Wei Shiyan vanished from the battlefield without leaving the faintest ripple. One instant, the treasures of his fallen enemies shimmered in the air; the next, both he and the spoils had disappeared as though swallowed by the void itself. Even the aura that had lingered across the sky was erased, leaving no trace that a storm of blood and power had just taken place.
When he reappeared, it was in the quiet of his tavern room—one he had booked a day before, long before his enemies had ever guessed at their own deaths. The wooden door was shut, the night outside dim, but within those four walls he wasted no time. Crossing his legs atop the bed, he released the full force of his soul power, spreading it through every inch of the chamber. The room became a sealed fortress, impenetrable to spying eyes or lurking assassins.
It was not fear that drove this caution. Wei Shiyan feared no one. Rather, it was anger. His anger was a monstrous thing—volatile, unrestrained, and absolute. He hated intrusions more than he hated death itself. If anyone dared to peek into his private sanctum, he would slaughter them without pause, not only them but their bloodline, their clans, their legacies. His wrath was a curse that even demons would flee from. Better to prevent such triggers than let his fury spiral into genocide.
Calming his breath, he turned his focus inward. With a thought, he summoned the spatial rings he had seized. He scanned through them one by one, and soon his eyes widened with disbelief. The wealth hidden in those rings… it surpassed every expectation.
Riches enough to build kingdoms. Treasures enough to topple sects.
He released a thread of soul power, testing the resonance of the items. If any treasure could stir even the smallest reaction within his soul, then it was extraordinary—something worth devouring, something capable of fueling his path forward.
Six items emerged before him, pulled from the depths of the spatial rings, and his heart trembled though his face remained impassive.
A broken sword, Its fragments humming with restrained slaughter intent.
A void spatial stone, vibrating faintly with the mysteries of worlds unseen.
A miniature mountain, radiating an oppressive weight as if it contained the burden of heaven itself.
A chunk of dark ore, silent yet unfathomable, like a prison of endless secrets.
An ancient cauldron, weathered yet refusing to decay.
And finally, a broken altar, still exuding an aura of worship that seemed older than time.
Each treasure carried an immeasurable depth,
And all of them release a strong principles,
yet he forced himself to set them aside for now. His heart pounded, but he kept his expression calm, disciplined. There was more to examine.
From another ring, he drew forth the one object that had lingered in his mind even before the battle: a glowing disc etched with intricate patterns. Its surface pulsed faintly, as though it carried the breath of an ancient world.
He pressed his spiritual sense into it, and at once a cascade of seals broke apart like chains snapping under pressure. Some barriers resisted, but most yielded before the might of his soul. Knowledge flooded his mind—rushing torrents of information that left him gasping.
The disc was no simple trinket. It was a fragment of an ancient natural formation, a living structure of law and seal, capable of shaping reality itself. With patience, he refined the artifact, his soul weaving through its hidden inscriptions. At last, he pushed it to its maximum potential. The formation now held the terrifying ability to seal anything beneath the immortal realm itself.
Gratitude stirred faintly in him—not for the artifact, but for the monstrous strength of his soul. Without it, refinement would have been impossible.
Without hesitation, Wei Shiyan activated the formation. Runes ignited and spun through the room, expanding until they sealed the chamber entirely. It was no longer just a tavern room but a pocket of isolated space, severed from the outside world. Even heaven's will could not pry into its secrets.
At last, he felt safe enough to begin. His breath slowed, his mind sharpened—and then it began.
A thunderous roar split the silence.
"BOOOOOOM!"
His soul erupted. His consciousness was hurled into a void of endless darkness.
For an instant, there was only silence. Then, a blinding light ripped through the shadows, rending the abyss apart.
Agony followed. Pain beyond comprehension seared his very essence. His body convulsed, every fiber of his being trembling violently until the torment became unbearable. At last, his mind went blank. He lost all sense of the world, drifting in a darkness that seemed eternal.
They say the soul cannot be tempered. They say to attempt it is death.
But Wei Shiyan was not one who bent to rules.
Time lost all meaning.
When at last he stirred, he found himself sprawled across the bed, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His limbs were numb, his strength scattered. He could not lift even a finger.
Above him, the runic formation blazed with brilliant light. Its power should have reduced him to dust, yet instead it cocooned him. It had recognized him as its master. A weaker Wei Shiyan would have perished instantly, but now… now the formation guarded him even as it restrained him.
He stared at the glowing inscriptions with a blank gaze. Slowly, painfully, he raised a trembling hand. His mind reached into his body.
Then it came.
A surge of heavenly energy gushed forth from within him, like a spring breaking free from stone. It flowed through his veins, pure and endless, filling him with life.
Strength. Power. Beauty.
He sat upright. His reflection in the mirror across the room startled even him. His features had sharpened into something ethereal, so handsome it defied mortal description. Power radiated from every pore. His clenched fists trembled with overflowing energy. The very air quivered, the formation itself trembling as though unable to contain him.
He exhaled—and the chamber shook.
He had stepped into a realm far beyond before.
But it was not finished.
With a solemn breath, he released the soul rings within his own inner space. They burst forth into the air above him, shimmering like stars.
What he saw made his heart freeze.
The foundation of reality itself—the space, the walls, even the very bed beneath him—shook violently. The formation groaned as though on the brink of collapse.
Yet none of it mattered. His gaze was locked on the soul rings above.
And what he saw there…
…terrified
him.