He stopped in front of the bound Zhi Xuan. His pale body radiated the aura of a Master Weaver. Slowly, the Head Weaver extended his alabaster hand and lifted it. Instantly, the cauldron hovering in the air trembled and struggled, but the golden threads immediately wrapped around the cauldron and forced it to submit.

  "This..." The Head Weaver's tone changed. There was a slight hidden tremor of excitement. "A Soul Artifact... from the Ancient Era. No. It is older. A Cauldron capable of refining spiritual blood. I have never seen such a pure artifact," the Head Weaver muttered.

  The Cauldron felt cold and pure in the Head Weaver's hand, a sharp contrast to his dead skin. The Head Weaver turned the Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron over and over between his palms, allowing the serene jade-gold aura to emanate.

  He let out a low laugh, a laugh that did not ring like the scraping of bones, but rather like the sound of cracking ice.

  "Arrogant boy. You came looking for medicine, but instead, you brought the best cauldron. Pure spiritual blood in your body, and a refining cauldron in my hands. A perfect cycle, indeed."

  The Head Weaver glanced at Zhi Xuan who was bound and spitting blood due to the pressure of the golden threads. The threads were not just suppressing Essence; they were trying to forcibly pull out the Demonic and Heavenly auras.

  Zhi Xuan gritted his teeth, his Black Jade Essence surging, but he could not resist the power of this Weaving. He felt his consciousness being forcibly dragged out.

  "I will give you a proper resting place, Young Master," the Head Weaver whispered.

  With a gentle wave of his hand, Zhi Xuan was forcibly lifted. The golden threads pulled him past the spiraling huts and the already ruined soil excavations.

  He was taken toward the most well-maintained hut.

  The young man sharpening the axe, the Gatekeeper, stepped aside, his eyes empty as the helpless Zhi Xuan was brought inside.

  As Zhi Xuan was carried across the threshold of the hut, he looked up for the last time.

  The black-purplish mist above them felt increasingly heavy, and Zhi Xuan felt the stench of decaying spiritual blood flowing into his lungs.

  THUD.

  He was thrown onto the cold, earthen floor inside the hut. It was pitch black darkness, but Zhi Xuan's eyes, radiating a faint Azure Holy Flame, managed to catch one last horrifying detail before his consciousness was completely withdrawn.

  In the corner of the hut, there was an extremely ancient Stone Cauldron, much larger than the Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron. Under the cauldron, a faint fire made of thick, foul Spiritual Blood was slowly burning. Zhi Xuan felt the final pull of his consciousness, as the Head Weaver closed the door.

  CLACK.

  Darkness. Cold. And the smell of decaying spiritual blood. Zhi Xuan passed out, the sound of the golden threads scraping against his bound body was the last thing he heard.

  Zhi Xuan fell into darkness, but he did not die. Instead, his soul was thrown into his Sea of Consciousness. There, darkness was meaningless. His Sea of Consciousness, usually a tranquil black pool, was now churning like a storm in the Heavenly Ocean.

  In one corner, the Wheel of Celestial Samsara spun wildly, radiating an ancient jade light trying to fend off the invasion. At the bottom of his sea of consciousness, Ruo Xianxue's Ancient Devil Monument towered, emitting a dense, yet suppressed and distorted, Demonic Essence.

  In the midst of this spiritual storm, two entities confronted each other.

  "You let yourself be captured like a child chasing a butterfly!" Ruo Xianxue roared. Her spiritual form—a formless dark shadow that radiated a crushing pressure—spun around the pillar of chains of the Ancient Devil Monument. "I warned you! Your arrogance led you to the field of Necromancy Blood!"

  Zhi Xuan, in his own spiritual form—a young man with sapphire blue eyes radiating cold tranquility—stood on the projection of the Wheel of Celestial Samsara.

  "Be quiet, red stone. I know what I am doing," Zhi Xuan retorted, though his voice was strained. "I feel... that is not the original Law of Necromancy."

  Zhi Xuan remembered the star villagers' stories, that Necromancy was about those who walked upon death. Like being on the boundary of life and death, neither dead nor alive, unable to be purified even by light. Instead, they swallowed the light.

  "You know they said 'the Sun will not replace the Moon'?" Zhi Xuan dropped down in the sea of consciousness, sitting cross-legged and staring at the dark ocean. "If they were truly living death, the light of purity should not be able to make them waver."

  Zhi Xuan looked towards the Wheel of Celestial Samsara, where the Dao runes of the Four Seasons and the not yet fully purified Taiyin Essence were embedded. If Taiyin was bone-chilling cold, forced growth, instant power at the cost of death at any moment, then why was Taiyin not fragile against the mutually balancing Law of Four Seasons?

  Instead, Taiyin dominated, which was why Zhi Xuan had endured with the Azure Holy Flame slowly eroding, not purifying. He was pursuing the Blood Transformation realm to purify his spiritual blood, to remove the lingering foul Taiyin essence that could erode his foundation from within at any time.

  "This is the reaction of corruption to purity," Zhi Xuan murmured, remembering how the Mist Chaser villagers wavered at the light. "This is not the reaction of death to life."

  There was a moment of silence. Ruo Xianxue was quiet at the bottom of Zhi Xuan's sea of consciousness. But only for a moment, a gigantic shadowy finger appeared above his sea of consciousness, threatening Zhi Xuan as if the finger was Ruo Xianxue staring at him sharply.

  "Speak," Ruo Xianxue echoed, her voice hoarse and dripping with cruel demand. "What do you understand."

  Zhi Xuan raised his head, his calm eyes radiating a cold blue light amidst the churning darkness. Outside his physical body, the Head Weaver's golden threads were trying to tear his Essence, but within this Sea of Consciousness, he had absolute control over his logic.

  "I told you, Red Stone," Zhi Xuan countered, his tone returning to flat and analytical, ignoring the threat of Ruo Xianxue's gigantic shadowy finger. "The true art of Necromancy or Living Death—which reaches the limit of the Heavenly Dao—does not fear light. They are anti-light; they swallow purity and turn it into darkness. They do not waver."

  Zhi Xuan snapped his hand, and the projection of the Wheel of Celestial Samsara radiated a serene ancient jade light, forming ripples in the stormy Sea of Consciousness. This light stabilized the small area around him.

  "But," he continued, pointing to the bottom of the sea, towards the shadow of Ruo Xianxue's Ancient Devil Monument. "My moth, Xiao Die, emitted a pure Rainbow Jade Light—the Essence of a Titan-level Spiritual Beast—and it successfully repelled those golden threads. This means, purity is a poison to them, not something to be swallowed."

  "And you," pointing towards the gigantic shadowy finger that was only a short distance above him, Zhi Xuan smiled slyly as if to offer Ruo Xianxue a deal. "You are a Sacred Devil; you are whole, not fragmented. What if I lure that master weaver to penetrate my sea of consciousness?"

  Zhi Xuan rose from his position, bowing his head to look at his own reflection on the sea of consciousness, then staring far towards the Ancient Devil Monument stored at the bottom.

  "Do not be hypocritical, I know you are hungry for the smell of death."

  Ruo Xianxue's shadowy face, projected in the form of a gigantic finger above the sea, froze in a long silence. Although she had no physical eyes, the pressure she radiated felt like a sharp gaze piercing Zhi Xuan's soul.

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  Zhi Xuan stood tall on the projection of the Wheel of Celestial Samsara, his spiritual form radiating a bold, cold light. His request, or rather, his offer to Ruo Xianxue—to lure the Head Weaver into invading his Sea of Consciousness—was an act of madness that could only be born from the strategic desperation of an Ancient Heaven cultivator.

  Ruo Xianxue finally spoke. A hoarse laugh heavier than bone scraping and darker than the abyss of the Ancient Devil Monument shook the entire Sea of Consciousness.

  "Interesting," Ruo Xianxue echoed, and the gigantic shadowy finger slowly shrunk, swirling into a vortex of ancient Demonic Essence that was threatening. "You, who are half-terrified by that Heavenly woman, now dare to invite a mouse playing with Death to enter the Dragon's lair?"

  "I am not afraid of Miss Zhu; I respect her strategy," Zhi Xuan corrected without flinching, staring back at the Essence vortex. "As for you, are you afraid of the undead?"

  The Demonic Essence vortex spun faster, radiating a wave of pressure that nearly made Zhi Xuan kneel. The pressure was like a layered mountain pressing down on his sea of consciousness.

  "I am afraid?" Ruo Xianxue laughed again, this time a truly deafening laugh. "There is no such thing as fear for a Sacred Devil who has witnessed the destruction of the Dao itself. I merely dislike putrid garbage!"

  The vortex immediately glowed and threw Zhi Xuan backward. He winced as the wave made him feel a sense of familiarity, experiencing the same thing as when he challenged Ruo Xianxue on the day of his Divine Wheel awakening.

  "Yet you," Ruo Xianxue echoed, her voice dripping poison. "You will have a devil seed inside you. I cannot fully swallow that weaver, limited by my soul being fragmented in these nine chains."

  Zhi Xuan rubbed his wincing spiritual form, recovering his balance on the Wheel of Celestial Samsara. The Ancient Devil Monument, though suppressed, was Ruo Xianxue's greatest source of power. The state of having a devil seed was a risk, that Ruo Xianxue would condense that essence of death, then swallow some and spit out the rest in the form of a devil seed.

  Zhi Xuan knew, the devil seed Ruo Xianxue mentioned was her way of planting a soul seed, a devil seed inside his body, which one day if it hatched, he would have a devil inside his body, a devil soul that could be fatal if his Dao heart was not solid.

  "I even challenge millions of years of cultivation," Zhi Xuan said, tilting his head up. "Just a devil seed, how could it shake my Dao."

  Zhi Xuan rose with difficulty, his eyes flickering sharply and coldly. Stepping on his sea of consciousness like a newborn Devil, challenging the Sacred Devil figure who witnessed the fall of the Nine Heavens.

  "Even if you take over my body," Zhi Xuan said, grinning widely. "I will also drag your Devil Monument to destruction with me."

  The Demonic Essence vortex spun above Zhi Xuan's head, radiating an unbearable wave of pressure. Ruo Xianxue no longer laughed; her voice now returned to a cold, hoarse whisper, laden with the weight of millions of years of suffering and dominion.

  "A bold threat, Monkey," Ruo Xianxue whispered, her voice now circling the entire Sea of Consciousness, embracing and choking Zhi Xuan. "You know full well, that if my soul is detached from this Ancient Devil Monument—even for a split second—both our fates will turn to ashes. And this Monument... is the only thing left of the Great Era."

  The Demonic Essence vortex subsided, returning to a dark shadow spinning above the Ancient Devil Monument. Ruo Xianxue had accepted the gamble.

  "Very well, clever Young Master," Ruo Xianxue echoed, with a tone that now returned to an authoritative and dangerous oppressor. "We will dismantle this rat. Mark my words: you lure it. I swallow it. And the remaining devil seed will be your price."

  Zhi Xuan smiled coldly. That was the best agreement he could get.

  "Agreed," Zhi Xuan replied, wasting no time. "Swallow him until nothing remains."

  Although the agreement had been made, time was Zhi Xuan's enemy. Outside the Sea of Consciousness, the Head Weaver, holding control over the Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron, would not wait.

  The Head Weaver stepped across the earthen floor of the hut. He held the dark jade-gold Cauldron with the pleasure of an alchemist who had just found a legendary kettle. He placed the Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron atop the ancient Stone Cauldron that was blazing with Spiritual Blood Fire.

  The Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron spun in place, rebelling against the Foul Blood Essence beneath it, but the Head Weaver's golden threads suppressed it, forcing it to function as the cauldron lid. The thick Spiritual Blood Fire now began to lick the Cauldron.

  The Head Weaver then walked toward the bound and unconscious Zhi Xuan. He ignored the Black Jade Essence struggling against the golden threads on Zhi Xuan's skin surface.

  "Those of you who carry the seeds of Heaven and Devil always yield the best harvest," the Head Weaver whispered.

  He extended his pale alabaster hand. The golden threads binding Zhi Xuan suddenly pulsed and pulled. Zhi Xuan gasped in pain, and a drop of dark-gold blood spurted from his shoulder. The blood did not fall to the ground; it was drawn by the golden threads, floating in the air.

  That blood, which radiated the condensed aura of Ancient Heaven and Devil, immediately became the Head Weaver's focus. He rotated his fingers, and the blood began to lengthen and thin, forming another delicate thread much more valuable than his own golden thread.

  "Heaven-Devil Blood..." the Head Weaver muttered, his voice filled with sick ecstasy. "This is the best bait."

  He was not interested in the Essence that Zhi Xuan had absorbed; he was interested in Zhi Xuan's extremely rare foundation. He wanted to harvest his Sea of Consciousness.

  The Head Weaver closed his eyes and channeled his Divine Sense. Outside the body, the golden thread from his hand immediately penetrated the golden threads binding Zhi Xuan, piercing his cold skin, heading toward the churning Sea of Consciousness.

  Inside Zhi Xuan's Sea of Consciousness, Ruo Xianxue's Demonic Essence vortex had subsided, waiting with deadly calmness. The Wheel of Celestial Samsara spun slowly, radiating a dim light.

  Suddenly, the Sea of Consciousness shattered.

  A thin shadow, like a needle, made of decaying golden thread, pierced the Sea of Consciousness. The shadow carried the Head Weaver's will—cold, hungry, and deeply corrosive.

  "You have something interesting inside you, Young Master," the Head Weaver's voice echoed in the Sea of Consciousness, his voice sounding like a whisper over a tomb. "Allow me to harvest your foundation. It will make my puppets live for thousands of years."

  The Head Weaver's will in the form of a golden needle shot toward the center of the Sea of Consciousness, aiming for the projection of the Wheel of Celestial Samsara and the dark shadow monument spinning at the bottom.

  However, before the will reached the center, the Demonic Essence vortex that had been calm beside the Ancient Devil Monument suddenly erupted into a low, deafening roar.

  "Come here, this devil needs a gourmet meal."

  The roar was not spiritual; it was a roar of Law created by millions of years of destruction and arrogance. Ruo Xianxue's Demonic Essence vortex shot out, not just toward the golden needle, but spreading throughout the Sea of Consciousness, binding it with swirling dark shadows.

  The Head Weaver's golden needle instantly froze. That will, accustomed to attacking and swallowing lower Essence of Death, suddenly met a power beyond its comprehension—a power that was locked, fragmented, but was Pure Demonic Essence from the Ancient Era.

  "W-What is this... Sacred Devil Essence?" the Head Weaver whispered, his cold will overwhelmed by panic. "Impossible! The Sacred Devils have perished!"

  Ruo Xianxue's vortex gave no chance for negotiation. It was a Devil. It was a predator. Ruo Xianxue swallowed the golden needle with terrifying speed, and the vortex immediately dragged it into the depths of the Ancient Devil Monument.

  Outside the hut, the Head Weaver screamed. Not a physical scream, but a mental scream that shook the entire Mist Chaser Village.

  The thousands of golden threads stretching from his back to the village puppets and the black-purplish mist suddenly slackened. The puppets fell to the ground with a deadly thud. The mist above the village churned wildly, as if something massive had been ripped from its roots.

  The Head Weaver stumbled backward, his hand holding the Heaven-Devil blood siphoned from Zhi Xuan suddenly trembling, and he lost control. The blood fell to the earthen floor. He clutched his head, his will in the Sea of Consciousness being torn apart by the hungry Sacred Devil. Blood flowed from his eyes.

  "You summoned a Devil! You are a Devil vessel!" the Head Weaver roared, an absolute fear he had never felt since becoming a Master Weaver filling his voice.

  Inside Zhi Xuan's body, the golden threads binding him slackened. Zhi Xuan's Black Jade Essence, already prepared, immediately exploded, shattering the fragile remnants of the threads.

  Zhi Xuan opened his eyes. He was no longer bound. He rose from the cold earthen floor, although still weak. He smiled faintly. Ruo Xianxue never disappointed him when it came to slaughter.

  In front of him, the Head Weaver staggered, clutching his alabaster-white head. Blood—not spiritual blood, but thick, decaying blood—flowed from his eyes, nose, and mouth. His will had been torn, and his source of power, his Sea of Consciousness, was being plundered by a much more ancient entity.

  "Devil vessel... You lured me..." the Head Weaver whispered, his voice hoarse and desperate, mixed with a hoarse laugh similar to bone scraping that was now unbearable.

  Zhi Xuan ignored the scream. Time was precious. He did not waste his limited Essence attacking an already fallen foe. He walked slowly, his steps measured, picking up the drop of dark-gold Heaven-Devil Blood that the Head Weaver had just dropped.

  The blood felt warm and thick in his hand, radiating a familiar dual aura. Zhi Xuan did not save it; he immediately devoured the blood, allowing the dense ancient energy to absorb into his meridians, slightly stabilizing his new Sanctum foundation.

  He then turned to the most precious object. The Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron was still atop the ancient Stone Cauldron, with the thick Spiritual Blood Fire licking it. Without the Head Weaver's control, the Cauldron rebelled with full force. The jade-gold aura exploded, shattering the Spiritual Blood Fire licking it, purifying the ancient Stone Cauldron.

  WHIRR!

  The Cauldron shot back into Zhi Xuan's hand, shrinking into a serene jade-gold bead in his hair.

  'I have swallowed it, Monkey. It tasted disgusting, like eating rotten carcass woven with spider silk. I have purified and stored it at the bottom of the Monument. Now, dispose of this garbage. The devil seed is forming,' Ruo Xianxue's voice echoed, now sounding very satisfied, in the Sea of Consciousness.

  Zhi Xuan felt a new energy at the bottom of his Sea of Consciousness—a clump of purified Essence of Death that now swirled with Ancient Devil energy. It was not a pleasant Essence, but it was a stable power he could use, and it was the price of Ruo Xianxue's promise.

  He did not concern himself with the Devil seed Ruo Xianxue mentioned, Zhi Xuan just clenched his jaw, focusing on the last enemy.