After obtaining the Soul-Refining Treasure Manual, Lin lan threw himself into study with near-obsessive focus.
Night after night passed in a blur.
Honestly, if he'd put even a fraction of this dedication into his college entrance exams back then, he probably would've cruised straight into Tsinghua or Peking University without breaking a sweat.
The manual itself was bizarre. Its pages were made from some unknown material—soft and smooth like silk, yet gleaming with a cold metallic sheen. No matter how hard Lin lan tried, he couldn't leave so much as a scratch on it.
As he turned the pages, silver runes and strange patterns drifted up from the text, swirling slowly in midair as if alive.
Lin lan froze.
He'd never seen anything like it before.
His jaw slackened.
"Hey! Don't just stand there gawking," Shen Daolun snapped. "Read it. Learn it. Then get out there and hunt undead."
"Unless you're planning to rot here forever. Don't you want to leave the Nine Nether Immortal Realm? Don't you want your human body back?"
"Yeah, yeah… you're right," Lin lan muttered.
He nodded a bit too enthusiastically.
Clatter. Clack. Roll.
"…What the hell?"
Sweat.
How was this skeleton body this fragile?
He hurried after his skull, picked it up, and carefully shoved it back onto his neck before sitting down again—this time, much more cautiously.
The Soul-Refining Treasure Manual was divided into two sections.
The first contained only a single technique.
The Eight Desolations Soul-Refining Technique.
Though it was just one technique, it formed the very foundation of the entire manual. Page after page broke down its principles in painstaking detail—how to guide a soul flame, how to draw out soul energy, how to refine it, and how to circulate it through one's body.
The second section was something else entirely.
Dark arts.
Violent, sinister techniques that radiated an unmistakable aura of malice.
Unfortunately, they were far beyond Lin lan's current level. Without a solid foundation, attempting them now would be nothing short of suicide.
After skimming through the whole book, Lin lan flipped back to the beginning and focused exclusively on the Eight Desolations technique.
The method was terrifyingly effective.
The deeper one's cultivation, the greater their comprehension—and the more soul energy they could absorb and refine.
But it was also deeply cruel.
Absorbing death energy from undead creatures within the Nine Nether Immortal Realm was one thing.
Using it on humans or cultivators?
That was outright soul annihilation—tearing someone apart at the core and condemning them to endless torment.
Lin lan clicked his tongue.
No wonder Shen Daolun had been branded a demonic heretic.
With techniques like these, it would've been strange if he hadn't been beaten half to death.
Still, Lin lan studied diligently, memorizing every detail. Whenever something confused him, he simply asked Shen Daolun directly.
Having a walking, talking encyclopedia hovering nearby?
Pure luxury.
Time slipped by unnoticed.
The Nine Nether Immortal Realm had its own cycle of day and night.
At night, absolute darkness swallowed everything—no stars, no moon, nothing at all. Only the endless howl of wind and the hiss of drifting sand.
When the darkness finally thinned into a dull gray glow along the horizon, day arrived.
After many days inside the protective formation, Lin lan finally grasped the theory behind the Eight Desolations Soul-Refining Technique.
Now came the real test.
Practice.
At some point, the sandstorm had ended without him even realizing it.
Beyond the formation stretched a vast wasteland—endless gravel and shattered stone, massive boulders strewn about like fallen corpses. A few withered clumps of grass clung stubbornly to the earth, swaying weakly in the wind.
Bones were everywhere.
White skeletal remains lay half-buried beneath the sand, while countless skeletal figures wandered aimlessly across the wasteland.
Whenever they encountered one another, they attacked without hesitation.
No warning.
No mercy.
Bone smashed against bone. Limbs flew. One skeleton might be reduced to fragments, while the victor staggered away missing half its body.
Across the Skeleton Wasteland, battles erupted nonstop. The clatter of weapons echoed endlessly.
It felt like stepping into an ancient battlefield—one long after the blood had already dried.
Lin lan swallowed hard.
His heart began to pound.
Sure, he'd killed plenty of players in World of Warcraft.
But this?
This was real.
Can I actually pull this off?
He glanced back at Shen Daolun, who floated calmly behind him.
"Hey," Lin lan asked, "you got any flying swords? Magic weapons? Anything I can borrow?"
Shen Daolun gave a bitter smile.
"If I had one, do you really think I wouldn't hand it over?"
"The more undead you kill, the faster I recover. That benefits both of us."
"When I was ambushed during my heavenly tribulation, I burned through every combat artifact I had just to survive. What's left isn't meant for fighting."
Lin lan let out a slow breath.
Figures.
No shortcuts.
His gaze hardened as he stepped out of the immortal formation.
The moment he crossed the boundary, everything changed.
Inside, there had been no pressure—no danger at all.
Outside, a thick wave of malevolent energy crashed over him. Cold wind sliced through his bones, sharp and biting.
He scanned the wasteland.
Then he spotted one.
A newly formed skeleton.
It moved sluggishly, its bones riddled with cracks. A faint white soul flame flickered weakly within its eye sockets.
Newborn skeletons were the weakest of all undead—but also the most numerous. They stretched across the wasteland like a sea of bones.
Only about half would ever survive long enough to advance.
Lin lan was one of them.
He picked up a thick bone club nearly two meters long and crept forward.
The newborn skeleton wandered aimlessly, completely unaware.
Lin lan slipped behind it.
Then swung.
Crack!
Bone shards exploded as one claw was smashed clean off.
The skeleton hissed and spun around, eye flames flaring. Snarling, it slashed wildly with the short blade in its remaining hand.
Lin lan dodged left, the blade whistling past his ribs.
That was close.
His entire body tensed.
He'd never even killed a chicken before—now he was fighting for his life.
To say he wasn't nervous would've been a lie.
"If you don't kill it," Shen Daolun shouted, "it'll kill you!"
The skeleton pressed the attack, slashing again and again.
Lin lan mistimed a dodge.
Slash!
The blade raked across his chest. Two ribs snapped loose and went spinning.
That did it.
Kill or be killed.
He gritted his teeth and swung with everything he had.
The blade slammed into the club with a dull thud. The impact nearly tore it from his grip, his arm joints screeching as if they might snap at any moment.
We're the same tier—so why is it this strong?!
Realizing brute force wouldn't work, Lin lan changed tactics.
He moved.
Fast.
Circling. Dodging. Striking only when an opening appeared.
It worked.
The skeleton was powerful, but stiff and slow. It couldn't keep up.
Piece by piece, its body fell apart.
Finally, Lin lan raised the club high and brought it down.
Crack!
The skeleton split cleanly in two and collapsed.
"…Whew."
First kill.
A rush of triumph surged through him—just as something cold stabbed upward from below.
A piercing screech echoed as a dagger sliced straight through his groin.
The half-destroyed skeleton was still moving.
Dragging itself forward.
Still attacking.
"DAMN IT!"
Thank god I'm a skeleton right now!
Furious, Lin lan smashed downward again and again until the creature was reduced to rubble.
A pale white soul flame drifted free.
He inhaled.
The flame was drawn straight into the hollow where his nose used to be.
Pushing aside all stray thoughts, Lin lan activated the Eight Desolations Soul-Refining Technique.
Silver light shimmered.
Eight tiny vortexes formed across his body—at his brow, dantian, palms, soles, and shoulders—drawing in the soul energy.
It transformed into a death-infused spiritual energy that flowed gently through his bones.
Warm.
Comforting.
Almost blissful.
Cracks faded. Bones strengthened.
His senses sharpened.
He picked up two loose bones and pressed them into the gaps where his ribs had snapped.
White light flashed.
They fused seamlessly.
Death energy surged upward, converging in his skull.
Two tiny flames ignited in his eye sockets.
Growing.
Brightening.
Until a grain-sized, pale white soul flame burned steadily within him.
His soul flame.
Lin lan laughed.
In that moment, every last doubt vanished.
The Soul-Refining Treasure Manual wasn't just powerful.
It was terrifyingly real.