Suotuo City was a chaotic symphony of life, a stark contrast to the quiet pastoral rhythm of the Holy Spirit Village. The air was thick with the smell of street food, the dust of constant traffic, and the faint, ever-present thrum of spirit power. For a boy who had spent the last five years in relative seclusion, it should have been overwhelming. For Zhang Tian, it was simply a new board on which to place his pieces.
His new identity was a shield of convenience. The name 'Zhang Tian' was common enough to raise no eyebrows. His appearance, however, was his true disguise. The boy who had left Nuoding Academy was handsome but unremarkable. The young man who now walked the streets of Suotuo City was breathtaking. His long, deep blue hair flowed like liquid sapphire, and his eyes, the same profound shade, held a depth that seemed to draw people in. No one would ever connect this ethereal figure to the hardworking but talentless orphan from a backwater village.
He used a portion of his funds to purchase a modest two-story residence in a respectable but not overly wealthy district. It had a small shopfront on the ground floor and living quarters above, complete with a walled-off garden in the back—a crucial feature for his plans.
With a roof over his head, the next problem was income.
'I need a steady flow of money,' he mused, sitting in his empty shop. 'Not just for living expenses, but for information, materials, and bribes if necessary. Blacksmithing is out. I have the theoretical knowledge of metallurgy, but no practical skill. It would take too long to master.'
His mind drifted back to his previous life. What simple, high-demand products could be made with basic materials and a bit of chemical knowledge? The answer was obvious.
'Hygiene and vanity,' he concluded with a wry smile. 'Two of the most powerful economic drivers in any society, regardless of the world.'
He started with soap. The people of this world used crude lye concoctions that were harsh on the skin. Zhang Tian, using his knowledge of saponification, began experimenting with different oils and fats he could procure locally, adding crushed flower petals and essential oils for fragrance. The result was a hard, long-lasting bar of soap that lathered beautifully and left the skin feeling soft and clean.
Next came cosmetics. He created simple lotions and creams, emulsifying oils and water with natural binders. He developed lip balms from beeswax and tinted them with berry juices. These were products of a quality and refinement that were simply unavailable in the market.
He opened his shop, naming it "Azure Bloom Cosmetics," a subtle nod to his hair and his spirit's origins. He handcrafted a simple but elegant sign and displayed his wares on clean, polished wooden shelves.
For the first week, business was non-existent. People would walk by, glance at the strange, colorful bars and elegant little pots, and move on, wary of the unknown. Zhang Tian was patient.
The first customer was a portly woman, the wife of a local merchant, drawn in by sheer curiosity.
"Young man, what are you selling here?" she asked, her eyes scanning the shelves.
"Good day, Madam," Zhang Tian greeted her with a warm, professional smile that made the woman pause. "I sell personal care products. This, for example, is soap." He picked up a bar scented with lavender. "It cleanses without drying the skin. And this is a hand cream, to keep your hands soft."
The woman was skeptical but intrigued by his otherworldly good looks. "Soap? It looks too pretty to be soap. How much?"
He quoted a price that was higher than the common lye blocks but far from exorbitant. The woman, Madam Feng, decided to take a chance, purchasing a single bar.
She returned two days later, her face beaming.
"Young man! That soap is a miracle!" she declared loudly, attracting the attention of passersby. "My hands haven't felt this soft in years! And the smell! It's divine! I want five more bars! And tell me about this 'cream' again!"
Madam Feng became his most vocal advocate. Word of mouth began to spread. First, it was her friends, then their friends. The business model, reliant on a superior product and the novelty factor, began to work.
His customer base was almost exclusively female, a fact that brought its own set of complications.
"Oh, little Tian," a wealthy noblewoman purred one afternoon, trailing her fingers along a pot of rose-scented lotion. "You are just as exquisite as the things you sell."
Zhang Tian maintained his polite smile. "I'm glad you enjoy the product, Madam Yue."
"Enjoy it?" she laughed, a throaty, suggestive sound. "My dear, I enjoy coming here just to look at you. Such a handsome face shouldn't be cooped up in a shop all day. You know, my daughter is just about your age. I should introduce you two."
"You are too kind, Madam," he demurred smoothly. "I am quite busy with my work."
"Busy, busy," another woman chimed in, fanning herself dramatically. "A young man like you needs more than work. Or perhaps its just that daughter is too young and you don't prefer them young, perhaps you prefer someone more... mature? A woman who knows how to appreciate a man's talents." She winked at him.
Zhang Tian felt a familiar sense of helplessness bubble up, the same kind he felt when dealing with overly aggressive clients in his past life. He couldn't be rude—they were his source of income. All he could do was deflect with practiced, charming neutrality.
"Your patronage is all the appreciation I need," he'd say, wrapping their purchases with meticulous care.
They would leave with their goods, laughing and chattering, promising to return soon. And they always did, buying something new each time, using any excuse to exchange a few words with the beautiful, blue-haired shopkeeper. While their flirting was tiresome, their money was green. Business was booming.
Two months after arriving, with his business stable and a steady income secured, Zhang Tian turned his attention back to his primary goal. He paid a visit to the Suotuo City branch of the Spirit Hall, a far more imposing structure than the one in Nuoding.
At the registration desk, he was cool and efficient.
"I wish to apply for a permit to hunt my second spirit ring."
The clerk, a stern-faced woman, looked up. "Name?"
"Zhang Tian."
"Martial Spirit?"
"Blood Spirit Grass," he said without a flicker of hesitation.
The name was strange, but not unheard of for mutated spirits. The clerk nodded. "First Spirit Ring age?"
"One hundred years."
The clerk logged the information. 'Blood Spirit Grass, 100-year first ring.' A new file, a new history. The boy from Holy Spirit Village with the trash Blue Silver Grass and ten-year ring was officially gone, replaced by a new, slightly more promising individual. No one would ever connect the two. He received his permit and left.
The following day, he entered the Spirit Hunting Forest. This time, he was not a desperate boy with a spear. He was a predator.
He knew exactly what he was looking for. He bypassed powerful beasts, ignored valuable herbivorous creatures, and made his way to a dark, swampy section of the forest known for its toxic flora. It didn't take him long to find it.
Growing from the bloated, decaying corpse of a hundred-year-old bog crocodile was a flower of grotesque beauty. Its petals were the color of bruised flesh, and it pulsed with a faint, sickly light. A five-hundred-year-old Corpse-Puppet Flower.
It sensed his approach, and the crocodile corpse twitched, its jaw snapping weakly.
Zhang Tian didn't even bother with his spear. He pulled a single grenade from his pouch, lit the fuse, and tossed it. The resulting explosion was contained but devastating, tearing the flower and its puppet host to shreds.
A deep yellow ring of light, tinged with a faint violet hue, rose from the remains. He sat down and began the absorption. The energy was far more potent than his first ring, but his body, fortified by the Blue Silver Emperor's leg bone, handled it with ease. The excess power from the spirit bone surged, pushing him past the bottleneck. Level 21... Level 22.
He opened his eyes, a new stream of information flowing into his mind. His second spirit ability: Parasitic Spores.
He stood up and tested it immediately. He channeled his spirit power, and his Blood Silver Grass released a cloud of nearly invisible spores into the air. He willed one to land on a nearby tree. Instantly, he felt a connection. He could spend a sliver of spirit power and cause a new strand of Blood Silver Grass to erupt from the tree's bark. The range of his spirit had effectively become anywhere his spores could reach.
He then tried the second function. He let a spore drift onto a passing squirrel. He didn't activate it. Instead, he focused on the dormant connection and engaged his first ability, 'Devour.' A tiny, almost imperceptible trickle of life force and spirit power flowed from the squirrel into him. It was slow, controlled, and utterly undetectable. The squirrel merely paused to scratch itself before scampering on, completely unaware.
Most importantly, through that single, tiny spore, he could feel the squirrel's inner workings. Its beating heart, the flow of blood, the faint network of its nascent energy pathways.
A plan of breathtaking audacity formed in his mind. 'If I can sense the pathways of a squirrel... I can sense the pathways of a human. I can map their meridian circulation. I can steal their cultivation methods.'
'Mysterious Heaven Skill. Purple Demon Eyes. Controlling Crane Catching Dragon... Ghost Shadow Perplexing Track. All of Tang San's core techniques... I can learn them all without him ever knowing.'
He returned to the city, a ghost in the crowd. As he walked, he released his spores, letting them settle like dust on the people around him, on the potted plants in windowsills, on the weeds growing between the cobblestones. Each spore was a new tap, a new source for his cultivation.
The drain on humans was minuscule. A person might feel a little more tired at the end of the day, their cultivation might progress a fraction of a percent slower, but they would never notice. They would attribute it to a hard day's work or a poor night's sleep. Plants, however, were another matter. He could drain them more aggressively without any repercussions.
Back in his garden, he re-established the cocoon around Ah Yin's pot. Now, with his spores, he could maintain a constant, low-level corruption process without even needing to be present.
Eight months passed in a blur of productive activity.
His shop flourished. His days were spent dealing with flirtatious customers and managing his finances. But his nights, and every spare moment, were dedicated to power.
The constant, passive drain from hundreds of sources around the city fueled his growth at a terrifying rate. He focused the absorbed life energy on his spirit rings. His first ring, Devour, was his priority. He poured energy into it until its yellow light deepened, solidifying into a powerful 600-year ring, significantly boosting its absorption rate. He then focused on his second ring, Parasitic Spores, pushing it to the brink of the thousand-year level, a 900-year ring that vastly increased the range and potency of his spores.
He also spent countless hours in his garden, practicing. His control over his Blood Silver Grass became sublime. Since both his rings were from plant spirits, his abilities were less about raw power and more about meticulous control. He developed his own set of skills, techniques that required minimal spirit power expenditure but were devastatingly effective.
He created the 'Bloodvine Cage,' a technique that could instantly erupt from the ground to trap an opponent. He perfected the 'Thousand Crimson Needles,' where he would break down his vines into a swarm of hardened, sharp projectiles. For single-target attacks, he developed the 'Viper's Kiss Strike,' a single, incredibly fast and dense vine that struck like a snake. For defense, the 'Crimson Shield,' a rapidly woven barrier of thick vines. These weren't spirit abilities; they were applications of pure control, making him lethally efficient.
During this time, he became a repository of local gossip. His shop was a hub for the city's affluent women, and they loved to talk. He heard all about the new students at the infamous Shrek Academy and their exploits at the Rose Hotel.
"That Dai Mubai," Madam Feng once confided, her voice low. "The one with the tiger spirit. Throws money around like it's water, always with a new girl on his arm. A real playboy."
"And that fatty, Ma Hongjun!" added Madam Yue. "A nasty piece of work. I heard he tried to force himself on one of the serving girls. Only stopped because his friends dragged him away. Disgraceful! And him a disciple of that Spirit Saint, Flender."
"The pretty one, Oscar, is a heartbreaker," another woman sighed. "So romantic, he'll sweep you off your feet... and then you find out he's sweeping three other girls off their feet at the same time."
Zhang Tian would listen with polite interest, filing the information away. He knew he would cross paths with them eventually. For now, avoidance was the best strategy.
His cultivation, fueled by his parasitic network, had reached a staggering Level 27. Five levels in eight months. It was a speed that defied all logic, surpassing even a genius with Full Innate Spirit Power.
He invested his profits in knowledge. He learned that Dean Flender of Shrek Academy ran a side business selling various materials and information. Zhang Tian, through a third party, commissioned him to acquire books on spirit beasts and martial spirits. Flender, ever the businessman, borrowed the texts from his old friend, Yu Xiaogang.
The books were a treasure trove of raw data. Zhang Tian absorbed the information on hundreds of beasts, ignoring the pompous, often incorrect theories Yu Xiaogang had scribbled in the margins.
'He classifies plant spirits as tool spirits for support?' Zhang Tian scoffed internally while reading. 'What an idiot. Tell that to the Clear Sky Hammer or the Seven Kill Sword. He's an armchair theorist who has mistaken stolen data for true wisdom.'
With his new knowledge, enhanced rings, and a spirit power level he was confident in, he decided it was time. Time to finish what he started.
He went to his garden that night. The air was still. He stood before the pulsating cocoon of Blood Silver Grass that held Ah Yin. He took a deep breath. His cultivation had advanced, his control was absolute, and his spirit power was higher than ever before. Her weakened state, even with her immense vitality, had its limits.
'This time, there will be no resistance,' he thought.
He placed his hands on the cocoon and unleashed the full, corrupting might of his spirit power, amplified by the entire field of Blood Silver Grass and fueled by the energy of his parasitic network. He pushed his red, devouring energy into her.
He felt her resistance, the pure, golden light of the Blue Silver Emperor pushing back. But this time, it was different. It was a failing defense. The red tide of his power washed over her, and the golden light flickered, dimmed, and began to recede. He was succeeding.
He pushed harder, drawing on the power from his spores across the city to replenish his own expenditure, creating a relentless, unending assault. The blue of her leaves was almost entirely consumed by his crimson. Half of her form was now corrupted.
Then, something snapped.
A terrifying psychic shockwave erupted from the plant, slamming directly into his mind. It wasn't a physical attack; it was a pure, spiritual assault. His vision went white, and he felt his consciousness being torn from his body.
When his senses returned, he was no longer in his garden. He was floating in a vast, misty expanse. Below him was a valley that stretched to the horizon, a valley carpeted not with green, but with his blood-red grass. His Spiritual Sea. It had been forcibly opened by her attack.
And standing before him, radiating an aura of ancient majesty and cold fury, was a woman.
She was impossibly beautiful, a mature and voluptuous figure whose very form was a contradiction. The right side of her body was clad in a flowing gown of imperial blue, her hair on that side was the same shade, and her right eye was a deep, tranquil azure. The left side of her was clad in a dress of vibrant blood-red, her hair a startling crimson, and her left eye a burning, furious red. The embodiment of her half-corrupted state.
It was Ah Yin. Her consciousness, dormant for over a decade, had awakened.
Her gaze, split between tranquil fury and burning rage, locked onto him. Her voice echoed through his newly formed Spiritual Sea, shaking it to its foundations.
"Who are you?" she demanded, each word laced with the pressure of a hundred thousand years of existence. "And what have you done to me?"
Zhang Tian floated there, facing the enraged spirit of the Blue Silver Emperor. He felt the immense pressure, the ancient anger. But on his handsome face, there was no fear. Only a calm, calculating stillness. He had planned for this. He had been waiting for this conversation.