rin begins cultivating the third stage of the Virtual Body Cultivation Technique.
He sits cross-legged within the underground chamber, breath steady, expression calm.
The technique activates.
In his perception, its completion rate advances increntally.
0.01%…
0.09%…
0.12%…
The progress is slow.
Slower than ideal.
He lacks sufficient external resources. No rare herbs. No extraordinary beast cores. No spiritual treasures. He relies solely on his own blood qi to drive the cultivation forward.
Even so, his speed is far beyond what any ordinary cultivator could achieve with this technique.
Each second,
0.01%.
Steady.
Precise.
His control over every fibre of his being allows for perfect efficiency.
Under three hours.
That is all it will take.
Ti passes quietly.
When the final incrent arrives,
Completion.
The third stage stabilises.
In that instant, life power erupts through his body like a volcano breaking through stone.
His skin begins to split.
It peels away like the shed skin of an old serpent.
Cracks spread across his surface.
Old nails loosen and fall.
Strands of black hair drop to the ground.
From every pore, impurities ooze outward, dark residue expelled from deep within.
His body fractures slightly along its surface.
Darkened blood seeps from the openings.
His eyes burn sharply.
The Virtual Eyes' magic power activates fully, reshaping his vision.
The old blood drains away.
Within his body, new blood is born.
It flows bright and golden.
As it circulates, the cracks seal.
Skin regenerates.
Smooth.
Refined.
New nails grow.
Hair sprouts again.
It turns violet.
His eyes shift from dark to radiant violet.
The transformation is complete.
He rises slowly.
He does not feel a dramatic increase in raw strength.
His physical body has advanced to the First Stage of the Extraordinary.
But his cultivation is already at the Outer Qi Refining Realm, equivalent to the Second Stage of the Extraordinary.
The advancent bridges a gap rather than creating a leap.
Still,
His foundation is now complete.
Blood qi bursts outward from his body.
The expelled impurities, old skin, shed hair, nails, and the tattered robe are engulfed in crimson fla.
They turn to ash instantly.
His blood qi condenses around him, forming into a new robe, simple but dignified.
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He steps forward and opens the cultivation chamber door.
With a casual sweep of his hand, the ash and dust are expelled from the room and vanish into the wind beyond the corridor.
He walks toward his private quarters.
Hours later, freshly bathed and composed, he exits his room.
Chen Yi glances up,
Then pauses.
He takes a second look.
The change is subtle but undeniable.
The aura.
The violet eyes.
The bronze undertone of skin.
He suppresses his reaction quickly.
“Lord,” Chen Yi says calmly, “an official has arrived from the capital with a royal edict.”
rin’s spirit sense spreads outward.
He locates the official waiting in a side chamber.
“Prepare a lunch table in the garden pavilion,” rin says. “Invite the official there.”
Chen Yi bows.
“Yes, Lord.”
rin walks through the back door of the residence.
The scent of flowers and fresh greenery fills the air.
Insects hum softly.
Birds call from treetops.
Fish leap briefly from the pond, creating ripples in the water.
He walks along the stone path, passing trimd shrubs and blooming trees.
He enters a bamboo-surrounded pavilion at the centre of the garden.
He takes a seat at the table.
And waits.
Footsteps approach along the stone path.
Chen Yi leads a man dressed in official robes into the pavilion. The man carries a rolled royal edict carefully in both hands.
rin’s violet eyes flick briefly toward the scroll.
He gestures lightly.
“Sir, please sit. My servants are bringing lunch.”
The official pauses.
He studies rin closely.
The subtle change in appearance does not escape him, the violet eyes, the refined bearing, the faint pressure beneath stillness.
He shakes off the thought and straightens.
“Marquis Duan,” he says, “I am Zou Feng, an official from the Ministry of Rites.”
rin tilts his head slightly.
“The Ministry of Rites? I expected soone from the Ministry of War. What does our king want?”
Zou Feng’s eyes narrow faintly at the tone. The lack of reverence is not subtle.
For a mont, doubt creeps into his heart.
If Marquis Duan refuses the edict, he will bear the bla as ssenger.
He exhales slowly and unfurls the edict.
Holding it with both hands, he reads aloud.
“By mandate of Heaven, the King declares that Marquis Duan rin shall be married to my beloved daughter, Song Xingli. Let it be declared across the realm.”
He lowers the scroll.
His gaze fixes on rin.
“Do you accept?”
Silence falls over the pavilion.
The air tightens.
rin does not answer imdiately.
His mind moves swiftly.
He considers the benefits.
Marrying the princess grants legitimacy. When the ti cos to take the Song Kingdom, he could ascend the throne without overt force if he manoeuvres correctly.
It gives him a lawful bridge.
He considers the drawbacks.
The royal family fears him. The marriage is a leash disguised as a favour. They believe binding him through marriage will place him under their control, or at least keep him from becoming their enemy.
If he refuses, conflict escalates.
If he accepts, suspicion remains.
He weighs it calmly.
Conquering the Song Kingdom is only a step toward gathering faith.
His true goal extends far beyond a single realm.
He does not need to crush every kingdom personally.
He can use them.
As he thinks, the atmosphere grows tense.
Zou Feng’s palms dampen.
Chen Yi stands rigidly at the side.
Three female servants enter quietly, carrying trays of food.
Chen Yi gestures for them to wait.
rin finally rises.
“I accept the edict.”
Zou Feng freezes.
For a heartbeat, he cannot react.
rin extends his hand.
“Will you hand the edict, or must I kneel?”
“No need,” Zou Feng says quickly.
He hands the scroll over.
Chen Yi signals the servants to set the dishes down.
rin glances briefly at the edict, then passes it to Chen Yi.
He looks at Zou Feng.
“Official Zou, sit. Celebrate with my upcoming marriage.”
They begin to eat.
That night, in Anxi Town, Shen Ling returns in secret.
He moves under the cover of darkness, cloaked and hooded, accompanied by a small group of trusted partners from Yuling City. The town is quieter than usual. Too quiet.
When he reaches the Shen Estate, he stops.
The gates hang broken.
The lanterns are shattered.
The scent of old blood lingers in the air.
Tears gather in his eyes.
He steps inside.
The courtyard is empty, washed by rain and moonlight, but the stains remain. The main hall doors are splintered. Furniture overturned. Silence fills the space where laughter once lived.
Ren Yao stands beside him.
She gently touches his arm.
“Honey… we need to go.”
Shen Ling’s voice trembles.
“Any information? Who could have done this to my family?”
Ren Yao shakes her head.
“No.”
He takes one final glance at the ruins.
Then he leads the group toward a concealed section of the estate. He presses a hidden chanism, and a stone slab slides open, revealing a passage.
They descend.
The tunnel is narrow and damp. Their footsteps echo softly as they move quickly through the underground route. After so distance, they erge into the forest outside the town.
No one speaks.
They head toward their temporary camp hidden among the trees.
As they approach, Shen Ling slows.
He frowns.
The air carries a tallic scent.
Blood.
Ren Yao stiffens.
They exchange a glance.
Then both break into a run.
The clearing where their camp had been established cos into view.
Flas lick at overturned carriages.
Horses are gone.
Bodies lie scattered across the ground.
Their guards are dead.
The camp has been completely destroyed.
Shen Ling walks through the wreckage in shock.
At the centre of the camp stands a large coffin.
Beside it, barely alive, lies a single guard.
They rush to him.
Ren Yao kneels, placing her palms against his chest. She channels her qi gently, trying to stabilise his fading life.
“Ming,” she calls urgently. “What happened?”
Ming coughs weakly.
“A group… in cloaks… attacked the camp.”
Shen Ling clenches his fists.
“They killed everyone… left you alive? And what is that coffin?”
Ming swallows painfully.
“They wanted to deliver you a ssage. They said… the coffin is a gift.”
He coughs violently, blood spilling from his mouth.
“They did not intend to leave alive… I was poisoned…”
His breathing becos ragged.
Shen Ling and Ren Yao exchange tense glances.
Shen Ling rises and walks toward the coffin.
Ren Yao looks back at Ming.
“What is the ssage?”
Ming forces the words out.
“They gave the identity of who massacred Lord Shen’s family… and who attacked us…”
Shen Ling rushes back to him.
“What do you an?”
Ming’s voice is barely audible.
“ssage from our lord… We attacked the Lady for the final ti… If any such transgression happens again… those responsible will die… along with their entire family… From the Duan Family.”
He coughs once more.
Blood fills his mouth.
His body slackens.
Ming dies.
Shen Ling freezes.
The forest is silent except for the crackling fire.
Ren Yao wraps her arms around him.
“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”
She repeats it over and over.
Shen Ling’s face hardens.
“I will not let the Duan Family go.”
Ren Yao nods firmly.
“I will help you. I will take the trail of the Holy Gu Cave.”
They walk together toward the coffin.
Shen Ling pushes the lid aside.
Inside,
Heads.
Severed.
Arranged carefully.
They recognise several faces.
mbers of their organisation.
Star Singer.
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