"I must absorb it at once," Kui said, his voice tight with an urgency Li Yu had never heard from him before. "The call from my bloodline… it is overwhelming. I must enter seclusion."
"The Koi's Sanctuary will provide you with the purest energy to aid your breakthrough," Li Yu said. "Take as long as you need."
With a final, deep, and profoundly grateful bow, Kui's form shimmered and then vanished as Li Yu drew his physical body into the sanctuary, placing him on a secluded island where he could refine the core in absolute peace.
Inside the sanctuary, Kui did not hesitate. He reverted to his true form, a colossal Behemoth Turtle-Snake. He opened his great, draconic serpent maw and swallowed the Star-Shelled core in a single gulp.
The moment the core entered his body, a wave of profound, ancient energy erupted from within him. His entire form was enveloped in a cocoon of earthy, golden light, shot through with the glittering motes of starlight from the core. Li Yu could feel the immense, transformative power at work. Kui's bloodline was being fundamentally rewritten, purified and elevated by the essence of a legendary ancestor.
A deep, resonant hum filled the sanctuary as Kui's aura began to swell with a terrifying power. The barrier to the 6th level of the Core Formation realm, a threshold that would take a normal expert centuries to cross, was shattered in a brilliant flash of golden light. His cultivation surged, stabilizing at his new level, but the change was far deeper than a simple increase in rank.
His spiritual energy felt heavier, more stable. His defensive presence had undergone a qualitative change, becoming something profound. It was a defense that embodied the dual nature of water—yielding and soft at one moment, allowing attacks to be harmlessly dispersed, then becoming as hard and unbreachable as abyssal ice the next.
From within the cocoon of light, a single, awestruck thought reached Li Yu. 'Wise Host… the power… it is magnificent! My bloodline… I can feel… something new. Ancient memories, dormant techniques… they are unlocking, but they are still a blur. It will take time to fully comprehend this gift.'
Li Yu sent back a feeling of calm reassurance. 'Take your time, Kui. Consolidate your foundation. I will see you when you emerge.'
The next morning, with one of his most trusted retainers in seclusion, Li Yu was summoned to the Clan Lord's main hall for a formal meeting. He went alone. When he arrived, he found only Mo Jian and Mo Ling waiting for him. The hall was empty, the usual guards dismissed, a sign of the immense trust and privacy being afforded to this meeting.
"Guest Elder Li," Mo Jian began, he and his daughter both offering a deep, formal bow. "There are no words in any tongue, righteous or demonic, that can truly express the depth of our clan's gratitude. You have saved my daughter, you have saved our Guardian, and you have saved the honor and future of my entire clan."
He looked at Li Yu, his expression one of profound, heartfelt sincerity. "Please, tell me. Is there anything in this world you desire? A rare beast, an ancient text, a specific treasure? If it is within my power to find it, I will try to bring it to you."
Li Yu looked at the sincere, grateful faces of the father and daughter. He gave a gentle smile and shook his head.
"Clan Lord Mo, your generosity is overwhelming," he said, his voice soft but firm. "But you truly do not need to give me anything. I came here to repay the honor you showed me during the Beast Tide. I stayed to help because you were willing to die to protect me, your guest. That is not a transaction that can be paid for with spirit stones. That is what friends do for one another."
He paused, letting the weight of the word 'friends' settle in the hall. "I have already gained much from this journey. I have gained a powerful new ally for my sect and my businesses. I have gained priceless knowledge from your library. And I have gained a new understanding of my own cultivation. That is more than enough reward for me."
Mo Jian stared at him, a complex storm of emotions in his eyes. He, a demonic clan lord who had lived his life in a world of threats, bargains, and transactions, was being offered something he had rarely, if ever, encountered: true, unconditional friendship. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, and he let out a deep, booming laugh of pure, unadulterated relief and joy.
"Friends," he said, the word feeling strange and wonderful on his tongue. "Yes. I like the sound of that." He turned to his daughter, who was looking at Li Yu with a new, shy respect, her usual fiery arrogance completely gone. "Then as a friend, Li Yu, know this. The Asura Demon Clan is now your ally. Not just in business, but in all things. If you ever have need of us, if you ever face an enemy you cannot handle alone, you need only send word. My clan will answer the call. That is my promise to you."
"And it is a promise I gratefully accept," Li Yu said with a sincere bow.
"Then you must stay for a few more days, at least!" Mo Jian insisted, his mood now celebratory. "As our friend! We will hold a true feast in your honor, not as a guest, but as one of our own!"
Li Yu considered this. Kui would need at least a few days to absorb the core, and more importantly, his own mind was buzzing with the revelations from the trial. He needed time to process, to explore the new path that had been opened to him.
"I would be honored to stay," Li Yu replied. "However, the recent events and the insights from the trial have left my mind in a state of turmoil. I feel I am on the verge of an epiphany. With your permission, I would like to enter a short period of secluded meditation to digest my thoughts. I will emerge in time for any celebration you wish to host."
"Of course! Of course!" Mo Jian said immediately, his expression one of complete understanding. A cultivator's epiphany was a sacred thing, not to be disturbed. "I will have the entire guest tower sealed. No one will be allowed within a thousand paces. Take all the time you need, my friend."
Later that day, Li Yu sat in the silent, utter solitude of his private cultivation chamber. His consciousness sank deep into his own being, into the profound, star-dusted darkness of his spiritual sea.
He floated in this inner world, observing his nascent soul. The crimson-gold leviathan, the very essence of his being, swam in slow, majestic circles. The trial had proven that this was not just a passive symbol of his power. It was an active, potent force, a shield that could shatter soul-based attacks.
'It is a part of my soul,' he mused, his thoughts clear and sharp in the silence of his mind. 'Therefore, it should be something I can control. Not like a limb, but like a thought, an extension of my will.'
He focused, trying to command the leviathan directly. 'Move left,' he willed. The nascent soul continued its slow, placid circles, utterly ignoring him. 'Attack,' he commanded, picturing it lashing out with its tail. The leviathan simply swam on, its movements as serene and inexorable as the turning of the cosmos.
It was not a puppet. It was not a tool. It was him, but a deeper, more primal part of him that did not respond to simple, conscious commands.
Frustrated, but not discouraged, he changed his approach. He stopped trying to force it and simply began to observe. He recalled every moment of his cultivation journey, every text he had read. What was the one thing that seemed to have a direct, profound connection to the leviathan?
And then, he remembered. The only time his nascent soul ever truly stirred was when he practiced the cultivation art he had created himself, the art that was the truest expression of his own dao: the «Leviathan Heart Sutra».
A jolt of electrifying insight shot through him. Of course. The «Leviathan Heart Sutra» was his own creation, a living technique born from his very soul. It was not just a method to cultivate energy; it was the language he was trying to figure out for his dao.
With a newfound sense of purpose, he began to circulate the Sutra, not in his physical body, but purely within his spiritual sea. He envisioned the ancient, flowing pathways of the art, the deep, primal movements that spoke of his unique understanding of oceanic power.
The effect was instantaneous.
The moment he began to mentally practice the «Leviathan Heart Sutra», the crimson-gold leviathan stirred. Its majestic, lazy circles tightened, its movements syncing perfectly with the flow of the cultivation art. It was not following his will; it was resonating with its own fundamental nature. It was like a musician hearing the first notes of a song written for their own soul.
He pushed further, focusing on a specific sequence in the Sutra, a part designed to condense and purify his spiritual energy. As he focused his intent through the lens of the technique, the nascent soul's powerful, primordial fish tail gave a slow, powerful swish, a movement that sent a deep, resonant tremor through his entire spiritual sea.
A wide, triumphant grin spread across Li Yu's face. This was it. This was the key. He couldn't command the nascent soul directly, but he could guide it. The «Leviathan Heart Sutra» was his language, the way he could communicate his intent to this deeper, more powerful part of himself.
He spent the next two days in a state of feverish, excited experimentation. He tried to adapt the principles of the Sutra, to move from simple resonance to active control. He tried to use the technique as a base to create a new art, a Soul-Art, that would allow him to project the leviathan's power outward.
But it was incredibly, profoundly difficult. The Sutra, as it was now, was a cultivation art. To adapt it into a combat art for the soul was like trying to rewrite the fundamental laws of his own cultivation. Every attempt to actively control the leviathan, to force it to move outside the established rhythm of the Sutra, was met with a sluggish, uncooperative resistance. He could influence it, he could coax it into following the familiar patterns, but he could not yet truly command it.
He finally pulled his consciousness back to the real world, a look of deep, thoughtful contemplation on his face. He had failed to create a new technique. But he had not failed in his goal. He had found the doorway to unlocking his nascent soul.
The nascent soul was not a weapon he could simply pick up and use. It was an instrument, a divine and complex one, and he had just learned the first, simple notes of its song. To master it, to compose his own music, would take time, effort, and a profound, new level of understanding. But he had time.
If he couldn't figure it now, he would figure it out later. He was walking on a path that those around him couldn't help him with.