Puffer Sark Bloodmead was more commonly known by its ominous epithet—the Crippled God's Blood Ambrosia—a substance of immense potential, yet almost entirely unusable.
It possessed five primary properties: attunement, purity, augmentation, absorption, and finally, flexibility.
Its attunement property was perhaps the most deceptive of all. As a liquid, it could harmonize with all forms of qi, regardless of their purity, density, or volatility.
Though this sounded like a miraculous boon, in practical application—especially within the human body—it was more akin to a curse. The problem was simple: this level of attunement could not be controlled.
What would happen if, during cultivation, one suddenly and chaotically began absorbing volatile qi? What if its density fluctuated unpredictably, then stabilized, only to mutate into a form one's body could no longer bear?
The result: guaranteed death.
In cultivation, what could not be controlled was always a hazard.
This flaw bled directly into its next two characteristics—purity and augmentation.
Bloodmead could purify the body, entirely and irrevocably, but to such an extreme that it began dismantling the internal qi ecosystem without discrimination or understanding.
Once it purged all tangible impurities, it moved on to purify the qi itself—a process that brought more harm than benefit. What if the qi, once purified, became too potent to handle? What if it mutated entirely? What if it purged the wrong energy?
And augmentation? Bloodmead could magnify both the strength of the flesh and the mind, but again—it was utterly uncontrollable. This often led to catastrophic imbalance.
Some cultivators would find their mental faculties unable to keep pace with their physical transformations, rendering them mentally crippled. Others became grotesque, overgrown masses of swollen, dysfunctional flesh.
When combined with its fourth property—absorption—the dangers became even more grotesque. The Bloodmead's ability to absorb, transmute, and redirect qi was unparalleled, but without control mechanisms, that advantage became suicidal.
Ultimately, the defining trait of Puffer Sark Bloodmead was its instability—its sheer inability to conform to predictable patterns.
That's why it was typically relegated to prisons, used as a qi suppressant rather than a tool for cultivation.
But none of this mattered to Samael.
Because across existence, perhaps there wasn't a single soul more attuned to the art of qi control than him.
Such a person didn't exist—and had never existed.
——
The condensed humanoid silhouette formed from the Bloodmead trembled as glowing runes ignited along its surface, each one burning brighter than the last, like newborn stars flaring into being.
And then, the transformation began. Layer by meticulous layer, the liquid mass transmuted into something tangible.
First came bones, then bone marrow, followed by ligaments, cartilage, and joints, weaving together with terrifying precision.
Muscles, tendons, and nerves followed, each strand crafted with purpose. Veins branched like rivers, wrapping around the forming skeleton until blood vessels pulsed to life.
Samael's body was being reforged from the very essence of the Bloodmead. And along with it, his mind.
Fragments of his consciousness, scattered across the liquid void, began to converge, fusing back together stronger, sharper—faster. His thoughts returned with the crisp precision of lightning, each memory now enhanced, as if dipped in divine clarity.
What Samael had done bordered on madness.
And yet, he had done it without hesitation—not once, but twice—first during the tribulation, and now, here.
The mind was perhaps the most fragile aspect of one's existence. At his current stage, Samael shouldn't even be able to interact with it so directly, let alone shatter and rebuild it repeatedly.
Doing so invited permanent damage. Crippling damage.
But he had never once doubted himself.
SHAH!
Samael's skin reformed last, wrapping around his new frame like silk over iron. To the untrained eye, he looked unchanged—but that couldn't be further from the truth.
His physique had evolved. His muscles, though more compact than he'd hoped, rippled with tightly packed power. His black mane of hair had deepened in shade, now cascading past his shoulders in fiery, obsidian waves.
But it was in his eyes that the true transformation was most evident.
For a moment, they stared blankly into the void—lifeless and still—but then, the light returned. That unmistakable glint of cunning and defiance gleamed once again.
Samael grinned.
'Success.'
Power surged through his body, brimming beneath the surface, barely contained. This wasn't even the true Heavenly Body he planned to forge—it was merely a seed.
Yet, even now, it surpassed the quality of any vessel he had crafted in his previous lives.
And this was only the beginning.
He exhaled slowly, pushing those thoughts aside. Now wasn't the time to gloat.
There was something else to deal with…
"Young man…"
The voice cut through the quiet like a blade of silk. Floating just in front of him, hovering in the ruined abyss where the mirror maze had once existed, was Head Merchant Leroy.
The Elder's gaze trembled slightly as it locked onto Samael. He saw everything.
The forging of a Heavenly Body was impressive enough. But it wasn't the act itself that disturbed him—it was the method. The implications.
If he could get his hands on even a shred of that knowledge…
Head Merchant Leroy forcibly severed the tendril of greed before it could take root.
"Be more careful with your secrets, child," he said at last.
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed Samael's clothes and armbands toward him.
"And if you cause chaos like that again, my reaction will not be so… tame."
Without waiting for a response, he raised a hand—and Samael vanished, teleported away toward the next trial.
The time he had wasted would serve as his punishment.
Yet even as Samael disappeared, Head Merchant Leroy lingered in the shattered ruins of the maze, mind racing.
'To use spiritualisation… and alchemical principles of assimilation… alongside a stabilizing formation… to reforge not only the body's foundation and origin… but the very essence of the self?'
'And then to apply it to the mind, as well…' He stroked his beard slowly as he drifted away.
He would not let greed consume him. No. But this… this was something worth pursuing.
An idea. A path.