"Ugh… my head… is pounding like a gong in a tin shed! Seriously, could this body be any weaker?"
Wang Ling groaned, his voice a pathetic rasp that barely carried over the wind whistling through the desolate battlefield. He clutched at his chest, wincing at the phantom pain of betrayal. "To think, that little ingrate Li Wei actually shanked me for the Void Dragon Sutra…"
A moment later, a slow grin reached his face. "Good thing I detonated the scroll and myself before that ungrateful whelp could get his grubby paws on it!"
Though there was a slight pang of annoyance thinking of how much energy he spent mastering that technique.
He paused with an even more maniacal grin. "I bet he's scattered into so many pieces he might actually qualify as modern art now!"
Zhuo Fang was the Demon Sovereign, this could never be the end!
His gaze swept over the battlefield, taking in the gruesome sight of twenty-odd cultivators sprawled on the ground, their faces frozen in expressions of terror. "Seriously what happened here?"
Based on the memories flooding his mind, the previous owner of this body – a spineless waste of space named Wang Ling – was jumped by a demonic cultivator. And killed! Despite having a retinue of bodyguards that could make a small cit tremble!
"What a chump," Wang Ling snorted, spitting a glob of blood-tinged saliva onto the ground. "I would've crushed that demon under my heel!" But as it turns out, that was wishful thinking!
He pauses to smirk before declaring "But do not fret mere mortals for it is I the great Zhuo Fang in this body, and I the Great Zhuo Fang will ascend to become a God amongst men and woman."
He pauses once more to observe the battlefield. "Though I am in the body of Wang Ling...Bwahahaha."
However!
The great Zhuo Fang! Stopped mid way as he fell to his knee Cough Cough.
He spat out more blood, as he cursed the heavens. This new body was weaker then he thought.
Wang Ling frowned, his brow furrowing in concentration. This new vessel was frustratingly weak, barely at the 2nd stage of Qi Refinement. A pathetic starting point for a Demonic Sovereign! But all was not lost.
"If I can just get the Void Dragon Sutra's core established," he muttered, "the rate at which I absorb Qi from the atmosphere will increase exponentially!"
With newfound determination, Wang Ling sat cross-legged on the blood-soaked ground and began to circulate the Void Dragon Sutra. The ancient technique, once so effortless, now felt clumsy and awkward, like trying to play a grand piano with boxing gloves on.
"Argh! Damn this body!"
The pain was excruciating. His meridians felt like they were being ripped apart, his dantian churned like a stormy sea. Forming the Void Dragon Core was simply too much for a body with such a low level of cultivation.
He had to improvise.
Wang Ling's eyes snapped open, a ruthless glint flickering in their depths. He would use other methods to achieve his goal. He may have to resort to using his past techniques.
With a chilling surge of will, he reached out, drawing upon the residual energy emanating from the fallen cultivators around him. He carefully, gently, began to siphon off small amount of energy. A little strength to make his new body work, and little speed so he wouldn't be as pathetic.
As Wang Ling absorbed the energies, his body convulsed, veins pulsing with dark energy. His face contorted in agony, a silent scream trapped in his throat.
His current power might be weaker then his old one, but so what?! He was Wang Ling! Nothing could stop him!
Focusing all his will, he forced the chaotic energies to coalesce, visualizing the swirling form of the Void Dragon Core. The ground trembled slightly beneath him, the air crackling with suppressed power.
And then, it was done.
Despite his coughing up a lot of blood, and damn this body, he had created the Void Dragon Core. He was the best. Zhuo Fang stood once more!