The thick, ink-like darkness of night gradually dispersed before a sliver of fish-belly white on the horizon. The forest was filled with the chill and damp of dawn. Silas, or rather, Finn Cole, slowly opened his eyes. A fleeting sharpness passed through his deep pupils before settling into calmness.
He gently moved his left shoulder. The muscles torn by the Wu Clan warrior's dying struggle and the bones shaken by the impact had now completely recovered. The skin was smooth, without even a single scar left behind. The terrifying regenerative power granted by his affinity with the Law of Life, combined with the herbs he had prepared himself, allowed an injury that would have kept an ordinary first-rank cultivator bedridden for months to heal within just a few days.
"This battle was somewhat easier than expected," Silas murmured to himself, the corner of his mouth lifting in a barely perceptible arc. Recalling the life-and-death struggle against that Wu Clan warrior and several magical beasts, it had seemed perilous, but he had remained in control throughout.
Ultimately, it was the perfect foundation of "Nine-Beasts Perfection" that endowed him with resources far surpassing his peers. His vast and vigorous blood and qi, like a blazing furnace, provided seemingly inexhaustible stamina. His tough meridians carried increasingly refined spiritual energy, purified by the [Thousand Streams Converging Sea Art]. The various traits brought by fusing with nine different magical beasts made his combat style unpredictably versatile, allowing him to find the optimal response to any situation.
"After all this time in the academy, reading numerous texts, I've never heard of anyone capable of fusing with nine magical beasts... An ordinary cultivator, fusing with three is their limit, for fear of bestial nature backlash and impure spiritual energy. Those so-called geniuses held in high esteem might reach the realm of five or six beasts, and are already considered phenomenal. Nine beasts? I'm afraid it's unheard of." Silas's thoughts raced, his confidence in his own path growing clearer and more assured. This path was undoubtedly arduous and painful, like dancing on the edge of a blade, but the rewards were immensely rich.
However, Nine-Beasts Perfection was not the endpoint; it merely laid the cornerstone for the path to higher levels. He clearly felt that while his body and soul were strong, there was still room for improvement. This was especially true for the seven magical beasts fused earlier in his journey—like the Wolf, Python, Digger Rat, Eagle, and Rock-Clawed Weasel. Their original grades were uneven. Although subsequent advancements and the perfect foundation had strengthened their traits, their innate potential ultimately fell short compared to the later fusions: the second-rank Drum-Sac Poison Viper, the peak first-rank Savage Tiger, and that strange Slime-like beast.
With this thought, a memory surfaced in his mind—one of the spoils looted from the Greenwood family members: the [Hundred Beasts Body Tempering Miscellany].
"Using the blood of a hundred beasts as a guide to temper one's body, strengthen blood and qi, and simulate the characteristics of myriad beasts... This method certainly takes a different path. It doesn't involve soul fusion, only extracts the essence of the blood, with much lower risk. It's quite suitable for me now." A light of contemplation shone in Silas's eyes. "If I can use the affinity of the Law of Life to leverage these beast bloods as a foundation, reversely nourish and enhance the origin of those seven lower-grade fused beasts within me, bringing them all to the peak first-rank level... my physical body's strength is bound to make a qualitative leap!"
This idea set his heart ablaze with anticipation. The Law of Life could not only repair but also promote "growth" and "evolution." In theory, using this method to guide the essence within high-rank beast blood to directionally strengthen the origin of his already fused beasts was entirely feasible!
With his plan set, he delayed no longer. Although this place was deep within the mountain range, the commotion from the previous battle was not insignificant, making it unwise to stay. He stood up, meticulously erased all traces of his presence, and with a movement of his body, executed the [Drifting Leaf Step]. He merged into the forest breeze like a wisp of smoke, silently speeding towards the direction of Essence Grace City.
Several days later, a travel-worn Silas once again stood before the magnificent gates of Essence Grace City. He still maintained the somewhat ordinary and timid appearance of Finn Cole, paid the entry tax, and blended into the endless stream of people, entering the city safely.
He did not return directly to the academy. Instead, he wound through alleys, familiar with the route, and slipped into the lawless, mixed district in the southeastern corner of the city. This was the black market of Essence Grace City, chaotic and unregulated, but as long as you could pay the price, you could buy almost anything shady and dispose of any goods of dubious origin.
Entering a shop marked only by a tattered bone plaque and no sign, the dim light revealed a withered, elderly man who barely lifted his eyelids.
Silas didn't speak, simply placing several bulging storage pouches on the counter. They contained all the spoils he had gathered from the Wu Clan warrior, Edgar's team members, and Barton—everything except the mysterious broken sword, the tiger-tooth dagger, a small amount of personal spirit stones, and key inheritance bone slips. This included standard-issue weapons, armor, copies of some low-to-mid-grade cultivation manuals, assorted pills, and a large quantity of materials harvested from magical beasts, particularly the complete pelts, poison sacs, and claws of the Drum-Sac Poison Viper and the Rock-Clawed Weasel, which were quite valuable.
The old man finally raised his eyelids, his murky gaze sweeping over the pouches, his spiritual sense probing inside. After a moment, he rasped a number: "Two thousand eight hundred low-rank spirit stones."
Silas frowned slightly; the price was a bit lower than his expectation. He remained silent, allowing a trace of the icy, murderous aura forged through countless life-and-death battles to emanate faintly from him. His fingers tapped lightly on the counter, producing a dull tap-tap sound.
The air in the shop seemed to freeze for a few seconds.
A barely perceptible glint of sharpness flashed in the old man's turbid eyes as he reassessed the seemingly ordinary young man before him. He amended his offer: "Three thousand. Not a coin more."
"Deal." Silas nodded curtly.
The transaction completed, Silas left the shop with a new storage pouch containing three thousand low-rank spirit stones. Feeling its substantial weight, he couldn't help but reflect, "Murder and arson yield gold-lined belts... No wonder there are always those who take desperate risks in this world. The speed of acquiring wealth this way is far quicker than struggling in the mine or doing missions for the academy."
He shook his head, suppressing this sudden insight. Power was the foundation; spirit stones were merely tools. What Silas sought was transcendence and protection, not mere plunder. Unless necessary, he had no desire to actively spill the blood of the innocent. But if anyone stood in his way, or like Barton, sought their own doom, he would absolutely not show mercy.
Returning to the academy, he went straight to the mission hall, submitted the portion of Moonlight Grass he had cultivated and gathered, and recounted the fabricated story of the "sole survivor." He perfectly acted the part—the terror of a narrow escape, grief for his "fallen" comrades, and a hint of responsibility for completing the mission alone and turning in the resources. His performance was flawless. The attendant in charge only asked a few routine questions before approving it, even offering a few words of comfort and reminding him to be more careful when teaming up next time.
As for the disappearances of Barton, Edgar, and the others, such occurrences were all too common in the perilous missions within the Magical Beast Mountains. They failed to create even a ripple. Casualties and disappearances among students during external training happened every day. As long as it wasn't a large-scale, mysterious mass death, it wouldn't attract the attention of the higher-ups. This brutal reality provided the perfect cover for Silas's disguise.
With the loose ends tied up, Silas embarked on a frenzied plan of cultivation and strengthening.
His first step was to return to the Scripture Depository, exchanging for several more obscure basic spear technique manuals that contained unique conceptual insights, further deepening his [Art of the Forgotten Spear]. Simultaneously, he spent almost all of the three thousand spirit stones from the black market and most of his previous savings, purchasing a massive quantity and variety of magical beast blood through both academy channels and another trip to the black market. From peak first-rank "Ironback Rage Bears" to speed-focused "Gale Wolves," from highly venomous "Jade-Scale Vipers" to defensively formidable "Black-Armor Rhinos"... He sought diversity in species and attributes to meet the requirements of the [Hundred Beasts Body Tempering Miscellany] and provide ample "raw material" for the guidance of the Law of Life.
The next three months saw Silas living the life of an ascetic.
During the day, he would either hone his [Thousand Streams Converging Sea Art] in a cultivation chamber, purifying his spiritual energy and accumulating capital for his breakthrough; or, in a remote part of the academy's back mountain, practice basic spear forms with his standard long spear, forgetting the moves and seeking only the elusive "intent," while integrating the essence of his newly acquired spear techniques into his own. He also entered the [Mirror of Dueling Reflections] for endless battles against his mirror image, tempering his newly comprehended second spear technique, [Hundred Beasts' Roar]. When executed, this technique created a multitude of spear shadows, accompanied by the phantom roars and charges of a hundred beasts, its aura terrifying and its power far surpassing that of the single [Serpent's Bite].
Nights were reserved for the [Hundred Beasts Tempering]. Inside the mirror space, he would fill a large wooden barrel with the purchased beast blood, activate the Law of Life, and immerse himself in the blood teeming with violent energy. The process was excruciating, as if countless steel needles were piercing his body, or being scorched by fire and frozen by ice. But relying on his powerful soul force and willpower, he forcibly guided the essence within the blood. His goal was not to fuse new bestial natures, but to act like a master gardener, using this essence as nourishment to precisely irrigate and nourish the origin of the seven relatively weaker beasts within him.
Wrapped in the vibrant green energy of the Law of Life, the phantom of the wolf within his blood and qi became more solid and fierce, the python's flexibility gained a metallic sheen, the digger rat's spirit grew wiser, its perception of earth energy expanding... One by one, the origin of the beasts, nurtured by the Law of Life and the essence of higher-grade beast blood, underwent a metamorphic transformation, advancing towards the true peak of the first rank.
As days passed, his spirit stones were consumed like flowing water, and vast quantities of beast blood were drained of their essence, turning into waste. And his body underwent astonishing changes throughout this process.
His muscle fibers became denser, his bones took on a jade-like luster, and the rush of his blood and qi even produced a faint, tidal sound. The toughness of his skin greatly increased, making it difficult for ordinary blades to injure him. His strength, speed, and reflexes were. The synergy between the nine beast traits within him also became smoother and more perfectly integrated.
One night, three months later.
"Bzzzt—"
A low hum emanated from within his body. His blood and qi, like a bursting dam, surged forth tumultuously. A faint, illusory glow, mixed with the features of various beasts, shimmered on the surface of his skin before rapidly retracting inward. He snapped his eyes open, divine light sparkling within them, as if fearsome beasts lurked within.
He made a gentle gripping motion with his fist, the air compressing and popping softly in his palm.
"Success!" A sincere smile finally graced Silas's lips as he felt the surging power straining to burst forth within him.
After three months and immense expenditure, he had finally elevated and balanced all nine beast origins within him to the absolute peak of the first rank! Consequently, the strength of his physical body smoothly crossed the threshold, formally stepping into the early second rank!
Now, relying on his physical strength alone, he could crush an ordinary early second-rank cultivator. Coupled with his Nine-Beasts Perfection traits, microcosmic spear realm, powerful soul, and numerous trump cards... He was absolutely confident that he was invincible within the early second rank! Even facing a mid second-rank expert, he was sufficient to hold his own, and with his endless stream of methods, could remain undefeated!
The only remaining shortcoming was his spiritual energy cultivation, still stagnant at the peak of the first rank. But the [Thousand Streams Converging Sea Art] had long since solidified his foundation rock-solid. Breaking through to the second rank required only the right opportunity, a single, focused attempt at seclusion.
He left the cultivation chamber, gazing out at the familiar academy scenery, his gaze calm and profound. Three months of silence and accumulation had made the edge of his blade, this weapon, more concealed and even more deadly.
"It's about time for 'Finn Cole' to make some 'progress'," he murmured to himself. The next step was to find the opportunity to break through the spiritual energy barrier in one go, allowing this disguised identity to possess a "surface strength" worthy of his true combat power.
As for those few "classmates" who had vanished in the forest, they had long since sunk like stones thrown into the sea, without creating any ripples. The academy's cruelty and indifference remained as ever. And this was precisely what Silas needed.