After the scorpion-tailed devil tiger finally fell, its massive body collapsing as its life force dispersed, the surrounding forest gradually sank into an unnatural silence. From the remains of the soul beast, a dense black soul ring slowly rose into the air. Its color was so deep that it seemed to swallow light, radiating a heavy pressure far beyond that of ordinary high-level soul rings.
Wang Yan did not hesitate. He moved forward and sat cross-legged beside the corpse, his back straight and posture steady. With a calm breath, he released his soul power, guiding it outward. The black soul ring trembled slightly, as if unwilling to submit, before slowly descending and hovering above his head.
The moment the soul ring merged with his body, an overwhelming surge of soul power exploded inward.
A terrifying pressure slammed into his meridians, bones, and muscles at the same time, as though countless sharp forces were cutting through him from within. His muscles tightened instantly, veins standing out clearly beneath his skin, while his bones let out faint cracking sounds under the strain of the violent energy.
This was not a gentle fusion.
The soul power contained within a soul beast of over ninety thousand years was vast, violent, and filled with fierce will. It rushed into Wang Yan's body in powerful waves.
The pain spread rapidly, deep and penetrating, reaching far beyond the physical body. His consciousness trembled as well, as the residual will of the soul beast pressed down upon his spiritual awareness, attempting to disrupt his control over the absorption process.
Yet Wang Yan did not waver.
His expression remained firm, jaw clenched, eyes closed as his will held steady. He forced his soul power to circulate along fixed routes, guiding the chaotic energy into controlled paths. Rather than resisting the pressure directly, he refined it gradually, layer by layer, preventing it from tearing his foundation apart.
As the absorption of the seventh soul ring entered a stable state, the violent chaos of soul power gradually transformed into an immense, suffocating pressure. The pitch-black soul ring rotated steadily around Wang Yan's body, its energy sinking deeper into his blood, bones, and meridians, fusing into his foundation with relentless force.
The forest fell unnaturally silent.
It was at this moment that a subtle yet terrifying change occurred.
From the shattered body of the scorpion-tailed devil tiger, a condensed dark glow slowly emerged. Unlike the dispersed soul power that had already merged into the soul ring, this energy was heavy and oppressive, carrying an ancient ferocity and a chilling killing intent. It gathered above the corpse, forming a small, perfectly compressed sphere of dark energy.
Almost simultaneously, Wang Yan's Iron Sword Martial Soul reacted on its own.
Without any conscious command, the sword manifested before him, suspended upright in the air. The sword body remained solid and intact, forged of refined steel with no exaggerated patterns upon the blade itself. However, along the edges of the sword, a restrained crimson glow quietly appeared, thin yet razor-sharp. Dark-red and blackish energy intertwined faintly around the sword, not erupting outward, but bound tightly to its form, as if restrained by absolute control.
This change did not originate from the sword alone.
The residual influence of Wang Yan's Death God Domain resonated deeply with the beast core's killing nature, creating a silent alignment between destruction and dominance.
The dark sphere trembled.
As though drawn by an invisible authority, it drifted toward the sword, inch by inch. When the distance closed, the sword released a low, chilling hum that rippled faintly through the surrounding forest. The sound was not loud, yet it carried a pressure that caused Liu Ming, Zhao Qing, and Chen Yu to instinctively tense, their breathing unconsciously slowing.
Then, without any violent explosion, the dark sphere made contact with the sword.
The moment they touched, the sphere collapsed inward and was swiftly absorbed.
A wave of pressure surged outward, suppressing the forest like an unseen hand. The surrounding soul power recoiled, as if instinctively avoiding the sword's presence. Though Wang Yan remained seated and unmoving, his soul power fluctuated sharply for an instant, not erupting, but compressing inward.
This was not pain.
It was weight.
An overwhelming heaviness pressed upon his consciousness, carrying the accumulated slaughter, survival instinct, and ferocity of a peak-level soul beast. The sword trembled briefly, its edges glowing brighter for a fleeting moment before stabilizing once more.
As the absorption continued, the sword's structure began to change.
The blade itself remained clean and sharp, its steel unchanged in form, yet its sharpness became more absolute, as if the sword's existence had grown heavier and more decisive. Near the base of the blade, subtle metallic engravings formed within the steel itself—scorpion-tail–like lines flowing naturally toward the blade, restrained and precise. Above them, at the junction between blade and guard, a faint tiger-roaring motif emerged, forged into the metal rather than carved upon it, exuding silent dominance.
The hilt and grip followed the same restrained evolution.
Scorpion-tail line patterns appeared within the metal of the grip, minimal yet deliberate, reinforcing the sense that the sword was no longer merely a weapon, but a vessel of killing intent. Along the blade's edges, the crimson glow deepened slightly, remaining controlled, never overflowing, while a faint black undertone lingered beneath it.
The absorption ended without spectacle.
The sword's hum faded, its glow settling into a steady, restrained radiance. Though the forest returned to stillness, an invisible pressure remained, subtle yet undeniable, causing even the surrounding soul beasts to instinctively retreat.
Throughout the entire process, Wang Yan did not move.
Yet within his consciousness, he clearly felt it.
The bond between him and his sword had deepened beyond mere control. It was heavier, more absolute, and unmistakably different. Though his friends could not perceive the internal changes, they could clearly feel the oppressive presence radiating from the sword, a dominance that caused even their soul power to respond cautiously.
They exchanged silent glances.
No one spoke.
They all understood one thing with certainty—the Iron Sword had evolved, and what stood before them now was no longer an ordinary martial soul weapon, but a sword that carried true killing authority.
End of chapter.