Faced with such a heavy price, Jiang Ruochén hesitated for only a heartbeat before deciding. "Senior, I will learn the Nine Dragons Divine Codex."
The old dragon clearly hadn't expected such speed. "So soon? No second thoughts? The codex is not only painful, it's perilous. If you fail—"
"Senior, I've thought it through. I must learn it. If living means crawling like an ant, I'd rather die." Jiang Ruochén's fists tightened, resolve blazing in his eyes.
In that brief moment, he'd remembered Jiang Li's humiliation, Consort Wan's hope, and Blue Star—his family. He had to change his body. He had to awaken the Dragon Soul.
Seeing his determination, the old dragon gave a small, approving nod. "Good."
He wasted no time. One translucent claw tapped the air, and a ray of light shot into Jiang Ruochén's mind.
Agony exploded behind Jiang Ruochén's eyes—then a supreme body-tempering art, the Nine Dragons Divine Codex, fused with his consciousness.
The pain ebbed. The method was his.
"You've integrated the technique. Now we begin. But you have no spiritual energy within you. I'll lend a little, though I am too weak to give much. Once the tempering starts, you must bear the pain and also open your meridians to draw in qi on your own. Only then will the tempering be complete."
As the dragon spoke, Jiang Ruochén reviewed what he'd learned. Body tempering meant using domineering spiritual energy to break one's meridians and bones again and again, then letting the body's recovery rebuild them stronger—like steel forged through endless fire and hammer blows. The more it was tempered, the harder the blade, the keener the edge.
Normally this took months and years. He had one night.
That was the codex's gift—a thousand days of tempering, compressed into a single night. And a thousand days of pain, compressed into a single night.
The price defied imagination. Jiang Ruochén's resolve did not waver.
He sat cross-legged. "I'm ready, Senior."
"Very well." The dragon pointed again. A surge of fierce qi, tinged with draconic might, speared into Jiang Ruochén's body.
A tremor wracked him. Pain howled through his limbs and bones as the violent qi rampaged—like hammers beating his flesh while invisible flames licked at his nerves.
"Aah—" The cry tore free, but he bit down and forced it back.
Before he could adjust, the old dragon's voice pressed him forward. "Jiang Ruochén, start the Nine Dragons Divine Codex. Increase the tempering."
"Yes, Senior." He drove the technique into motion.
At once, the qi grew even more savage, as if provoked by the codex's circulation. The pounding doubled, the burning multiplied tenfold.
Though no flames were visible, he felt as if he were being roasted at a thousand degrees, his body on the verge of melting.
Blood surged up his throat—he spat a dark mouthful and nearly collapsed into oblivion.
At the last instant, sheer will hauled him back. He steadied himself and kept the codex turning, enduring the forge.
The Nine Dragons Divine Codex spun and spun. The pain deepened, layer after layer.
Time slowed to a crawl. An hour felt like a century. He coughed blood again and again until his face went white and his breath turned threadbare. His spirit frayed; death hovered close.
"No. I will live. I will awaken." When his life-flame guttered to its dimmest, a fierce urge to survive snapped him clear.
From a short distance, the old dragon watched, scales tight with concern. If Jiang Ruochén failed now, he wouldn't just be crippled—he might die.
"Hold to your heart. Open the channels. If you endure this night, you will be reborn." The dragon's voice cut through the torment.
"Endure the night. Be reborn." The eight words rang in his ears, hardening his iron will still further.
Gritting his teeth, he followed every instruction, pushing the codex to roll madly while seeking to pierce and open each blocked meridian. It was savage. It was dangerous. It was hell.
But will held him up.
More than once he nearly failed—until the Blood Qi Powder that Consort Wan had traded a whipping to obtain proved crucial. It was the lowest grade of healing medicine, but to a man being tempered to the limit, even a single drop of help is an oasis in the desert.
With that tiny aid—and a will that would not break—Jiang Ruochén forced his way through the crucible.
"Senior… did I… pass?" When the pain finally receded, he lay on the ground, utterly spent, speech barely a whisper.
"You endured," said the dragon, circling above him, its ancient eyes now alight. "From this moment on, you are remade. The Jiang Ruochén of yesterday is gone."
Clearly, even the dragon was surprised.
A faint smile touched Jiang Ruochén's lips. "Then I can finally awaken the Dragon Soul…" His eyes slid shut and he sank into sleep. The drain on body and mind was total. Knowing he had survived, he let the darkness take him.
As he slept, vast life force poured from within, visible to the naked eye, racing through his frame and transforming it—a true rebirth.
"A Dragon Soul and a will like this… the boy will go far. When he awakens tomorrow, he will soar. The Nine Dragons Divine Codex—those four words will shake the heavens once more." Expectation flickered in the old dragon's ageless gaze.
Then its faded body turned and merged back into the God Burial Tower, vanishing from sight.