Deep within the Ancient Spirit Realm, beneath a shattered cliff…
Wisps of pale-blue light drifted from cracks in the stone walls, converging in a hidden cavern. The glow pulsed like ripples on water—so faint that only divine sense could detect it.
At the heart of the cavern floated a shard of emerald jade, no larger than a palm. Ancient runes shimmered faintly across its surface, blinking in and out of existence, resonating with the world itself.
—A fragment of the Spirit Source had appeared.
…
At that moment, Ye Chen moved swiftly through the forest, divine sense fanned out like starlight.
"This fluctuation… it's growing stronger."
His eyes narrowed.
The Spirit Source was a remnant of a long-lost civilization—pure elemental essence from the dawn of creation. Even in his former cultivation world, it was a legendary rarity, usually found in broken spirit veins or dimensional rifts.
Now, he had locked onto its location—just beyond a chasm, three hundred meters ahead.
"If I can refine it, my spirit sword will ascend to true artifact form, and I can finally step from the peak of Qi Refining… into Foundation Establishment."
He moved faster.
But as he crossed a ruined bridge, Ye Chen's divine sense flared.
"…They've come."
On the ridgeline ahead, more than a dozen figures appeared—battle cultivators and mages from noble houses, sects, and the royal academy. Each radiated power and ambition.
Leading them was a silver-robed mage holding a staff—Ruan Cang, deputy envoy of the Royal Alchemy Academy.
He looked down with a sneer. "So you're the troublemaker everyone's whispering about. Let's see how long you last."
Ye Chen said nothing. His spirit sword pulsed softly behind him.
Then—a streak of purple light shot across the sky.
It was Princess Ye Qiluo, ninth of the royal line. Elegant and cold, she wore violet robes embroidered with a coiled azure dragon.
"Well, well. Still alive, Seventh Brother?" Her voice was mocking."Looks like dying isn't your style. Stirring up trouble is."
Ye Chen gave her a glance, then simply nodded in return.
Far above them, a faint curtain of light shimmered in the sky—a sign that sect emissaries outside the realm were watching through secret formations.
The Spirit Source had drawn the eyes of all powers.
Ye Chen, however, did not panic. Instead, he sat cross-legged, drawing a spiritual formation to suppress his aura completely.
To others, the Spirit Source might be a rare treasure.
But to him—it was a foundation of his Dao.
He closed his eyes and reached out with his divine sense.
Instantly, the jade fragment responded—resonating with his soul.
Buzz!
The spirit sword trembled violently. New runes blazed to life along its spine. Its aura surged to a new level.
[Notice: Spirit Sword has acquired "Soulbone Mark," advancing toward Artifact-grade spirit weapon.]
His internal energy surged. The threshold of Qi Refining had been shattered. He stood one step from Foundation Establishment.
"One more push…"
But suddenly, the energy around the Spirit Source flared—chaotic, as if someone else was trying to forcefully seize it.
"I can't let them interfere."
Ye Chen's eyes snapped open. Light glinted in his gaze as he launched himself forward toward the canyon.
At that moment
"Attack!"
Ruan Cang gave the order.
The waiting disciples released talismans, forming chains of fire and light—an interlocking web of suppression.
From above, Princess Qiluo unleashed three gleaming Soulfreezing Needles, sealing off Ye Chen's descent path.
Everyone wanted the Spirit Source. No one wanted Ye Chen to have it.
But Ye Chen raised two fingers and pointed forward.
"Break."
The spirit sword shot forth like lightning, slicing through the talismans and shattering the soul needles mid-air.
He forced his way through the blockade, diving straight into the canyon below.
Ruan Cang's face twisted. "He broke through?!"
Princess Qiluo's expression turned icy. "If he claims the Source… we'll all be humiliated."
…
Meanwhile, at the canyon floor
Ye Chen stood alone before the Spirit Source fragment.
His spirit sword hovered beside him, its aura stirring the ancient runes etched in the stone walls.
He raised his hand. Threads of spiritual energy wove from his palm, gently lifting the jade shard from its cradle.
The fragment floated toward him.
Behind him—a storm of enemies gathered.
And yet Ye Chen stood firm.
He had no allies.
He had no escape.
All he had… was his sword.