The Hidden Lotus Pavilion sat on the edge of a black-water pond, its wooden structure silvered by the moonlight. In the memories of the original Shen Yuan, this place was a tomb—a secluded corner where the "waste" was hidden away to avoid embarrassing the clan. To the current Shen Yuan, it was a sanctuary.
He dismissed the trembling servants who had delivered the requested chests of spirit stones. As the heavy doors groaned shut, Shen Yuan's composure didn't break, but his body finally registered the toll of the day.
'This mortal shell is still too frail,' he mused, sitting cross-legged on a meditation mat. 'The Dragon's Source I formed is like a sun trapped in a paper lantern. If I don't temper the vessel, the light will burn the paper.'
He opened the wooden chests. Thousands of Spirit Stones glinted with a faint, milky light. To most cultivators in Linhe City, this was a fortune. To Shen Yuan, they were merely low-grade fuel.
"Nine Evolutions of the Dragon God," he whispered, his voice resonant in the empty room. "Consume."
He didn't absorb the energy through his palms like a normal cultivator. Instead, he opened every pore on his skin. A terrifying suction force erupted from his body. The Spirit Stones began to vibrate, then crack, their essence being pulled out in visible ribbons of white mist.
As the energy entered him, Shen Yuan's blood began to boil—literally. The Iron Scale technique required the body to be broken and remade. Under his skin, his muscles tore and knitted back together, denser and more flexible. His bones groaned, absorbing the spiritual essence until they took on a faint, crystalline luster.
"Argh..."
A low growl escaped his throat. The pain was like being flayed alive, but Shen Yuan's soul was a steady anchor. He had survived the collapse of the Empyrean Gates; this was nothing.
Suddenly, a faint clink sounded from the rafters.
Shen Yuan didn't open his eyes, but his Dragon Qi rippled outward, sensing a presence. It wasn't the clumsy, heavy presence of a clan guard. It was light, hidden, and smelled faintly of cold plum blossoms.
"It is rude to watch a Sovereign during his purification," Shen Yuan said, his voice cold.
The silence stretched for a moment. Then, a figure dropped from the ceiling, landing as silently as a falling leaf.
It was a woman dressed in form-fitting black night-robes, her face hidden behind a silken veil. Only her eyes were visible—cold, sharp, and filled with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. She held a short blade, but it remained sheathed.
"A 'Sovereign'?" the woman's voice was like velvet over steel. "You have quite the ego for a young master whose name was almost erased this morning. And your 'purification'... I have never seen a technique that consumes stones at such a rate. You aren't cultivating; you're devouring."
Shen Yuan finally opened his eyes. The amber slit in his pupils glowed with a predatory intensity that made the woman instinctively grip her hilt.
"Who sent you?" Shen Yuan asked. "The Acting Clan Leader? Or perhaps a rival clan?"
"I am not a hired blade," she replied, her gaze narrowing. "I am here because of the jade pendant you refused to hand over to Shen Tao. My master has searched for that pendant for ten years. Tell me, Shen Yuan... where did a 'waste' like you get a token from the Heavenly Sword Pavilion?"
Shen Yuan's mind flashed to the memory of the pendant—a simple piece of white jade he had kept tucked in his robes. He hadn't examined it closely yet.
'Heavenly Sword Pavilion?' He knew the name from his past life. They were a top-tier sect in the Middle Realm. 'So, the mother of this body had a background even I didn't suspect.'
He looked at the woman. She was at the
Origin Opening
realm, Mid-Stage. In this city, she was a goddess of death. To him, she was an opportunity.
"If your master wants the pendant, tell him to come and speak to me himself," Shen Yuan said, closing his eyes again. "And tell him to bring something better than low-grade spirit stones. If he wants my time, he must pay in Dragon-Blood Grass."
The woman stiffened. "You... you know of Dragon-Blood Grass? That is a Tier 4 herb! It doesn't even grow in this kingdom!"
"Then you had better start walking," Shen Yuan replied. "You have until the moon sets to leave my pavilion. If I see you again without the herb, I will consider it a declaration of war."
The woman lingered, her eyes darting between the shattered spirit stones and the calm boy. She had come to steal a trinket from a cripple, but she found herself facing a monster. Without another word, she vanished into the shadows, the plum blossom scent fading with her.
Shen Yuan exhaled, a cloud of black, impure blood vapor leaving his lungs.
'A secret ally or a hidden enemy... it matters not,' he thought, his skin starting to shimmer with the first true layer of the Iron Scale. 'Let them bring their herbs and their secrets. I will use them all to fuel my ascent