He quickly realized that he could not cultivate the Po Technique for long periods.
His body needed time to heal, and even with the soul fused to him, recovery was not instant.
His regeneration was better than a normal human's, but it was still limited.
Bruises faded in days instead of weeks, strained muscles recovered faster, but pain did not disappear overnight.
He sighed and put the book down.
Since wasting time was not an option, he picked up the Hun Cultivation Technique instead. It was a meditation-based method, so he could practice it while resting. That alone made it tolerable.
For the next two weeks, his routine barely changed.
He alternated between pain and stillness. When his body could endure it, he practiced the Po Technique until he could no longer lift his arms properly.
When the pain became too much, he lay down, sat upright, or leaned against the wall and cultivated Hun instead.
The days blurred together.
Hun cultivation was quieter but not easier. He focused on his breathing, guiding the faint energy he could sense into his soul.
At first, it felt like trying to hold mist with his hands. Sometimes nothing happened at all. Other times, his head throbbed or his chest tightened, forcing him to stop.
Still, progress came slowly.
When the Po Cultivation Technique finally reached [ Minor Achievement ], information flooded into his mind.
He froze as he realized something important.
He had been doing it wrong.
The technique was not only about damaging the body and letting it recover. He was supposed to guide Hun energy into the damaged areas while healing.
The small cracks created by pain were meant to be channels, allowing Hun to seep into flesh, bones, and organs, strengthening them from within and speeding up recovery.
He lay back, staring at the ceiling.
'So that's why it felt inefficient,' he thought.
With this understanding, everything clicked into place.
The pain was no longer just suffering.
He sighed.
[ Name: Zhao Zhiyu ]
[ Age: 17 / 110 ]
[ Cultivation Base: Immortal ]
[ Realm: Anointed Realm — 1st Layer ]
[ Body: Anointed Realm — 1st Layer ]
[ Physique: Hundred Poison Body — Unawakened ]
[ Strength: 18 ]
[ Agility: 18 ]
[ Endurance: 22 ]
[ Vitality: 19 ]
[ Perception: 16 ]
[ Willpower: 16 ]
[ Condition: Mild Mental Strain ]
[ Soul Status: Unintegrated ]
[ Body Compatibility: Stabilized ]
[ Passive Abilities ]
[ Poison Resistance: Minor Achievement (13%) ]
[ Techniques ]
[ Tampering Body, Tampering Soul Technique: Major Achievement ]
[ Shadow Stalking Technique: Minor Achievement ]
[ Po Cultivation Technique: Minor Achievement ]
[ Hun Cultivation Technique: Minor Achievement ]
[ Notes ]
[ Soul is not fully synchronized, but control efficiency has greatly increased. ]
[ Reaching the Immortal Realm and consuming a Soul Beast has revealed a latent Physique. ]
Zhao Zhiyu stared at the panel for a long time.
He was immortal now!
The word felt unreal. There was no sudden sense of grandeur, no divine clarity. His body still hurt in familiar ways, his head still felt tired, and his thoughts were still scattered.
Yet the panel was clear.
Anointed Realm. First Layer.
His eyes moved to the age line. Seventeen out of one hundred and ten.
'So that's how long I can live now,' he thought. The number felt distant, like it belonged to someone else.
Then there was the physique.
Hundred Poison Body. Unawakened.
He frowned slightly. 'Unawakened means incomplete… or locked,' he thought.
His gaze drifted to his poison resistance. Minor Achievement. Thirteen percent.
He could guess the connection without much effort.
'So I still need more poison,' he thought, then paused. The image of asking the spider-masked woman for poison crossed his mind, and he let out a quiet laugh. The idea alone was absurd enough to lighten his mood.
After calming down, he searched through the remaining books again.
He was hoping for something practical. A solid defensive technique. Something that boosted healing speed. Anything that would let him survive longer without relying on timing or luck.
Most of what he found disappointed him.
Many techniques were flashy but shallow.
Complicated movements meant to look impressive rather than be effective.
Others relied heavily on ambushes or poisons he did not have access to. Third-rate assassination techniques, at best.
In the end, he picked a throwing technique.
It was simple. Direct. No fancy requirements.
It focused on precision, control, and consistency.
He stood up, adjusted his breathing, and began practicing.
There was nothing dramatic about it. He threw small objects at the wall, retrieved them, and threw them again.
Over and over.
His movements were calm, measured, almost boring.
But that was fine.
'Staying alive is already hard enough,' he thought. 'I can't be choosy now, can I?'
Zhao Zhiyu tested his body after stabilizing his cultivation.
He did not do anything dramatic. He clenched his fist, relaxed it, then punched the air lightly. The sound startled him.
When he struck the wall with controlled force, the impact traveled back through his arm, but his bones did not ache.
His muscles absorbed it naturally.
He jumped once and nearly hit the ceiling.
He stopped immediately.
His heartbeat was steady, his breathing calm. His body felt dense and responsive, as if every movement carried weight behind it.
The increase in endurance was even more obvious. Movements that would have exhausted him before now felt trivial.
'So this is what being immortal actually means,' he thought. 'Basically I'm super human.'
After confirming that his body would not break itself, he returned to training. He focused on the throwing technique he had chosen earlier.
He practiced angle, grip, timing, and release. Stones, metal fragments, anything small enough to throw became his tools.
...
When the panel finally responded, he exhaled in relief.
[ Throwing Technique: Entry Level ]
'Good,' he thought. 'At least it works like the others.'
Knowing he could now rely on experience points instead of blind repetition eased his mind.
He continued practicing until fatigue set in, then shifted back to cultivation.
For the next week, his days followed a strict rhythm.
Po cultivation when his body could take it. Hun cultivation when it could not.
The Po Technique no longer felt as inefficient as before. Guiding Hun into damaged areas noticeably improved healing speed.
Bruises faded faster. Muscle strain no longer lingered as long. The Hun Technique, on the other hand, grew steadier and more refined.
The flow became smoother, less chaotic, and easier to maintain.
By the end of the week, both techniques advanced again.
[ Po Cultivation Technique: Minor Achievement]
[ Exp: 268 ]
[ Hun Cultivation Technique: Minor Achievement ]
[ Exp: 281 ]
Zhao Zhiyu sat down afterward, sweat dripping from his chin.
He was exhausted, but it was a clean kind of exhaustion.
'Slow,' he thought.
The gong sounded again.
Bang!
The moment it rang out, Zhao Zhiyu's body tensed on instinct. The vibration slammed into his senses far harder than before.
His enhanced perception caught every layer of it, the low hum traveling through the walls, the floor, even his bones.
A sharp shiver ran down his spine before he could stop it.
He clicked his tongue quietly.
'Still hate that thing,' he thought.
All this time, he had been buried in his own routine. Training, cultivating, healing, repeating.
He had almost forgotten that this place did not belong to him, that someone else still decided when he moved and when he stopped.
The call was clear.
He stood up, straightened his clothes, and took one last look at the quiet room.
Then he stepped out into the corridor. The metal door closed behind him with a familiar clang.
As he walked, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly along the passage. The torches ahead flickered, their light uneven against the walls. He already knew where this was going.
The spider mask.
He let out a slow breath.
'This is ridiculous,' he thought. 'I finally get some momentum, and here we go again.'
Still, his feet kept moving. In this place, refusing a summons was not bravery. It was suicide.
Zhao Zhiyu wondered what she wanted this time.
When he entered the familiar room, it was already filled with people. The same shelves. The same scattered books.
Everyone from the Mind Department was already there, standing or sitting quietly. The atmosphere felt heavier than usual.
Then she entered.
The spider mask woman stepped inside, and a strong bloody smell followed her in.
Zhao Zhiyu reflexively tilted his head away. Even with restraint, the scent reached him easily. It was thick, metallic, and fresh.
She clapped her hands lightly.
"Hello everyone. It's been a while, huh?"
Her voice was cheerful, as always, but it did nothing to ease the tension.
She looked around the room, clearly pleased. "And wow. All of you are fully fledged immortals now. How amazing."
Zhao Zhiyu glanced around. Only then did he truly notice it. The pressure in the room was different. Subtle, but real.
Everyone here was at least in the same realm as him. Anointed Realm, First Layer.
He felt a faint sting of bitterness.
'So even after all that effort… there are still people who keep up naturally,' he thought. 'Figures.'
He did not linger on it.
Talent was never something he trusted anyway.
The spider mask woman continued, her tone casual. "Since you're all immortals now, I suppose it's time I tell you where you actually are."
She paused deliberately.
"This assassin group—this former sect—is called Crescent Moon."
Zhao Zhiyu felt the atmosphere shift instantly. He did not recognize the name, but several people stiffened. A few inhaled sharply. Some faces grew pale.
'So it means something,' he thought. 'I should ask them later...'
She laughed softly and pulled open the front of her clothing just enough to reveal her chest. On her left side was a black crescent moon tattoo, intersected by a sharp cross.
"Isn't it pretty?" she said lightly.
Zhao Zhiyu did not think so.
She straightened and looked at them again, her masked gaze sweeping across the room.
"Now," she said, still smiling, "you're all immortals."
Her voice lowered slightly.
"And immortals need to be shackled."
He felt goosebumps.