SSS-Rank 10x Reward System: Accepting Disciples to Live Forever Chapter 229: Grinding

After returning to the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo, Wang Chen didn’t linger for even a breath.

No tea.

No wandering thoughts.

No pretending to be a wise, lazy immortal.

The mont his feet touched the courtyard—

His figure blurred.

And the next instant, he had already descended into the first floor of the tower.

The familiar oppressive atmosphere wrapped around him again.

A faint chill crept through the air, thick with resentnt and decay, as if the space itself had long since forgotten what it ant to be alive.

Wang Chen barely paid attention to it.

His eyes were fixed on sothing else.

The newly awakened class window hovered before him.

---

[Class: Sweeper (Rare)]

[Level: 0]

[Strength: 1]

[Agility: 1]

[Perception: 1]

[Physique: 1]

[Mana: 5]

[Class Skills: Dry Broom – Level 1, Wet Broom – Level 2]

---

Silence.

Wang Chen stared at it.

For a long mont, he said nothing.

Then—

His eyelids lowered halfway.

"...Yeah."

A slow, tired exhale left his mouth.

"Why did I even bother..."

He dragged a hand down his face, the faintest trace of disappointnt leaking through his otherwise calm expression.

It didn’t make sense.

Not really.

After absorbing the luck of Murong Shenchen and the All-Seeing Immortal, he had expected sothing... better.

Sothing decent.

At the very least, sothing that didn’t sound like a janitor’s career path.

But this?

A Sweeper?

His lips twitched.

The faint anticipation he had carried into the tower quietly collapsed.

Still dog shit, apparently.

For a brief mont, he just stood there, staring at the absurdity of it.

Then—

The world around him reminded him where he was.

A low, guttural howl tore through the silence.

Then another.

And another.

The shadows stirred.

From the depths of the ruined land, twisted forms began crawling out, their bodies barely holding shape, their faces warped with endless resentnt.

The resennt ghosts had noticed him.

And they did not hesitate.

They surged forward like a starving tide.

Their screams tore through the air, sharp and broken, filled with so much hatred that it felt almost physical. The kind of sound that could make a grown man collapse in terror if heard for too long.

Dozens of them rushed toward him.

Fast.

Relentless.

Wang Chen didn’t move.

Not imdiately.

His eyes remained calm.

Empty.

As if what was charging at him wasn’t a swarm of vengeful spirits—

But nothing at all.

The difference from before was obvious.

Back then, this place had restricted him heavily.

Now—

Not anymore.

Slowly, he raised his hand.

Two fingers extended.

Like a sword.

A faint ripple spread outward.

"Three Turn Sword Art..."

His voice was quiet.

Controlled.

"One turn... to beco one with everything."

The mont the words fell—

The space around him trembled.

A vast sword field erupted outward with Wang Chen at its center, expanding like a pulse of invisible force.

It didn’t roar.

It didn’t explode.

It simply spread.

And everything in its path—

Was cut.

Resennt ghosts didn’t even have ti to react.

Their forms shattered silently, dissolving into nothingness the instant the field passed through them.

Dozens.

Gone.

In an instant.

The space within tens of ters beca completely empty.

Wang Chen stood there, unmoving.

A faint notification flickered in the corner of his vision.

Level rising.

Again...And again.

Almost absurdly fast.

But he didn’t even blink.

Didn’t care.

He wasn’t here for that.

His goal was clear.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine Resentnt Ghost Kings.

Anything else—

Was irrelevant.

Ti began to pass.

Days turned into months.

Months into years.

Wang Chen moved through the first floor like a silent reaper, cutting down anything that ca near him, his presence gradually becoming sothing the ghosts themselves seed to fear.

And yet—

What he was looking for...

Never appeared.

Ten years passed.

Then more.

Still nothing.

Not a single Ghost King.

Wang Chen finally stopped.

For the first ti in years, his brows furrowed.

"...There’s sothing wrong."

His voice was low.

asured.

"It shouldn’t take this long."

By all logic, he should have encountered at least one by now.

But the tower remained empty of them.

Silent.

Uncooperative.

Yet—

He didn’t turn back.

Didn’t reconsider.

Wang Chen was not the kind of person who abandoned a path halfway through.

Once he chose sothing—

He saw it to the end.

Even if it ant grinding through decades of monotony.

Still...

Even soone like him had limits when it ca to boredom.

So—

He decided to make use of the ti.

A faint ripple passed through his eyes.

The Rune of Non-Existent Authority stirred.

Sothing that did not exist—

Sothing that could not exist—

Was pulled into being.

A guide.

Perfect.

Flawless.

A step-by-step manual written by the most supre weapon refiner imaginable.

A guide so precise, so absolute, that even a donkey—

Given enough ti—

Could beco the greatest refiner in existence.

The idea itself was absurd.

Impossible.

Such a thing shouldn’t exist.

Which made it perfect.

Because Wang Chen didn’t care about what should or shouldn’t exist.

He had the authority to overwrite that distinction.

As long as the "non-existence" within the rune was sufficient—

Anything could be made real.

And right now—

He needed results.

Not logic.

Thankfully, it was only a guide.

That alone made all the difference.

Wang Chen understood his own limits far too well. Expecting himself to suddenly comprehend the intricacies of weapon refinent from scratch would be like expecting a donkey to recite Dao scriptures. But a guide—sothing structured, sothing that broke complexity into steps—that was different. That was manageable.

With that thought settled firmly in his mind, he stopped hesitating.

The mont his intention ford, the Rune of Non-Existent Authority deep within his qi sea responded.

It did not flare violently, nor did it release any grand aura.

Instead, it stirred quietly.

Subtly.

Like sothing ancient waking up from a long slumber.

A faint distortion rippled through space, barely noticeable, and in the next instant—

A thin book appeared in Wang Chen’s hand.

It wasn’t grand.

It wasn’t ancient-looking.

It didn’t radiate any overwhelming aura.

If anything, it looked almost... ordinary.

The kind of book one might casually toss aside without a second glance.

On its cover, a few simple words were written:

Weapon Refining for Dummies!

Wang Chen froze.

Then his eyes lit up.

A grin spread across his face, unrestrained and genuine.

For a brief mont, the composed, aloof cultivator disappeared, replaced by sothing far more human.

Excitent.

Pure, unfiltered excitent.

He almost jumped on the spot.

If anyone had seen him at that mont, they might have questioned whether this was the sa person who casually erased Domain Sovereigns from existence.

"Perfect..."

The word slipped out, filled with satisfaction.

This was exactly what he needed.

No unnecessary complexity.

No cryptic nonsense.

Just sothing that worked.

With that, Wang Chen no longer wasted ti.

While waiting for the elusive Remnant Ghost Kings to appear, he began diving into the art of weapon refinent.

The book did not disappoint.

From the very first page, it spoke to him in a tone that was almost... insulting in its simplicity.

It assud nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Every concept was broken down into its most basic form, explained with a level of clarity that left no room for misunderstanding.

It didn’t glorify refinent.

It didn’t romanticize the process.

Instead, it stripped it down to what it truly was—

Control.

And the very real possibility of ruining everything if one got careless.

For the first ti, the mysterious art of weapon refining felt... approachable.

Sothing he could actually grasp.

And so—

He began.

At first, the process was painfully slow.

Slower than he had expected.

Slower than he liked.

Every step required attention.

Every movent required control.

There was no room for shortcuts.

No room for brute force.

By the end of the first year, he had only managed to refine weapons at the Body Refining Realm.

It was... underwhelming.

By the fifth year, he reached the Foundation Building level.

Progress existed—

But it crawled forward like a stubborn beast.

Wang Chen didn’t stop.

He didn’t complain.

He simply continued.

Day after day.

Year after year.

Ti, within the tower, beca sothing distant.

Irrelevant.

He worked.

Constantly.

If he wasn’t refining—

He was fighting.

The resennt ghosts that once posed a threat had long since beco nothing more than moving targets.

He hunted them relentlessly.

Not out of necessity—

But out of efficiency.

The Sweeper class, as ridiculous as it sounded, was still a system.

And systems had rewards.

Skills.

Hidden potential.

He had no intention of wasting that.

Even if the class looked pathetic now, there was always the possibility of sothing valuable appearing later.

And Wang Chen was not soone who ignored possibilities.

Ti flowed.

Unnoticed.

Uncounted.

By the end of the first century, Wang Chen could refine Golden Core-level weapons with steady hands and calm precision.

The once unfamiliar art had beco second nature.

His movents were smoother.

Cleaner.

More deliberate.

The hesitation that once slowed him down had vanished.

And in the midst of this endless cycle of refinent and slaughter—

He finally encountered one.

A Resentnt Ghost King.

The mont it appeared, its aura surged violently, far surpassing the ordinary ghosts that filled the floor.

But Wang Chen didn’t react with excitent.

Or caution.

He simply moved.

The Ghost King didn’t even have ti to struggle before it was suppressed and dragged into the Thousand Soul Flag.

Just like that—

One down.

From that point onward, the first floor of the tower ceased to feel like a battlefield.

It beca sothing else entirely.

A training ground.

A workshop.

A place where ti itself seed to bend around Wang Chen’s will.

No matter how many ghosts gathered—

They couldn’t threaten him.

They couldn’t slow him down.

They were simply... there.

Resources.

Ti continued to pass in this monotonous yet strangely productive rhythm.

Every hundred years or so, another Ghost King would wander into his reach.

And each ti—

The result was the sa.

Captured.

Stored.

Added to his growing collection.

anwhile, his skill in weapon refinent advanced steadily.

Relentlessly.

Wang Chen could feel it himself.

That slow, grinding progress from before had begun to accelerate.

What once took years now took months.

What once required effort now ca naturally.

At so point—

A thought surfaced in his mind.

A quiet, almost amused realization.

At this rate...

Before I even finish collecting all the Ghost Kings...

I might actually beco a Grandmaster.

The idea lingered.

Not as a boast.

But as a simple observation.

And for once—

It didn’t sound ridiculous.