Effects Are Outstanding, Breaking Through Spiritual Pressure Level

Several days later, Siwei Yan once again took out the original manuscripts of The Boy and Killer from the hidden compartment in his room.

The moment he touched the pages, a flicker of delight flashed through his eyes.

The "resonant spiritual power" gathered upon the manuscripts was purer and more immense than anything from the past half month—indeed, it rivaled the total accumulated over the previous two years!

"Looks like... publishing standalone volumes really does have an extraordinary effect."

He murmured to himself, then decisively placed his palm over the pages.

Pure, gentle spiritual power continuously flowed up his arm and into the depths of his soul.

He could clearly feel the barrier around his spiritual pressure trembling slightly beneath repeated impacts, constantly widening and strengthening.

However, when the final trace of spiritual power had been completely absorbed, Yan Si slowly opened his eyes, his brow faintly furrowed.

Still not enough...

His Spiritual Pressure Level remained firmly at the peak of the Sixth-level, forever just one step short of crossing that crucial threshold.

Fifth-level Spiritual Pressure was the minimum requirement for serving as a Third Seat or even a vice-captain. It was also the beginning of a qualitative transformation.

The story of The Boy had been serialized for too long, and after a half-month hiatus, whatever resonance it could produce had long since been produced.

Even the most loyal readers would gradually grow numb to the emotional fluctuations brought by repeated readings.

To break through this barrier, he needed a stronger, more fundamental "seed of spiritual power" as a catalyst... at the very least, a captain-level figure's profound resonance.

He hid away the completely drained manuscript of The Boy, then took out another manuscript—The Killer of Meteor City.

Unlike the warm radiance of The Boy, the spiritual power on this book's cover was a deep, inky black, ceaselessly swirling and churning.

When he opened the first page, the preface poem's handwriting had become crimson like blood, as though it had just been written in fresh blood, emanating a heart-palpitating aura.

At the sight, Yan Si could not help giving that little fatty a mental thumbs-up.

Omaeda Kichiyo... his ability to get things done is terrifying!

Without hesitation, the other party had allocated twenty printing lines and flooded the market with ten thousand hardcover copies of The Boy in just five days.

He had then immediately switched production lines and printed one hundred thousand copies of The Killer of Meteor City at full capacity, more than half of which had already been sold.

Everything had gone exactly as he expected: The Boy, serving as both the price anchor and brand benchmark, had completed its mission exceptionally well.

Because the first print run had stopped, secondhand prices had even been driven up to four thousand rings per copy. The price had doubled within days—a true financial miracle.

And when The Killer of Meteor City, carrying that bloody and razor-sharp temperament, hit the market, it immediately triggered an unprecedented buying frenzy. Some petty nobles had even attempted to hoard copies for speculation, buying huge quantities in one go.

Heh, how naive, Yan Si sneered inwardly.

The Killer of Meteor City was meant for the mass-market bestseller route. The moment the hundred thousand copies sold out, more would be printed. Wanted to get rich off this? The market would soon teach them a lesson.

Steadying himself, Yan Si held the manuscript of The Killer of Meteor City in both hands and slowly closed his eyes.

The next moment, the inky-black spiritual power on the cover surged wildly into his body through his palms!

The blood-red poetic script on the pages transformed into a bloody mist, carrying a thick scent of rust as it burrowed into his nostrils!

"Ugh...!"

An intense impact instantly swept through his entire body!

It was not a gentle warm current, but countless grains of sand mixed with ice chips, violently scraping through the meridians of his spiritual body!

It came with fragments of powerful negative emotions—violence, despair, and a crazed urge to kill—constantly battering his spiritual body.

Absorbing spiritual power dominated by negative emotions was anything but pleasant.

Yan Si gritted his teeth tightly, veins bulging at his temples as he endured without crying out.

Yet at the same time, the once unbreakable barrier of Sixth-level Spiritual Pressure finally let out a distinct "crack" beneath the assault of that violent force!

"Boom—!"

A spiritual pressure several times stronger than before erupted uncontrollably from his body, instantly forming a small spiritual storm. Papers flew wildly through the room, while the furniture creaked and groaned!

But the outburst lasted only an instant. With sheer force of will, Yan Si immediately forced the leaking spiritual pressure back under control and compressed it into his body!

Everything returned to stillness.

Yan Si slowly opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing through them before vanishing.

He lightly clenched his fist, feeling the brand-new power surging within him, along with the lightness and strength of having "broken free from a shell" on the level of his soul.

Fifth-level Spiritual Pressure!

At last... he had crossed this dividing line!

A smile bloomed across his face.

He hid away the manuscript of Killer, whose spiritual power had been absorbed, then took a heavy money pouch from the cabinet.

Inside was his first share of the profits, a full eighty thousand rings!

This was only the beginning! Once the later payments were settled, the profits would grow bigger and bigger like a snowball!

From today onward, Spiritual Intoxication? I'll buy two jugs at a time! Drink one... and save the other for tomorrow!

Happily weighing the money pouch in his hand, he pushed open the door and headed toward Runlin An Commercial Street.

Looking up, he felt that tonight's moon was especially bright and round, as if it too were celebrating for him.

Meanwhile, at the training grounds of the Eleventh Division barracks of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

"Ha ha ha! Didn't you eat? Your punches are limp as noodles!" A bold, booming voice echoed across the training grounds.

The Eleventh Division's captain, Kurayashiki Kenpachi—the battle maniac who bore the name "Kenpachi," symbolizing the "strongest" of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads—stood at the center of the grounds.

He was tall and powerfully built, yet his face and demeanor unexpectedly carried the cheerfulness and warmth of a friendly older brother next door. Not a trace of killing intent could be sensed from him as he jovially guided his division members through sparring sessions brutal enough to be called carnage.

"C-Captain... I really can't go on..."

"My bones... my bones are falling apart..."

Exhausted division members lay sprawled all over the ground, each one bruised and battered, their groans filling the area.

"Hey, hey, you're down already? When you're out carrying out missions, Hollows won't go easy on you!"

Kurayashiki Kenpachi stood with his hands on his hips, his tone teasing but utterly free of blame.

Though the fallen division members claimed they could not continue, they still gritted their teeth and struggled to get back up.

That was the spirit of the Eleventh Division. Under the leadership of someone as strong and gentle as Kurayashiki Kenpachi, its members instead erupted with even greater fighting spirit.

"Captain Kurayashiki."

A calm voice came from the edge of the training grounds.

Vice-Captain Ashido stood there, holding a novel with a dark, fierce cover—The Killer of Meteor City.

"Hmm? Ashido, what is it?" Kurayashiki Kenpachi turned his head.

"Have you read this book?" Ashido held up the cover for him to see.