Harvest
The simulated combat space dissolved, leaving Yao Xuan seated on his dorm room floor, the afterimages of countless phantom battles fading from his mind. A slow, steady breath left his lips, carrying with it a plume of faint, nine-colored light that shimmered before dissipating.
The assessment was sobering, yet filled him with fierce pride. The leap was monumental. His foundational strength had soared to fifty thousand kilograms, and every attribute—speed, resilience, spiritual density—had undergone a qualitative transformation. He could now genuinely stand before an ordinary Soul Saint without deploying his own ultimate techniques. Yet, the chasm between 'baseline' and a Soul Saint who unleashed their Martial Soul's ultimate form remained vast, a reminder that the path ahead was long.
The three new abilities resonated within him like newly tuned strings on an instrument of immense power.
The Ancestral Dragon Transformation of the Torso was a solidification, a foundational upgrade. When activated alongside his Dragon Claw, it would render his core nearly impervious, turning his body into a fortress. More crucially, it amplified the boost of his core Ancestral Dragon Transformation bloodline ability from double to triple. Raw power, honed and focused.
The Primordial Ancestral Dragon Domain was a seed—dormant, immense, and deeply connected to his bloodline's sovereignty. Even in its elementary state, its potential was staggering: a 150% amplification for himself, and a significant supportive boost for allies, especially those of draconic lineage. It was not just a personal tool, but the nascent aura of a leader, a sovereign. He could feel it sleeping in his core, waiting for the moment to awaken and declare his presence to the world.
Then, there was Ancestral Dragon Elemental Command. This was not mere control. It was authority. He could now sense the seven fundamental elemental laws—earth, water, fire, wind, light, darkness, space—as extensions of his own will, awaiting his decree. It was a power that mirrored Gu Yue's own affinity, a silent nod to their destined synergy. The higher laws of time and destiny remained veiled, locked behind thresholds of bloodline and cultivation he had yet to cross, a humbling and motivating reminder of the Ancestral Dragon's true zenith.
A profound equilibrium settled within him. Soul Power, stabilized at Rank 31. Spiritual Power, heightened by the breakthrough. Bloodline Qi, circulating through three perfected tiers. The triad was finally in harmony.
'The foundation is complete. Now, to build upon it.'
That weekend, at the East Sea City Forging Association, the air smelled of ozone, hot metal, and oil. Yao Xuan stood before Mu Chen in the master forger's cluttered office.
"Master, I have broken through to Soul Venerable. My spiritual power has also consolidated. I wish to formally attempt Spirit Forging."
Mu Chen set down the delicate spirit alloy component he was examining, his sharp eyes sweeping over Yao Xuan. He saw not just the confidence in his disciple's face, but a new, profound steadiness in his aura, like a deep mountain lake.
"Spirit Forging is a communion of life and metal," Mu Chen said, his voice grave. "It demands not just soul power, but a sacrifice of life force and spiritual essence. The bridge is your Martial Soul itself. Failure can scar the spirit. At the Soul Venerable rank… the risk is substantial." He remembered his old friend Mang Tian's decades of suffering all too well.
Yao Xuan met his master's concerned gaze squarely. "I understand the risks, Master. My foundations are secure. I would not attempt this if I were not confident in withstanding the feedback."
There was no arrogance in his statement, only the calm certainty of one who had measured his own depths. Mu Chen studied him for a long moment, then gave a single, sharp nod. "Very well. I will oversee the process. Remember, do not force it. The metal's will must be guided, not dominated."
In the forging chamber, the hearth roared to life. Yao Xuan selected a block of fine-grained Refined Gold, its surface gleaming dully in the firelight. He began the ritual he knew by heart: heating, testing, the first resonant strike.
Clang! Clang! CLANG!
His movements were a study in transcendent efficiency. The Hundred Refinements were achieved in seven thunderous, perfectly measured blows. The metal sang under his hammer, its impurities screaming out in sparks. He fell into the rhythm, each strike a word in an ancient dialogue between maker and material.
On the thirty-sixth hammer, a pure, meter-tall white light erupted from the metal.
No pause. No celebration. This was merely the prelude.
Yao Xuan's eyes sharpened. Behind him, three brilliant purple soul rings materialized, and the majestic form of the Ancestral Dragon Martial Soul coalesced in the air, its silent roar vibrating in the very atoms of the room. He channeled its power not as a blunt force, but as a conduit.
The next hammer fell differently. It carried not just physical impact, but a stream of pale, nine-colored soul power that seeped into the glowing gold. Yao Xuan's consciousness extended, touching the nascent spirit within the metal—a vague, longing awareness, a desire to be.
He became the bridge. His soul power flowed, a river of potential. His spiritual force wove a matrix of intent. His own vibrant life force, supercharged by the triple bloodline circulation, offered a spark.
It was an immense drain. He felt the pull, a siphon threatening to empty his reserves. But the third-tier bloodline circulation hummed, a powerful engine of regeneration. The
Minutes stretched. Sweat beaded on his brow, not from heat, but from profound concentration. Mu Chen watched, barely breathing, his experienced eyes noting the stable glow of the metal and the unwavering light in Yao Xuan's own.
Half an hour passed. The block of Refined Gold was no longer just metal. Its surface shimmered with a subtle, living light. Intricate, scale-like patterns emerged, and a low, harmonious hum resonated from it, synchronizing with the pulse of Yao Xuan's soul power. The air around it thickened, charged with a nascent consciousness.
He was not creating life. He was awakening what was already there, honoring the metal's latent potential with the gift of his own spirit.
With one final, gentle tap—more a caress than a strike—Yao Xuan stepped back. The hammer fell silent. Before him, the Spirit-Forged metal rested, pulsing softly with a warm, golden light, a perfect fusion of enduring matter and awakened spirit.
A deep fatigue washed over him, but it was clean, the satisfying exhaustion of a summit reached. He looked at Mu Chen.
The master forger's stern face was split by a wide, unrestrained grin of pure pride. He said nothing. He simply clasped Yao Xuan's shoulder, the firm grip conveying more than words ever could.
Yao Xuan's first thought, as the triumph settled, was not of the achievement itself, but of who he wished to share it with. He could already imagine explaining the process to Gu Yue, her violet eyes alight with intellectual curiosity and that quiet, deepening warmth that was for him alone. This step brought him closer—not just to becoming a master forger, but to forging a future worthy of their shared legacy.