Alongside Jing Qian's sudden appearance came two streaks of pure white threads, shooting forth like arrows.
The power of the Weaver of Souls burst forth, the silken cords entwining around the stocky cultivator's neck, tightening mercilessly.
Bending his body into a crouch, Jing Qian coiled himself like a drawn bow. Planting his feet firmly against the man's spine, he pushed with all his strength, his whole frame taut with violent power.
"Up!"
A sharp cry rang out.
Neck snapped, head flew, blood sprayed into the sky!
Channeling what little spiritual power he had left evenly through his bones and muscles, Jing Qian unleashed a surge of raw strength. With sheer brute force, he pulled on the threads, sawing the man's head clean off!
At that moment, he was still braced against the enemy's back, his body stretched taut, forming a grotesque right angle with the headless corpse.
And before the crimson rain could even fall, he slipped once more into the void, vanishing without a trace!
The might of the Sumeru Life Pattern carried him back to the Safe Zone.
This little Life Pattern combo, his improvised sequence of abilities, was something he had rehearsed countless times in his mind.
Now that he had finally unleashed it, the results were just as he'd anticipated: swift and devastating.
Since bringing these two ghostly guardians into the Fate Stele Space, this was the very first time he had truly, completely slain an enemy!
From the corpse of the stocky cultivator, a massive plume of clear, pristine essence surged forth, billowing like smoke, rushing directly into him.
He accepted his spoils of victory calmly, while silence once again fell across the space.
...
"Life Essence: 2.45!"
"Life Essence: 2.73!"
The rapid surge of Life Essence sent Jing Qian soaring into a euphoric high, his whole body trembling with exhilaration.
At the same time, in the real world, the hollow shell of his physical body was suddenly filled with innate vital energy, transformed from the newly gained Life Essence.
This energy sprang forth from his Niwan Palace, cascading downward until it filled every corner of his small frame in an instant.
Bathed in this pure and vibrant energy, all his exhaustion, pain, and overdrawn strength rapidly healed.
The flow of qi was so abundant that it overflowed from his body entirely.
And with his grandmother Qingzhuzi no longer present to absorb the excess for him, the surplus energy simply dispersed into the surrounding sea and sky, wasted, at least in part.
...
Inside the space, the stocky cultivator who had just been slain slowly climbed back to his feet. He picked up his severed head from the ground, set it back onto his neck, and revived once more.
However, having died once, his aura was greatly diminished even after revival. His strength was vastly reduced.
For Jing Qian, this meant the next kill would be far easier.
Within the Fate Stele Space, the very first time he slew a newly captured soul was always the most difficult. But after that, each successive death would only strip away more power, turning the soul into nothing more than a treasure vault, gradually opening itself up for him to plunder.
At this moment, Jing Qian was immersed in a new flood of memories, absorbing fresh knowledge.
This time, what the stocky cultivator contributed was none other than the livelihood skill he had honed his whole life!
In these memories, the younger version of the stocky cultivator stood before a massive furnace with a few companions, listening to the teachings of a burly, black-skinned monk:
"You were lucky to step into the path of cultivation, to fix your destiny. It's as if the smoke from your ancestors' graves drifted wrong and blessed you by mistake.
But don't let that fool you into strutting around like some beggar who suddenly struck it rich.
Since you've entered the gates of She Dizang Temple and been granted the opportunity of the Flame of Destiny, if you cannot contribute, you have no right to enjoy the protection and resources of this temple."
The monk's voice was firm and heavy, leaving each listener with a sense of awe.
"The road of cultivation is long and arduous. Without iron will, you'll achieve nothing. This Temple does not raise idlers; you must prove your worth through action.
Our path values wealth, companions, methods, and land, with wealth foremost. You poor-born brats, if you truly want to stand on your own, you must master a trade.
Engraving runes or brewing medicines, those are delicate crafts with costly entry requirements, impossible for the likes of you.
But forging weapons? You can attempt by hammering mundane iron blades. With effort and sweat, you may one day achieve results. It is the most suitable path for coarse folk like you.
From today onward, you will learn smithing from me. If you excel, not only will you earn gold rewards, but the Temple itself may even bestow upon you secret methods for cultivating a Life Pattern!"
With that, the black monk pulled a glowing-hot ingot from the furnace, lifted his massive hammer, and began striking it with ringing blows that showered sparks across the ground.
From that day forward, the stocky cultivator formally embarked upon the path of forging, following behind the monk each day, hammering, grinding, polishing.
Though his talent was mediocre and his grasp of the art clumsy, his sheer persistence eventually bore fruit.
Even after leaving the temple, smithing became his foundation, his means of survival, and of gathering resources. It benefited him for life.
Now, Jing Qian inherited all of these painstakingly accumulated experiences, the lifetime's worth of hammer strikes, techniques, and insights.
In an instant, he had become a seasoned blacksmith, despite never having once lifted a forging hammer before.
Once again, the miraculous power of the Fate Stele Space revealed itself!
"Engraving runes, medicinal alchemy, weapon forging, tailoring, and skin-crafting… so these are the life professions unique to cultivators in this world?" Jing Qian muttered to himself, carefully savoring the new knowledge.
"The Realm of a Hundred Refinements? Hm, now that's interesting."
The more he digested these memories, the more three-dimensional his understanding of this cultivation system became.
No complete cultivation system could exist without efficient resource utilization. The refinement and processing of rare spiritual materials through Life Essence and Life Patterns formed a crucial pillar of this world's path of cultivation.
Over time, professional disciplines had arisen from this need, each growing ever deeper through generations of inheritance.
The four main professions, Engraving Runes, Alchemy, Weapon Forging, and Tailoring/Skin-Crafting, were the most mainstream disciplines in this world.
Nearly every cultivator would, at some point in their path, attempt to study at least one of these professions, to process their gains and earn further resources.
But those who truly achieved mastery were exceedingly rare.
The few who became outstanding in their field, reaching a unique threshold of skill, would be granted the title of Hundred Refinements.
With that title, even a mere Fatebinding cultivator's status would skyrocket, rivaling even that of the mighty Dragon Elephant realm.
For this stocky cultivator, his lifelong ambition was to one day become a Master of the Hundred Refinements.
In his heart, that dream was more desirable even than advancing to the Dragon Elephant Realm or condensing a Manifestation.