The world was hushed, wrapped in the cloak of a deep and moon-drunk night. Outside the Twin Peak Hill, the vast cherry blossom grove slept and dreamed, its slumber a thing of breathtaking beauty.
A soft night breeze whispered through the infinite branches, a wandering spirit carrying the fleeting, spectral chill of the unseen realms that lay just beyond the edge of sight. It was this breath that stirred the grove to life. From on high, countless blossoms answered its call. Their petals, a pale and ghostly pink-white, glowed with an inner luminescence borrowed from the great, pulsing blood moon that hung low in the star-flecked sky. They were not merely falling; they were descending in a silent, mesmerizing cascade, a slow-motion snowfall of perfumed silk.
The air itself grew thick with their scent—a faint, sweet fragrance of honey and almonds that spoke of life's brief, beautiful tenure. Each drifting petal caught the moon's strange light, becoming for a moment a tiny, self-contained lantern before spinning away into the darkness. The grove floor was already a sea of them, a soft, undulating carpet that seemed to absorb all sound, creating a profound and sacred silence.
Yet, amidst this beautiful, haunting floral rain, a stark and unnatural anomaly persisted. It centered on the still form of Lordi and the malevolent artifact that was this constant companion—the Sword of Red Run. The blade did not rest, but hovered menacingly in the air beside him like a hawk waiting to stoop.
Around them, the grove's gentle law was revoked. A perfect circle, extending one meter in all directions, lay utterly barren. No delicate pink-white petal, no matter how errant the breeze, dared intrude upon this invisible demesne. The earth within was bare, hard-packed soil, a wound upon the grove land's soft, petal-strewn flesh.
This was no passive exclusion. The sword's aura radiated a palpable intent, a sharp, bloodthirsty edge that repelled all "intruders" with a ruthless, conscious efficiency. The air within this cursed radius did not whisper or chill; it hummed with a latent, seething violence. It was thick with the coppery metallic tang of impending slaughter, a scent that clawed at the back of the throat, as if the blade itself were exhaling the condensed breath of a thousand vengeful spirits.
Cherry blossoms, borne on a gust that ventured too close, did not simply veer away or settle at the boundary. They were assaulted. An unseen, razor-edged fury lashed out, seizing their fragile forms and, in the space of a heartbeat, shredding them into nothingness. They did not fall; they vanished, leaving behind not even a memory of their passing, only faint, ghostly wisps of ethereal dust that were swallowed instantly by the oppressive gloom.
Lordi was utterly oblivious to the subtle, unnatural shifts occurring in the world around him. His entire consciousness was turned inward, completely consumed by the cataclysmic upheaval raging within the confines of his own form. It was a internal tempest of such profound violence that it eclipsed all external sensation, trapping his awareness in a maelstrom of breaking and remaking.
A sudden, violent tremor, more profound than any earthquake, ripped through the intricate network of his meridians. It was as if foundational chains, bonds that had constrained his potential since birth, had not merely broken but vaporized, unleashing a torrent of raw spirit energy that exploded through him with unprecedented, terrifying vigor. The energy that had once meandered through his pathways like a gentle fog stream now roared with the thunderous force of a burgeoning river unleashed after a great dam had collapsed.
This newly unleashed power did not just flow; it ignited. It pulsed through every vein, every minute channel, and every nerve ending with a searing, purifying heat that felt less like cultivation and more like a baptism of celestial fire.
Most astonishingly, under the immense pressure and profound density of this energy, his spirit energy underwent an impossible ascension, condensing from a gaseous state into a shimmering, liquid form—the spirit essence that was the sole hallmark of a Foundation Stage cultivator. This was not a mere increase in volume but a fundamental change in quality. Such a metamorphosis was a blatant defiance of the cultivation world's natural order, an event that should be utterly impossible for any mortal still bound within the Qi Refinement Stage.
Simultaneously, the transformation reached the deepest bedrock of his physical form. Deep within his core, his entire skeletal structure underwent a radical and indescribable metamorphosis. His Refined-Tier bones emitted a symphony of low creaks and resonant cracks, not of breaking, but of reformation, as if unseen spectral hands were diligently sculpting living ivory and reforging it into a more perfect, resilient architecture.
In a span of time that defied all reasonable expectation—a mere two hours—the impossible had been achieved. The raging river of power reached a new, towering peak, and with a final, silent internal detonation, Lordi felt the last barrier give way. The chaotic energy settled into a new, higher state of harmonious circulation, thrumming with a potency he had never before known.
He had breached directly into the Eighth Layer of the Qi Refinement Stage!
A flicker of pure exhilaration stirred in the depths of Lordi's heart. But this momentary uplift was swiftly extinguished as his peripheral gaze fell upon the hovering Sword of Red Run. His good mood evaporated like a wisp of mist under a scorching sun.
Damn!
The curse was a silent snarl. He had to devise a stratagem, a perfect deception to trick this sentient steel of slaughter and send it back to the abyss from where it came.
Time seemed to warp, stretching and compressing in the silence of the One-Click-Cultivation proccess. As the immense External Spirit Essence cycled through his vein, Lordi's strength intensified. The roaring aura from his body became stronger, denser, a storm contained within flesh and bone. His cultivation, fueled by this violent influx, catapulted upward like a rocket.
He could feel the boundaries of his being expand, the walls of the Eighth Layer of Qi Refinement straining, thinning, becoming as fragile as glass. The AllFullOS system worked with cold, relentless efficiency, refining the chaotic alien power into a pure, driving force that crashed against the limits. When less than half of the External Spirit Essence had been purified and absorbed, his power already coalescing at the absolute peak of the Eighth Layer.
The barrier to the Ninth Layer loomed before his spirit, a tantalizingly thin veil shimmering with the promise of a profound transformation. His body gathered the roaring tide of spirit essence for one final, shattering push.
And then, a clean, mechanical chime suddenly echoed in his mind.
~ Ding! *System Notification Chime*
[AllFullOS: Version 1.0.0]
> Detected Spirit Essence Overflow.
- Classification: [Foundation Stage External Spirit Essence].
- Source: Unknown.
> Pending...
> REFINEMENT PROCESS COMPLETED.
- Host's current corporeal constitution has reached maximum saturation for [Foundation Stage External Spirit Essence] absorption.
- Absorption rate has exceeded metabolic conversion capabilities by 107.20%.
> WARNING: Continuing [Bone Tempering Art] practice under conditions of Spirit Essence Overabsorption will cause irreversible systemic damage. (Error Code: 2391)
- Error 2391 Detailed Description: Analysis indicates an 11.48% probability of failure in ascension process to [Perfect Grade Jade-Tier Bone Structure]. Secondary damage matrices predict severe meridian scarring and potential core instability.
- STATUS: Critical Saturation.
> Pending...
> Invoking automated contingency protocol.
...
> Halting [Bone Tempering Art] cultivation process in 5s...
> 4...
> 3...
...
> INITIATING: Expulsion Process for over-absorbed [Foundation Stage External Spirit Essence].
...
Swiftly following the system's chime, an involuntary convulsion seized Lordi's body. His spine arched against his will, and his jaw wrenched open as if pulled by unseen strings. From the depths of his being, a vast, voluminous cloud of Spirit Essence was expelled.
~ Ding! *System Notification Chime*
[AllFullOS: Version 1.0.0]
> Cultivation session status: COMPLETE
> Host control: RESTORED
> Thank you for using the All-Smart Full-Host Cultivation System™ (AllFullOS v1.0.0)
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Regaining the control over his form, Lordi executed his ritual of disdain with practiced ease, assigning a solitary star of derision.
[AllFullOS: Version 1.0.0]
> [★☆☆☆☆]
> Submitted. Thanks for your feedback.
Eyes fixed upon the lingering cloud of Spirit Essence. And not a single shred of intent to guide it back to the hovering Sword of Red Run stirred within him. To return it would be to feed the wolf. To weaken this treacherous blade was to bolster his own precarious safety. The equation was simple, brutal, and absolute: the weaker the devil sword became, the longer he would live.
Maintaining an impassive facade that belied the whirlwind of calculation within, Lordi cast a sidelong glance at the hovering sword.
"I require a change of locale for my recuperation. This grove has served its purpose. Proceed forthwith and deactivate the grand defensive array enveloping my Clan estate's exterior region."
The Blood River Sword faltered in its silent hum, its form quivering as if processing the command through a fog of ancient resentments. When it responded, its ethereal voice was laced with a reluctant hesitation. "This... Master, the Gloomwater Phantom Lily Array bifurcates into inner and outer formations. The Inner Formation serves primarily to cloak the mountain estate, hence its defenses are modest at best. Yet the Outer Formation constitutes the veritable guardian of the clan, impenetrable without the Clan Chief's token. To shatter it by brute force would demand prowess akin to the zenith of Foundation Stage..."
The Clan Chief's token?...
Lordi's initial impulse was to dispatch the sword in pursuit of this token, but prudence halted him mid-thought. The haunted estate's interior condition remained an enigma, fraught with unknown perils.
Given this Sword Born's glaring intellectual deficiencies, any encounter with figures like Donovan Valdez could unravel his lies through inadvertent revelations, spawning complications and troubles that might cascade into his own catastrophe.
A derisive snort, soft yet cutting, escaped Lordi.
"Just moments ago," He retorted, his voice steady and infused with a scalding, calculated disdain, "you proclaimed your intent to raze entire cities and feast upon the flesh and soul of humans and demonic beasts to carve a river of blood. A grand and gory ambition."
"Yet now, you falter at the mere prospect of cleaving through a solitary defensive array? How… disappointment." He let the insult hang in the petal-strewn air. "I am a Sword Path cultivator by destiny, and you are my Natal Soulbound Sword. Should you forsake the indomitable spirit of relentless advancement, what prospects remain for my future ascendance to the Great Dao?"