Chapter 43: Reaching Seven Treasure Glaze Tile SectThe luxurious carriage rumbled along, its movements smoothed to a gentle sway by the expertly crafted suspension and the well-trod path. But the path they were on was not the main, direct artery to Heaven Dou City.
"Elder Shi," Zhang Tian's calm voice had cut through the quiet hum of the journey just an hour after they had left Suotuo City. "We should not be taking the Imperial Highway."
The grizzled Spirit Douluo had looked at him, his expression questioning.
"Tang Hao is a man driven by rage and grief," Zhang Tian had explained, his logic as clear and cold as a winter stream. "He is predictable. He will assume we are fleeing directly to our destination. He will pursue us along the main route."
He had pointed to a smaller, winding path on the map. "We will take this route. It is longer, yes. It will add several days to our journey. But it is safer. We will take our time, resting properly in the towns along the way. We will arrive in Heaven Dou City not as exhausted fugitives, but as rested guests."
Elder Shi and Elder Li had exchanged a look, and then nodded in unison. The boy's reasoning was sound. The safety of their Young Miss was paramount.
Now, hours later, the initial tension of their escape had bled away, replaced by a comfortable, relaxed atmosphere within the opulent confines of their private carriage. The interior was a small room on wheels, furnished with plush velvet cushions, a small table laden with snacks and drinks, and silk curtains that shielded them from the outside world.
"So," Ning Rongrong began, a mischievous, teasing light dancing in her eyes as she leaned forward, her chin resting on her hands. "Your women, huh?"
Zhang Tian, who had been enjoying a cup of fragrant tea, raised a single, questioning eyebrow.
"That's what you said," she pressed, her smile widening. "Back in the woods, to that horrible Tang San. You called us 'your women'. I don't remember agreeing to that. Zhuqing, did you agree to become his woman?"
Zhu Zhuqing, who had been silently gazing out the window, turned, a faint, almost imperceptible blush dusting her pale cheeks. She shook her head slightly, though her dark eyes held a teasing light of their own.
"Isn't that a bit overbearing, Zhang Tian?" Ning Rongrong continued, thoroughly enjoying herself. "Declaring ownership without even asking us first? What if we don't want to be your women?"
Zhang Tian let out a soft, dismissive snort. He set his teacup down and turned his gaze fully on Zhu Zhuqing, a challenging, playful fire in his blue eyes.
"Is that so, Zhuqing?" he asked, his voice a low, smooth purr. "You don't want to be my woman?" He patted his lap. "If you do, come and sit here."
Ning Rongrong's jaw dropped slightly. She had expected him to get flustered, to argue playfully. She had not expected such a bold, direct counter.
Before she could even formulate a witty retort, Zhu Zhuqing moved. With a fluid, feline grace that was breathtaking to behold, she stood up from her seat, crossed the small space between them, and settled herself onto Zhang Tian's lap without a single word of hesitation.
Her curvaceous, leather-clad buttocks settled onto his thighs, a perfect, comfortable fit. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, her body pliant and relaxed against his.
Zhang Tian smiled, a look of pure, masculine triumph on his handsome face. He took her free hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a series of soft, lingering kisses against her knuckles, then her wrist. He then leaned in and kissed her cheek, his lips then moved up and seemed to be brushing against her cat ears.
"Hey!"
Ning Rongrong's voice was a sharp, indignant squeak. She stared at her two friends, her cheeks puffed out in a perfect, adorable pout. "I was just joking! You two are taking this too far! And you, Zhuqing! You traitor!"
She stood up, stomped her foot lightly, and then marched over to them. "Move over! Give me some space!" she demanded, playfully trying to nudge Zhuqing off his lap.
With a bit of awkward shuffling, they rearranged themselves. Zhu Zhuqing was now perched somewhat precariously on his right thigh, while Ning Rongrong settled onto his left, wrapping her own arms around his neck possessively.
"There," she declared, a smug look on her face. "Now, kiss me too."
Zhang Tian just chuckled. "But you just said you don't agree to being my woman. I can't go around kissing girls who aren't mine. I'd much rather kiss a compliant, beautiful woman like Zhuqing." He made a show of leaning towards Zhu Zhuqing again.
"No, wait! I take it back!" Ning Rongrong's face flushed a deep, beautiful crimson. "I was just joking! Of course I'm willing! I'm very, very willing to be your woman!" Her voice had devolved into a soft, pleading whine. "Please kiss me too."
"Now that's my good girl," Zhang Tian laughed, and he obliged, giving her the same tender attention he had given Zhuqing, kissing her hand, her wrist, and her soft, blushing cheek.
He then hugged them both, his arms wrapped securely around their slender waists. "Now," he murmured, his voice a low, happy rumble. "Aren't you two going to kiss me back?"
A shared, mischievous look passed between the two girls. At the same time, they leaned in and each pressed a soft, sweet kiss on his cheeks.
"Before we reach your home, Rongrong," he said, his expression turning a little more serious. "These next few days will be our last chance to have some fun for a while. We should enjoy the journey, see the sights."
He looked at them both. "Because once we arrive at the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect, I intend to immerse myself completely in my work. I have new weapons to design, poisons and herbs to research, spirit tools to analyze, and my own cultivation to advance. I will be very busy."
"Oh, chill out," Ning Rongrong said, playfully poking his chest. "It's my home, not a prison where you have to work so much. You can relax. But," she added, her tone turning a little more serious, "you're right about one thing. We should probably tone down the… public displays of affection. My daddy might be fine with it, but my Grandpa Sword and Grandpa Bone can be a little… overprotective. They'll probably want to test you a bit."
Zhu Zhuqing said nothing, but a quiet understanding settled in her heart. She knew that once they were within the watchful eyes of the sect, their secret, passionate nights would have to be put on hold. She resolved to use the time to throw herself into her own training, to become even stronger.
The journey took nearly fifteen days, a leisurely, meandering path through the heart of the Heaven Dou Empire. They stopped in bustling market towns and quiet riverside villages, sampling local delicacies, buying trinkets, and simply enjoying the freedom of the open road.
Finally, their destination came into view. The Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect was not a fortress, but a paradise. It was nestled in a breathtakingly beautiful valley, surrounded by low, rolling green mountains. A crystal-clear lake, its surface like a flawless mirror, reflected the azure sky. The air was clean and sweet, filled with the scent of pine and wild flowers.
And in the center of this natural wonderland stood the sect itself. It wasn't a building; it was a palace. A sprawling architectural marvel of gleaming white marble and shimmering, tiled roofs that seemed to be crafted from polished jewels. It rose from the landscape with an elegance and grandeur that was utterly breathtaking.
'My god,' Zhang Tian thought, his mind, which had seen the grandest skyscrapers and most ancient temples of his past life, still boggled by the sheer, unadulterated wealth on display. 'This isn't a sect. It's a fairy tale kingdom. They truly are the richest sect in the world.'
As their carriage rolled through the grand, open gates, Ning Rongrong became their excited, proud guide. She led them through vast, sunlit courtyards with intricate mosaic floors, past gardens filled with rare and exotic spirit flowers, and into the main hall, a cavernous space with a ceiling so high it seemed to touch the sky, supported by pillars of solid, carved jade.
There, waiting for them, were the three men who ruled this paradise. Ning Fengzhi, Sword Douluo Chen Xin, and Bone Douluo Gu Rong.
"Daddy! Grandpa Sword! Grandpa Bone!" Ning Rongrong's cry of joy echoed in the vast hall as she launched herself into their arms.
Once the initial hugs were over, she began her tale, her voice a whirlwind of breathless excitement and lingering fury. She recounted the entire saga of the spar: Tang San's challenge, their victory, and then, Tang San's vile, cowardly attack on her and Zhuqing.
As she spoke, the atmosphere in the hall grew cold. The gentle smiles on the faces of the three powerful men vanished, replaced by a chilling, murderous fury.
"He dared?" Chen Xin's voice was a low, dangerous growl, and the very air around him seemed to sharpen, a thousand invisible blades pressing in.
Ning Fengzhi's handsome face was a mask of cold rage. "Tang San… Tang Hao's son… So that's why he was lurking around that shabby academy. To protect his little whelp."
"And then that Tang Hao, the Clear Sky Douluo, showed up!" Rongrong continued. "He wanted to kill us! He was so scary! But Zhang Tian wasn't scared at all! He threatened him right back, and made him back down!"
The more she spoke, the more shocked her family became. By the end of her tale, they were staring at Zhang Tian with a new level of profound awe and gratitude.
Ning Fengzhi placed a comforting hand on his daughter's head. "Do not worry, my dear. No one will harm you here." But his eyes held a chilling, calculating light that made Zhang Tian suspect that a certain Titled Douluo and his son had just been moved to the very top of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect's blacklist.
"Thank you, young friend Zhang Tian," Ning Fengzhi said, his voice filled with a deep, genuine sincerity. "You have saved my daughter. We are in your debt."
The two Titled Douluos echoed his sentiment as they were thankful that Zhang Tian had saved their dear granddaughter.
"It was only what I should do for a friend," Zhang Tian replied with a polite, humble bow.
With the formalities concluded, business began. Zhang Tian requested a private chamber for his research. Ning Fengzhi, without a moment's hesitation, granted him access to one of the sect's most advanced alchemy laboratories, complete with a full set of forging tools and analytical equipment.
Then came the grand exchange. In Ning Fengzhi's private study, a room filled with ancient texts and priceless artifacts, Zhang Tian handed over a series of intricately detailed scrolls. The complete blueprints for his firearms.
In return, Ning Fengzhi presented him with a collection of ancient, leather-bound tomes and jade slips. "The complete legacy of the Breaking Clan," he announced. "Every herb they have ever cataloged, every alchemy technique they have ever perfected, every pill formula they have ever created." He also provided a thick ledger detailing the vast inventory of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect's own medicinal warehouses.
The exchange was complete. A new era of power had just been unlocked for both of them.
The rest of the day was a pleasant, relaxing affair. Ning Rongrong, in her element, gave them a grand tour of her palatial home. They chose their rooms—Zhang Tian taking a spacious suite in the central wing, with Zhu Zhuqing and Ning Rongrong claiming the adjacent rooms on either side, a comfortable, familiar arrangement.
They even had a brief, formal dinner with Ning Rongrong's mother, a woman of elegant, gentle beauty, and a few of her father's other wives. They were all kind and welcoming, doting on their precious Rongrong and treating her friends with a polite, if distant, warmth.
That night, for the first time in over two weeks, the three of them slept in separate beds, a silent acknowledgment of their new, more public surroundings.
The next morning, Zhang Tian was awake before the dawn. He was not interested in exploring the sect's vast grounds or enjoying its luxurious amenities. He had work to do.
A sect disciple, his face a mask of profound respect, led him to his new laboratory. It was a large, circular chamber, its walls lined with shelves holding every conceivable piece of alchemical equipment—glass beakers, distillation coils, grinding mortars, and a large, spirit-power-fueled furnace at its center.
Zhang Tian took a deep, satisfied breath. The air smelled of strange herbs and metallic dust. It smelled like progress.
'First things first,' he thought, his mind already a whirlwind of plans. 'I need to verify the knowledge. And then… I need to see what I can create.'
He turned to the waiting disciple. "Please," he said, his voice calm but filled with an authority that could not be denied. "Bring me the following herbs from the sect's warehouse. One hundred grams of Iron Heart Vine. Fifty grams of powdered Spirit Stabilizing Flower. And one stalk of the Three-Tailed Scorpion Grass."
The disciple's eyes widened slightly at the mention of the last, notoriously poisonous ingredient, but he simply bowed and hurried off to fulfill the request.
Zhang Tian walked over to a large, empty workbench. He unrolled the first of the Breaking Clan's ancient scrolls. The intricate, elegant script detailed the fundamental principles of elemental synergy and medicinal balance.
A slow, predatory smile spread across his face.
His experiments had begun.
Chapter 44: Alchemist and EngineerThe month that followed their dramatic flight from Suotuo City was a cocoon of focused, transformative labor. The shabby grounds and simmering tensions of Shrek Academy dissolved into a distant, hazy memory, replaced by the opulent tranquility and boundless resources of the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect.
It was a new world, a new beginning, and the trio seized it with a single-minded, relentless hunger for power.
The first few days were a blur of intense, solitary work. Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing, given free rein of the sect's elite training facilities, established a new, brutal regimen. They spent their days in the state-of-the-art simulation fields, sparring against the sect's most experienced Spirit Grandmaster guards.
Their coordination, already impressive, was honed to a razor's edge, their movements becoming a seamless, unspoken language of attack and support.
Zhang Tian, however, vanished. He became a ghost, a recluse haunting the newly designated alchemy laboratory that Ning Fengzhi had gifted him.
The chamber became his entire world. It was a symphony of the gentle bubbling of strange liquids in glass beakers, the sharp, pungent aroma of a thousand different herbs, and the low, constant, spirit-powered hum of the central forge.
For the first week, he did nothing but read. He sat amidst towering stacks of ancient scrolls and jade slips, his mind a voracious black hole, absorbing the accumulated knowledge of two disparate, brilliant traditions.
He unrolled the ancient, leather-bound scrolls of the Breaking Clan, their pages filled with elegant, precise script. Beside them, he mentally projected the pages of the Tang Sect's alchemy and poison records, stolen directly from the mind of the imposter.
The contrast was stark, and it fascinated him.
'The Tang Sect's knowledge is brutally effective,' he mused, his fingers tracing a diagram of a fast-acting neurotoxin. 'It's the work of assassins and pragmatists. Every formula is a weapon, every herb a component in a killing machine. It's direct, lethal, and lacks any real subtlety.'
He then turned his attention to a Breaking Clan text detailing the synergistic properties of sun-attribute and moon-attribute herbs. 'But this… this is on another level entirely. This is science. They don't just provide recipes; they explain the why. The fundamental principles of elemental interaction, the catalytic properties of different spirit beast bloods, the precise temperature curves needed to maximize potency…'
The Breaking Clan's legacy was a key. It didn't just give him a list of poisons; it gave him the language of alchemy itself. It allowed him not just to copy, but to create.
His initial experiments were methodical, a slow and careful verification of the principles he was learning. He started with a simple, classic Tang Sect recipe: the 'One Day Paralysis' powder. It was a straightforward concoction, effective but with a distinct, acrid smell that would alert any experienced Spirit Master.
Following the Tang Sect's instructions, he ground the herbs, mixed the powders, and produced a small vial of the greyish, foul-smelling substance.
'Effective, but crude,' he thought. He then consulted a Breaking Clan scroll on scent-masking agents. He took a fresh batch of ingredients and, following a different process, added a single, crushed leaf of the 'Silent Ghost Flower', a herb the Tang Sect records didn't even mention.
The resulting powder was identical in color and texture, but it had no smell at all. None. He had taken a functional, crude weapon and turned it into a perfect tool of silent assassination.
But theory and small-scale synthesis were not enough. He needed to test the true efficacy of his creations, their dosage requirements, their long-term effects. He needed human subjects.
He sent a formal, written request to Ning Fengzhi via a sect disciple. The request was simple, direct, and chillingly pragmatic: "I require three healthy, male subjects for a series of non-lethal toxicity and pharmacology trials. Subjects with a history of violence and a low probability of being missed are preferred."
Two days later, the heavy, soundproofed doors to his laboratory swung open. A team of grim-faced sect guards, their armor clanking on the stone floor, dragged three bound and gagged men into the chamber. They were rough-looking, their faces hardened by a life of crime, their eyes wide with a primal, animalistic terror.
"These are bandits from the Black Wind Gang," the captain of the guard reported, his voice a low rumble. "Caught them raiding a merchant convoy on the road to Heaven Dou City last week. They're murderers and rapists, every last one of them. The magistrate was going to execute them next month. Sect Master Ning thought they might be of more… use to you first."
"They will suffice," Zhang Tian said, his voice a calm, clinical monotone. He looked at the three terrified men not with malice or cruelty, but with the detached, emotionless curiosity of a scientist observing a new species of insect.
The guards deposited the criminals into three heavily reinforced cages that had been installed at the far end of the lab. As the door clanged shut, one of the bandits, a large man with a brutal, scarred face, began to struggle, his muffled shouts a series of furious, desperate noises.
Zhang Tian walked over to the cage, his face impassive. "There is no point in struggling," he said, his voice soft, almost gentle. "You are not going to be tortured. You are not going to be killed. You are simply going to help me with my research. In exchange, you will be well-fed and kept comfortable. It is a far better fate than the executioner's axe that awaits you."
The man just glared at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of hatred and fear.
Zhang Tian's first test was a simple one. He mixed a mild sedative he had created into a bowl of rice porridge and gave it to the first bandit. The man, starved and defiant, wolfed it down.
For the next six hours, Zhang Tian sat before the cage, a quill scratching methodically in his leather-bound notebook. He documented everything.
'Subject A. Time 14:02 - Ingested 5mg of 'Peaceful Dream' powder mixed with food. Time 14:15 - Subject reports feeling of slight lethargy. Pupil dilation minimal. Time 14:30 - Subject is asleep. Heart rate has slowed by 15%. Respiration is deep and even. Time 20:05 - Subject is awake. Reports feeling well-rested, with no memory of the intervening hours. Conclusion: Effective as a short-term, non-lethal incapacitating agent. No discernible side effects.'
It was a cold, ruthless, and highly effective process.
While his mornings were dedicated to the delicate, precise art of alchemy, his afternoons were a symphony of fire and steel. He moved to the other side of his laboratory, to the massive, spirit-powered forge. The crates of rare metals were his new toys.
He spent days analyzing their properties, melting down small samples, testing their malleability, their conductivity, their resistance to heat and pressure. He laid out the mental blueprints for the Tang Sect's most legendary hidden weapons, the ones Tang San dreamed of one day creating.
'The Buddha's Fury Tang Lotus,' he thought, examining the impossibly complex design in his mind's eye. 'A masterpiece of mechanical engineering, no doubt. But its reliance on Deep Sea Sunken Silver and a dozen other astronomically rare materials makes it impractical. And the assembly… a single mistake, a single misaligned gear, and the whole thing becomes a useless, expensive paperweight.'
His own design philosophy was different. It was born from the world of mass production and brutal efficiency.
But his most secret, most ambitious project took place only in the dead of night, when the laboratory was sealed, its walls shielded by a low-level energy barrier he had learned to create.
He had the sect deliver a series of heavy, lead-lined boxes. Inside them, nestled in soft padding, were the strange, faintly glowing radioactive ores he had specifically requested, materials the sect had cataloged as "cursed" and "unusable."
He built a small, reinforced containment chamber in the center of the lab. His body, sheathed in a constant, invisible layer of pure spirit power, was completely immune to the harmful, invisible particles that pulsed from the rocks.
'The principles are the same,' he thought one night, as he used a set of remote manipulators to place two small, specially shaped pieces of a particularly volatile ore into the chamber. 'Unstable isotopes. Neutron bombardment. A chain reaction.'
He took a deep breath. This was dangerous. A miscalculation could result in a catastrophic, uncontrolled explosion. He focused a sliver of his own spirit power, shaping it into a single, needle-like point. He used it as a trigger, a microscopic catalyst to initiate the reaction.
He felt it. A surge of power, so immense, so fundamental, it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. A tiny, brilliant point of light, no larger than a pinprick, flared to life within the chamber. It was a miniature sun, a contained star, and the wave of heat and energy it released, even in that tiny, controlled burst, made the very air in the lab hum.
'Incredible,' a voice whispered in his spiritual sea. Ah Yin had been watching, her own consciousness reeling from the sheer, primal power he had just unleashed. 'What is this, Zhang Tian? This is not the power of spirits. This is something else. Something… terrifying.'
'It is the power to end worlds, Ah Yin,' he projected back, a shiver of cold, terrifying excitement running down his own spine. 'A power we will hopefully never have to use. But a power it is good to have.'
His final area of research was a return to his roots as an engineer. He laid the four strange, low-grade spirit tools on his workbench. With a set of fine, delicate tools and the microscopic vision granted by his 'Detailed' level Purple Demon Eye, he began to dissect them.
He saw it then. The secret that had eluded this world's craftsmen for centuries.
'It's a circuit board,' he breathed, holding the tiny, teardrop-shaped core of the self-heating pendant under a magnifying lens. 'The power source and the programming are one and the same.'
He could see the intricate array of microscopic lines and symbols, carved directly into the surface of the attribute-infused metal. It was a complex, beautiful schematic, etched not with a tool, but with pure, focused spirit power. This array drew the innate elemental energy from the metal itself and channeled it, giving the tool its function.
He spent the next week practicing. He took a simple piece of iron and, using a fine-tipped forging needle infused with his own spirit power, he tried to replicate the simple heating array. His first attempts were a disaster. The lines were too thick, the energy flow chaotic. He created a dozen useless, slightly warm rocks.
But he was a relentless perfectionist. He refined his technique, learning to control the output of his spirit power with microscopic precision. On the thirteenth try, he succeeded. He held a simple iron cup in his hand, and it began to grow warm, a steady, gentle heat radiating from it. He had created his first spirit tool.
His old firearms, the ones that had so terrified the Shrek students, now seemed like clumsy, primitive toys. He began to sketch new designs, his mind a feverish storm of mechanical engineering and deadly intent.
He designed a 'Railgun Gauntlet,' a sleek, black metal bracer. It used a series of spirit-power-infused magnetic coils, controlled by an engraved circuit array, to launch a small, needle-like projectile at hypersonic speeds. It was silent, recoilless, and its penetrating power would be absurd.
He also conceived of the 'Resonance Blade,' a short sword whose hilt contained a high-frequency vibration mechanism, powered and controlled by a spirit tool core. When activated, the blade would vibrate at a frequency that could destabilize molecular bonds, allowing it to slice through steel armor as if it were soft butter.
He was no longer just a Spirit Master. He was becoming a true Spirit Engineer.
Two weeks into his self-imposed exile in the laboratory, a summons arrived. A sect disciple, his face flushed with excitement, bowed deeply at the door. "Young Master Tian, the Sect Master requests your presence in the main hall. And that of the Young Miss and her friend. It's… it's urgent."
When they arrived, the grand hall was filled with a palpable, electric energy. Ning Fengzhi stood in the center, flanked by a nervous-looking Bone Douluo.
And he was… radiating. A vibrant, powerful aura pulsed from him, so potent it made the very air shimmer. Floating beside him was his Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Pagoda. And it was no longer seven stories high.
At its apex, a new, eighth tier, crafted from a brilliant, shimmering light that seemed to contain all the colors of the rainbow, had formed.
"Daddy!" Ning Rongrong gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and pure, unadulterated joy.
Ning Fengzhi turned to them, and his face was that of a man reborn. The faint lines of weariness around his eyes were gone, replaced by a youthful, vibrant energy. His eyes shone with a power that was almost overwhelming.
"The pills, Zhang Tian," he said, his voice thick with an emotion that was close to tears. "The Breaking Clan concocted them exactly as you described. The moment I started taking them, I could feel it. A warmth, a healing energy, slowly mending the defect in my spirit. This morning… the bottleneck I have been trapped at for over twenty years… it didn't just break. It disintegrated."
He had broken through to Level 80.
The celebration was immediate and heartfelt. Bone Douluo Gu Rong was laughing, a dry, rattling sound of pure joy. "I knew it! I knew you could do it, Fengzhi!"
A few hours later, a spatial distortion shimmered in the hall, and Sword Douluo Chen Xin stepped through, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. He held a spirit ring, a deep, black, ten-thousand-year ring that pulsed with a gentle, life-giving energy. They had succeeded.
It was decided that the two Titled Douluos would accompany Ning Fengzhi into a secluded cultivation chamber to help him absorb his new ring, a process that would take weeks.
With the sect's leadership occupied, the rest of the month settled into a new, intense routine for the trio. Zhang Tian returned to his laboratory, his mind now free to focus on his own, personal projects. Ning Rongrong and Zhu Zhuqing, now the undisputed top young talents in the sect, took their training to a new, brutal level.
Another two weeks passed, marking one full month since their arrival.
Late one night, in the quiet solitude of his lab, amidst the bubbling of strange, colorful liquids, Zhang Tian held up a single, finished product. It was a pill, the size of a longan fruit. It was a translucent, water-blue color, and it shimmered with a gentle, pure light, as if it held a piece of the clear, midday sky within it.
'Mystic Water Pill,' he thought, a deep, profound sense of satisfaction washing over him. He had done it. By combining the foundational principles of the Breaking Clan with the more esoteric, and "strange" aspects of the Tang Sect's alchemy, he had recreated a mystical pill from the future that would be developed more than ten thousand years later in this world.
'It can permanently enhance a person's innate talent by one full level,' he recalled its properties. 'And for anyone under Level 30, it provides a direct, clean boost to their next spirit rank.'
His movements now practiced and efficient, he created two more. He then moved on to his next project, creating a small batch of simpler, but still incredibly valuable, Spirit Ascension Pills, each one capable of providing a single, clean level-up with no side effects.
Finally, he focused on attribute enhancement. Using the blood of a thousand-year-old Ice Silkworm and a Deep Sea Whale from the sect's vast inventory, he created a series of pills that radiated a chilling, potent aura, specifically designed to nourish and strengthen water and ice-attribute spirits.
He looked at the small, precious collection of pills on his workbench. The gifts were ready. The tools that would elevate his friends, and himself, to a level of power that the world was not yet ready for, were complete. It was time.