Meanwhile, Zhu Zhuqing trained in the specially constructed chamber beneath the estate – a place designed to cycle between the blistering heat of a volcano's heart, the biting cold of a glacier, and the disorienting void of absolute darkness. She stood unmoving in the center, a silhouette against the shifting extremes.
Around her, shadows danced. Not formless darkness, but tangible extensions of her will. "Frozen Shadow Claw," she whispered. The air chilled rapidly, and claws forged from black ice shot from the darkness, leaving trails of frost on the obsidian walls.
Then, the chamber flared with heat. "Infernal Dance." She spun, a whirlwind of motion, tendrils of black fire lashing out, leaving scorch marks where the ice had just been.
Finally, darkness absolute. "Abyssal Veil." A sphere of pure, sightless black expanded from her, swallowing the training dummy whole. Inside the veil, unseen strikes landed with muffled thuds.
Her mastery over her three attributes – ice, fire, and darkness – was becoming seamless, a terrifyingly versatile arsenal woven together by her innate speed and killer instinct.
Zhang Tian himself focused on consolidating his cultivation and going a step forward. He was a Spirit King now, a different tier of existence. He spent hours practicing his new fifth spirit ability, the Blood Thunder Hell Cage. He learned to weave the crimson, lightning-infused vines not just from the ground, but from the air itself, creating inescapable prisons that crackled with destructive energy.
The enhancement of the Thunder Hell Left Leg Bone was another challenge. He had to constantly attract the lightning from the heavens and temper his body and enhance the age of his Left Lege Spirit Bone for three days, the process a fire that burned through his nerves, reshaping his very connection to the world. When he ended this training, his movements held a new, electric quality, his steps leaving faint, crackling afterimages, his reflexes honed to a point where thought and action were almost simultaneous.
Qian Renxue remained a constant, welcome presence. Her weekly visits stretched into multi-day stays, the pretense of "private tea" long abandoned. She integrated herself into their routine, joining their training sessions with an eagerness that surprised even herself.
Her spars with Zhu Zhuqing were a breathtaking spectacle – the clash of holy light and abyssal shadow, two peerless beauties testing the limits of their power. Her strategic discussions with Zhang Tian were a meeting of minds, two brilliant intellects dissecting the world's complexities. Her own cultivation soared, freed from the shackles of her disguise, reaching the cusp of Level 63.
Ah Yin, meanwhile, played her dual role with masterful grace. By day, she was the quiet, efficient housekeeper, managing the estate, tending the gardens. But by night, her consciousness roamed. Connected to the vast, silent network of Blood Silver Grass, she oversaw the growth of their hidden empire, blade by patient blade.
Zhang Tian had shared his encounter with the Myriad Demon King with Ning Fengzhi, omitting the sensitive details about the Silver Dragon King but emphasizing the unexpected emergence of Fierce Beasts that held the power of more than two hundred thousand year old spirit beasts. The news had deeply concerned the Sect Master. Security around the Seven Treasure Glaze Tile Sect and Zhang Tian's estate had quietly, significantly increased. The threat was distant, nebulous, but undeniably real.
Despite this looming shadow, the atmosphere within Zhang Tian's inner circle was one of intense focus. They were a unit, bound by love, loyalty, and a shared, driving ambition. They were preparing not just for a tournament, but for the larger, more dangerous games that lay ahead.
The month passed in a blur of sweat, spirit power, and stolen moments of passion. The preliminary rounds in Heaven Dou City concluded. The final rankings were announced. Shrek Academy, despite their early stumble, had clawed their way back to qualify for the promotion stage.
The time for the true finals in Spirit City was fast approaching. The calm before the storm was almost over.
With the immediate demands of training slightly eased, Zhang Tian's restless mind turned back to his grand obsession: the project that could rewrite the very laws of cultivation. Artificial spirit rings. Artificial spirit bones.
He retreated to his vast, subterranean laboratory, a place where engineering marvels met alchemical wonders. Spirit tools for public use were progressing smoothly under the sect's craftsmen, flooding the market and subtly shifting the technological landscape of the empire. But his own passion now lay in this far greater challenge, this attempt to replicate the gifts of the world itself.
He sought out Ah Yin, not in the garden, but in the quiet intimacy of his lab. She stood beside him, her crimson eyes scanning his complex diagrams, her presence a source of both inspiration and invaluable insight.
"Tell me again, my Empress," he murmured, tracing a complex array etched onto a crystal shard. "When you first transformed, when your rings manifested… what did it feel like?"
Ah Yin closed her eyes, her mind drifting back across a hundred thousand years. "It wasn't a feeling of choice, my love," she explained, her voice soft. "It was… instinctual. Like breathing. My spirit origin, the core of my being as the Blue Silver Empress, it simply… condensed the power around me. The power of the world flowed into me, and the rings formed. I did not hunt. I did not choose. It just… happened."
She touched the diagrams. "You speak of spirit bones being concentrations of origin power, linked to strong emotions or specific body parts. That feels… right. When a beast falls with great regret, or channels immense power into a limb before death… sometimes, a fragment of its origin remains, solidified."
"So the origin is the key," Zhang Tian mused, his fingers drumming on the workbench. "Not just the spirit power, but the fundamental essence of the spirit itself."
He began to formulate his core hypothesis aloud, his voice filled with a feverish, creative energy. "If a spirit beast's origin can naturally condense rings and bones by drawing on the world's energy, perhaps a human's spirit origin can be stimulated to do the same. We just need… the right stimulus. The right catalyst."
"A catalyst?" Ah Yin questioned gently. "Like an immortal herb?"
"More than that," Zhang Tian replied, his eyes gleaming. "Something artificial. Something controllable. A spirit tool. A device designed not just to channel energy, but to resonate with a specific Martial Spirit's frequency. A mold, perhaps, or a focusing lens, providing the framework and the initial spark for the spirit origin to begin the condensation process."
He grabbed a fresh scroll and began sketching furiously – intricate arrays like spiderwebs, resonating chambers shaped like tuning forks, lenses carved from energy-focusing crystals. He muttered to himself, lost in the storm of creation.
"Materials… metals attuned to specific elements… lightning-infused silver for thunder spirits, sunstone for fire… perhaps infused with the diluted essence of immortal herbs to provide the raw energy… the complexity… it's staggering…"
He paused, a frown creasing his brow. "But… it can't be universal. A tool designed for your Blood Silver Grass would be useless, maybe even harmful, for a White Tiger or a Clear Sky Hammer. Each spirit origin vibrates at a unique frequency. It would require… different designs. Thousands of them. One for every major spirit type. Tool, Beast, Plant, elemental variants…"
The sheer scale of the undertaking was daunting. But it was the next realization that truly hit him like a physical blow.
"And testing…" he whispered, the word hanging heavy in the sterile air of the lab. "Theoretical designs are useless without practical application. Without seeing how a living spirit origin reacts." He looked at Ah Yin, his expression grim. "I need… test subjects. Human Spirit Masters. Various types. Various ranks."
Ah Yin's expression grew somber. She understood the grim necessity. Progress often came at a terrible price.
He pulled out his pager and sent a coded, encrypted message to his father-in-law, outlining the dilemma.
Ning Fengzhi's reply came back almost instantly. It was swift, pragmatic, and utterly ruthless.
'Criminals exist for a reason, my son. The empire's dungeons are full of heinous individuals whose lives are forfeit. Their final act can be one of service... to progress. Send me your requirements. I will make the arrangements.'
Zhang Tian read the message, a cold knot forming in his stomach. He had known this was the likely path, the only path. But the reality of it, the cold, clinical decision to use living beings as disposable lab rats… it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He took a deep breath. This was necessary. For the future he envisioned, for a world free from the endless cycle of slaughter, sacrifices had to be made.
He sent back his requirements: a list of spirit types, ranks, and the necessary security protocols.
His research into artificial spirit rings was about to enter a new, darker, and far more practical phase.
Hours later, the first convoy arrived. Not at the main estate, but at a secret, heavily guarded research facility established deep beneath it, a place known only to Zhang Tian, Ah Yin, and Ning Fengzhi.
The "test subjects" were brought in – a dozen condemned criminals, their faces hardened, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and defiance. They were Spirit Elders, Spirit Ancestors, their spirits a random assortment of common types – a Grey Wolf, a Stone Axe, a Simple Vine.
The lab was a stark, sterile place, a sharp contrast to the vibrant life above ground. Rows of containment chambers lined the walls, each equipped with intricate monitoring devices and powerful spirit power suppressors. The air hummed with a low, controlled energy.
Zhang Tian began his experiments. He started with the simplest prototypes, devices designed for basic energy infusion, for simple resonance frequency manipulation. He worked with a detached, clinical focus, his mind a cold engine of logic and observation.
The results were… disastrous.
He tried infusing pure spirit power into a subject with a Grey Wolf spirit. The man screamed, his body convulsing violently as his own spirit power went into a chaotic, self-destructive overload. He survived, but his spirit was permanently damaged.
He tried using a simple resonance frequency on a subject with a Stone Axe spirit. Nothing happened. The tool hummed, the subject felt a slight tingle, but his spirit origin remained dormant, unresponsive.
He tried a more complex energy matrix on a subject with a Water Arrow spirit. The subject's arm simply… exploded. A messy, gruesome failure that required Ah Yin's immediate, and discreet, intervention to clean up.
"This isn't working," Zhang Tian muttered, running a frustrated hand through his hair. He stared at the flickering readings on his monitoring devices. "Simply stimulating the spirit power isn't enough. It's like trying to make a river flow faster by just pushing the water. I need to reshape the riverbed itself. I need to target the origin."
But the spirit origin, the very soul of the Martial Spirit, was a thing of profound, almost untouchable mystery. To interact with it, to influence it without destroying it… it required a level of control, of understanding, that was almost godlike.
And then, he had an idea. His own spirit. The Blood Silver Emperor. Its most fundamental ability: Devour. It didn't just consume spirit power; it touched the origin. It could feel its resonance, its structure.
He began incorporating his own Blood Silver energy into the process. He redesigned his catalyst tool, creating a resonating matrix not just of metal and crystal, but of woven, living Blood Silver Grass, infused with his own spirit power. He tailored the matrix specifically for a simple plant-type spirit, choosing the condemned criminal with the basic Vine spirit as his next subject.
The process was delicate. Dangerous. He strapped the man into the containment chamber. He placed the new, crimson-glowing catalyst tool against the subject's chest. He closed his eyes and reached out with his own spirit, his Devour ability a gentle, probing tendril that touched the man's dormant spirit origin.
He activated the tool. It hummed, sending a low, resonant frequency into the subject's body. And then, Zhang Tian pushed. Not with raw power, but with a gentle, guiding influence, using his own connection to the origin to coax it, to nudge it, to provide it with the framework it needed. He fed it energy, not just from the tool, but from the ambient Heaven and Earth energy, drawing it in, concentrating it.
For hours, he maintained the delicate balance, his own spirit power draining rapidly, his forehead beaded with sweat. The subject groaned, his body trembling under the strain.
And then, something happened.
A faint, unstable ring of light began to form around the subject's spirit, deep within his spiritual sea. It flickered, threatened to dissipate, but Zhang Tian held it, pouring more energy, more will, into the process.
It solidified. It stabilized.
It was weak. It was flawed. It was barely visible. A ten-year white ring. Created from nothing.
Zhang Tian collapsed back into his chair, exhausted but exhilarated. The ring was unstable. It vanished after only a few minutes, the subject's spirit origin too weak, the energy provided too impure. But it didn't matter.
He had done it. He had proven the principle was possible.
He looked at the unconscious subject, then at his own hands. A fierce, determined fire burned in his eyes. He just needed refinement. He needed more power. More control. More understanding. More energy. Perhaps… perhaps infusing the energy directly from high-level spirit beasts? Or even… immortal herbs?
He then shifted his focus to spirit bones. This proved to be an even greater challenge. Condensing a temporary ring was one thing; forcing the spirit origin to manifest a permanent, physical object within the body, to integrate it with the user's very skeleton… it was an order of magnitude more complex. His initial attempts yielded nothing but agonizing pain for the subjects, their bodies rejecting the forced condensation.
He realized this project would not be completed overnight. It would take years, perhaps decades, of research, experimentation, and refinement. The path was long, dark, and ethically questionable.
But the first, crucial step had been taken. The dream of a world without slaughter, a future built on creation instead of destruction, was no longer just a dream.
Zhang Tian finally emerged from his lab days later, exhausted but exhilarated. He walked out into the setting sun, his mind filled with visions of a future he would build with his own hands. The potential reward – godhood built on creation, not destruction – fueled his resolve. The path ahead was clear.