elephant Realm.
Though single-digit White Fang Essences seemed meager, in truth, each represented life essence several times that of an ordinary human.
And with the mysterious power of their Fate Patterns, the strength they could unleash was nothing short of terrifying.
As for Jing Qian, a mere uninitiated novice, he had no power to resist them head-on. He could only rely on the sanctuary of the Safe Zone to gradually wear them down, bit by bit.
Fortunately, even the scraps that fell from these cultivators were enough for him to hungrily devour and refine.
"0.69!"
"0.75!"
"0.83!"
Step by step, he drew closer to condensing the very first White Fang Life Essence of his life.
For him, this was a leap from nothing into something, a transformation of fundamental essence.
From fragile mortal to possessing the faintest trace of spell power, the feeling of accumulating strength little by little was both wondrous and intoxicating.
A single White Fang Life Essence, in its truest form, represented the complete vitality of an adult human being.
To forge such an essence meant squeezing from one's body and soul the equivalent of another full-grown life, and refining it into crystallized form.
If one lacked sufficient foundation or used the wrong methods, the process would be agonizingly slow and nearly impossible.
The sheer difficulty of cultivation revealed itself from the very first step. This step of raising Life Essence was enough to block ninety-nine out of a hundred mortals.
But Jing Qian possessed a heaven-defying advantage: he could devour the Life Essences of others and make them his own.
The difference in efficiency was beyond anything he had imagined.
Immersed in the Stele of Fate, he absorbed the lingering aura of the fallen Ninth Rank cultivators. To him, it was like nectar, every wisp a treasure, each thread carefully refined into his nourishment.
"0.92!"
The number in his mind climbed higher. He could feel the White Fang Essence forming within his dantian, like a crystal seed sprouting roots in fertile soil, budding into new life.
"0.97!"
Another violent clash resounded, and from the two cultivators' bodies rose vast clouds of pale-white energy, surging toward Jing Qian.
Exhaling slowly, he ceased all movement, sitting cross-legged within the safety of the zone, calmly awaiting the arrival of the smoke.
Once refined, these final streams of essence would complete his first Life Essence.
Along with them came fragments of memory.
Jing Qian accepted them without hesitation, digesting them in an instant. To his surprise, the two memory strands were nearly identical, vivid and crystal clear.
...
Inside a vast temple hall, ten robust young men stood in a row, their gazes fixed ahead, their expressions solemn.
Across from them stood a tall monk in white robes, his face tinged with green.
The monk spoke:
"You have willingly signed the contract, offering thirty years of your freedom in exchange for the Fatefire bestowed by our Temple of She Dizang, to burn your bodies and bind your fates in pursuit of the Dao."
"Fortunately, our abbot is compassionate and kind, moved by your talents. He has granted you this chance to defy heaven and change your destiny."
"Behind me are side chambers, each containing three sticks of Fate Incense, connected to our temple's Furnace of Fate."
"Each of you may choose a chamber, ignite the incense, and attempt to bind your fate and ascend. We of She Dizang Temple merely provide the chance of Fatefire. Whether you succeed or fail, live or die, is left entirely to your destiny. Enter now."
With a sweep of his hand, the ten prepared youths stepped into the side rooms behind him.
Here, the memory diverged. The tall and the short cultivators were among them, each choosing a chamber of his own, beginning the process of Fatebinding.
Inside, they laid out three ritual materials before the sticks of incense.
Then, seated solemnly, they began to apply the Three-Beast Fatebinding Method, using their hard-earned White Fang Essences to connect with the incense before them.
In the next moment, the three sticks ignited on their own.
The smoke rose, linking with a strange flame deep within the temple. In an instant, fierce white fire filled the entire chamber.
The fire left the wooden furniture untouched, but poured its full burning force into the two youths.
"AAAHHHH!"
Even though Jing Qian was only experiencing a memory, the agony of body and soul burning together was searingly real. It was as if he had already stepped into that trial, tasting in advance the torment of binding his fate.
...
Jing Qian slowly awoke from his meditation, carefully steadying his condition.
On the Stele of Fate, the number shone brilliantly:
[Life Essence: 1.01] (White Fang)!
That final push of Life Essence had not come easily!
In those memories, he had endured two complete trials of being burned by the Fatefire, suffering the agony of binding his fate and entering the Dao, tormented to the brink of death and back again.
Even now, though his mind had returned to clarity, he still felt as though his body was battered and broken, his soul withered and blood drained.
Yet, together with the pain, he had gained two precious experiences of successful Fatebinding. For Jing Qian at this moment, such knowledge was beyond measure.
He immediately withdrew from the Stele of Fate's space and returned to reality.
He was fully prepared.
"Qingzhuzi, help me bind my fate and step onto the Dao!"
The moment his words fell, the Soulweaver Demon Spider beneath him sprang into action.
A thread of shimmering azure silk descended from above, coiling tightly around his ankle before hoisting him upside down into the air.
Layer after layer of silk wrapped around him, binding him from head to toe, covering even his eyebrows, eyes, nose, and mouth.
In the end, his whole body resembled a blue silkworm cocoon, leaving him no space to move at all.
Dangling headfirst, the added squeeze of the silk made blood rush to his skull until his face flushed crimson.
Then, three more strands of silk extended downward, stabbing directly into the center of his brow.
Blood seeped along the threads, staining them red.
With a surge of Qingzhuzi's power, the three strands suddenly ignited like three crimson candles, blazing furiously.
The flames burned so close that the outer tongues of fire nearly brushed against Jing Qian's scalp!
The searing heat focused upon his forehead, as if a red-hot iron spike were boring into his most sensitive nerves.
At that instant, clarity struck Jing Qian, and he instinctively began to wield the Three-Beast Fatebinding Method, so well-practiced within his mind.