Silence reclaimed the cavern. The ethereal light from the crystal veins seemed to dim, the grand murals retreating into shadow, their epic tales once again unseen. Su Yang stood alone, but the emptiness was now filled with a universe of potential. The ghost of his master's presence was gone, but his legacy remained, burning brightly in the core of Su Yang's being.
As the final echoes of the Emperor's voice faded, a soft, multi-hued glow began to emanate from the base of the crystalline coffin. The very air above the jade dais shimmered, and one by one, treasures materialized, floating in the still air as if presented by an invisible hand. This was the inheritance of a peak Immortal King, a hoard that could incite wars across galaxies.
Su Yang's breath caught in his throat. There were items whose mere presence warped the space around them: a jagged black dagger that seemed to drink the light, a set of nine flags that hummed with the power to bind stars, an ornate mirror that showed not his reflection, but the swirling chaos of a nascent universe. Their auras were so immense, so terrifyingly potent, that Su Yang instinctively knew he could not even look at them directly for long without his nascent spirit fracturing. They were tools of cosmic power, meant for a hand that could command the laws of reality, not for a mortal who had yet to even condense his first wisp of Qi. They were a promise of a distant future, a taunting glimpse of power utterly beyond his current grasp.
But beside these impossible artifacts were other treasures. Their auras were subdued, manageable, yet to any cultivator of the mortal realms, they would be objects of world-shattering desire.
The most prominent was a simple, darkwood ring, its surface etched with impossibly fine lines that resembled a celestial map. As Su Yang focused on it, knowledge from his inherited memories surfaced: a **Spatial Ring**. Not just any storage ring, but one crafted by his master eons ago by refining the core of a collapsing secret realm. Its interior space was not a mere void but a stable, pocket dimension vast enough to contain a mountain range.
Next to it floated piles of crystalline stones that glowed with an inner light. They pulsed with a pure, dense energy that made the air around them vibrate. **Spirit Stones**. To the Immortal King Luo Tian, these were mere pebbles, the lowest denomination of currency, useless for his level of cultivation. But to Su Yang, and to any cultivator on the path, they were priceless. Each one contained enough pure, accessible Qi to accelerate cultivation a hundredfold in this barren world.
There were stacks of ancient manuals, their pages forged from immortal jade and inscribed with glowing characters that shifted and danced. Titles flashed in his mind: *The Celestial Blacksmith's Canon*, *The Nine-Dragon Pill Furnace Technique*, *The Grand Array of Ten Thousand Shattered Heavens*. They contained knowledge on forging divine weapons, concocting peerless pills, and constructing formation arrays that could protect a nation or trap a god.
And there were the herbs and pills themselves. They were sealed in jade bottles and crystal cases, their mere presence filling the cavern with a symphony of fragrant and medicinal aromas. A single petal from one of those herbs, a single whiff of one of those pills, could extend a mortal's life by centuries or instantly heal any wound. Their value was incalculable; they could not be exchanged for the entire monetary wealth of Earth, for there was nothing on that entire planet that could compare.
Overwhelmed, Su Yang knew he had to be pragmatic. The galaxy-destroying artifacts were to be left untouched, sealed away until he was worthy. The rest, however, was his to use.
Following the instinctual knowledge imparted to him, he reached for the Spatial Ring. He pricked his finger, letting a drop of his blood fall onto the darkwood surface. The ring glowed, absorbing the blood, and a profound connection snapped into place between the artifact and his mind. He could feel the immense space within it, empty and waiting.
With a thought, he directed the ring. The piles of Spirit Stones vanished. The stacks of manuals, the cases of herbs and pills, all disappeared, stored safely within the ring's dimensional pocket. Finally, with the deepest reverence, he turned to the Primordial Coffin. He knew he could not leave his master's resting place here. He would find a place worthy of an Immortal King, a sacred ground where he could be protected and honored. And the hope—the distant, seemingly impossible dream—of one day finding a way to revive him took root in his heart. With a gentle mental command, the magnificent crystal coffin, with its slumbering occupant, too was stored within the ring.
He slipped the ring onto his right ring finger. It felt cool against his skin, a constant, weighty reminder of the responsibility he now carried.
For the next seven days, Su Yang did not leave the cavern. He sat cross-legged on the cold stone, the Spatial Ring on his finger, and delved into the ocean of knowledge in his mind. He ignored the advanced techniques for now, focusing solely on the foundational scripture of the Twin Dao Sect: the **Harmonic Convergence Art**.
He started with the "Yang" aspect, as his master had instructed. He visualized drawing in the warm, active, generative energy of the sun, pulling it from the very rock around him, meager as it was in this deep place. He guided this energy through specific meridians, following circuits that felt both alien and instinctively correct. His body, tempered by hardship but still mortal, began to change. A faint warmth spread from his dantian outwards. Impurities, the accumulated filth of a mundane life, began to be pushed to the surface of his skin in a thin, grey film.
He was forging his body from the inside out. By the end of the seventh day, he had broken through five minor stages of the **Body Forging Realm**. His senses were sharper. The darkness of the cavern was no longer absolute; he could see the subtle shifts in the air currents. His body felt lighter, stronger, his muscles woven with a newfound resilience.
Following the instructions from the alchemy manuals in his ring, he selected a few low-level spirit herbs and a cauldron he found among the treasures. Using a sliver of his will, he ignited a simple flame array and prepared a medicinal bath. The water boiled, turning a vibrant, emerald green and releasing a scent that revitalized his very cells.
He submerged himself in the scalding liquid. It was agony and ecstasy. The potent medicine seared into his pores, scouring his body of deeper impurities, mending micro-tears in his muscles, and further tempering his bones. He gritted his teeth, circulating the Harmonic Convergence Art, using the pain as a whetstone for his will.
A month passed in a cycle of meditation, brutal training, and medicinal baths. He practiced unarmed forms, his movements becoming fluid and powerful, each strike carrying a faint whistle through the air. His body was now a weapon, hardened far beyond mortal limits.
One evening, as he sat in deep meditation, a venomous cave viper, drawn by the warmth of his body, struck at his exposed neck. Its fangs, which could paralyze a bull, hit his skin and snapped. They did not even leave a mark. Su Yang's eyes opened, and he looked at the confused serpent with a dispassionate gaze before shooing it away. His skin was now like toughened leather layered over steel.
His dantian, once empty, now swirled with a palpable energy. He had gathered and condensed Qi, breaking through to the fourth stage of the **Qi Condensation Realm**. Power thrummed within him, a constant, thrilling current.
It was time to learn to wield it. He turned his attention to an offensive technique from the inheritance: the **Phoenix and Dragon Sword Art**. It was a technique designed for a couple practicing the Dual Dao, their energies intertwining to create a devastating synergy. Though he practiced alone, the foundational movements were his to learn.
He chose a sword from the collection—a simple, sleek silver blade that hummed pleasantly in his grip, a low-level spirit weapon. For days, he practiced the forms: the sweeping, graceful arcs of the Phoenix, the direct, overpowering thrusts of the Dragon. He learned to channel his Qi through the blade, making it sing and glow with a soft, silver light.
As his mastery over the weapon grew, so did his control over his Qi. He discovered he could will the sword to shrink, condensing its form until it became the size of a fine needle. He threaded a thin, unbreakable cord from a spirit beast's tendon through it and tied it around his neck. The needle-sized sword rested against his chest, a hidden weapon and a token of his new path.
He was ready. The cavern had been his womb, a place of rebirth. Now, it was time to be born into the world once more.
He took a final look around the immense, empty cavern that had been his home for over a month. He bowed deeply, a final sign of respect to the place where his destiny had changed.
Then, the Yin-Yang Envoy turned and began the long journey back, not as a victim, but as a predator. The world of steel and shadows awaited, unaware that a storm was coming.