Lying low

Those terrifying waves of perception, heralding death and finality, hung overhead like the sword of Damocles. They prowled through the depths of Guixu, sweeping the area for a long time before finally receding, seemingly reluctant, and disappearing. But Jingtian knew they had not left Guixu. They had merely expanded their search into deeper or more remote regions. Sea God Island's hunting squads, like the most patient hunters, combed through this land where life met its end, searching inch by inch through every corner where their "prey" might hide.

Jingtian maintained his mimicry and assimilation state, almost indistinguishable from a "stone," not daring to make the slightest move. Amid that crushing oppression and silence, time flowed so slowly it seemed almost frozen.

One day, two days... one month, two months...

The hunting squads did not search continuously. They concentrated on one area before moving to the next, leaving intervals between their sweeps. During these "safe periods," Jingtian continued using that tiny spark of spirituality at his poison source's core to passively absorb Guixu's deathly still energy at an agonizingly slow pace. He sustained his faint thread of life and tried to wield that energy like the finest surgical blade, repairing, little by little, the most lethal wounds within his body—the ones affecting the circulation of his life origin.

The process was painful and despairing. Guixu's deathly still energy was steeped in inertia and finality. Using it to restore vitality was no different from drinking poison to quench his thirst. Its efficiency was appallingly low, and it brought constant cold and a sensation of erosion at the level of his soul. But Jingtian had no other choice. This was the only "water source" in his desperate predicament.

A year passed in endless darkness and torment.

The hunting squads seemed to have found no clear clues in this region, or perhaps they believed the poison beast had already died somewhere deeper. Their searches became less frequent, and their probing gradually shifted outward. Yet Jingtian still dared not let down his guard. He knew how keen a Titled Douluo's perception was. One careless slip would plunge him beyond all redemption.

He began trying to control that spark of poison source spirituality with greater precision. Rather than merely absorbing energy passively, he attempted to "guide" Guixu's energy, prioritizing injuries that impaired his basic mobility—the muscles and nerves connected to his arms, for instance, and the core pathways sustaining basic soul power circulation. At the same time, he cautiously began "filtering" free-floating energy particles from his surroundings, absorbing those that were relatively less violent and slightly less inert to replenish his nearly depleted reserves of soul power.

In the second year, his condition improved ever so slightly. His most lethal wounds had largely stabilized and no longer worsened. His two severely injured arms regained some sensation and a faint measure of control. A tiny amount of soul power returned. Though he still could not perform even the most basic poison techniques, he had at least emerged from complete "suspended death" and could engage in more complex thought and make minute adjustments to his body.

Drawing on the properties of Guixu's deathly still energy and his understanding of poison erosion, he began trying to construct a more stable, more concealed "environmental camouflage layer" over his body. This was not simple mimicry. He adjusted his aura, soul power fluctuations, and even the radiations of his life until they resonated so closely with Guixu's surrounding deathly still environment that they were almost one with it. This demanded an extraordinary understanding and command of energy and the environment. The process was arduous and progress slow, but it was the key to surviving in this land of death.

In the third year, when the hunting squads' presence had almost entirely vanished from this region—perhaps they had shifted elsewhere or temporarily withdrawn from Guixu—Jingtian finally completed his preliminary "camouflage layer." Now, provided he did not actively release soul power or poison, even a Soul Douluo probing him at close range would struggle to distinguish him from a genuine Guixu rock or deposit of condensed energy, unless they touched him directly or performed a deep soul scan.

More importantly, after three years of painstaking, almost self-torturous recovery and adaptation, his injuries had finally healed by roughly thirty percent. His cultivation stabilized at the sixty-thousand-year level—below his peak, but no longer declining and now slowly rising. About twenty percent of his soul power had returned, enough to sustain basic movement and low-intensity activity. Though his poison source remained depleted, the spark of spirituality at its core seemed to have undergone an indescribable change after three years of constantly "breathing in and out" Guixu's deathly still energy. It had become more condensed and profound, and its understanding of "poison" and "deathly stillness" seemed to have deepened. His two severely injured arms regained half their function, while small, fragile buds of flesh had sprouted at the bases of his two severed arms.

At last, he had crawled back from the brink of death and regained basic mobility and the ability to protect himself.

It was time to leave this godforsaken place.

But not to return to the Western Silent Sea Abyss immediately.

After three years of torment between life and death, and three years of reflection, Jingtian's thinking was exceptionally clear. In his current state—with sixty-thousand-year cultivation, twenty percent of his soul power, severe injuries not yet healed, and his poison source unrestored—crossing the endless deep sea straight back to the Western Silent Sea Abyss would mean certain death if he encountered any powerful sea soul beast or human patrol along the way. And who knew whether Sea God Island still had ambushes or surveillance waiting at the Western Silent Sea Abyss?

He had to obtain the Soul Bone, but first, he had to survive long enough to claim it and possess the strength to assimilate it.

First, restore my strength. At the very least, I need to recover to over seventy-thousand-year cultivation, restore most of my soul power and poison source, and master the concealment technique, Guixu Assimilation, that I developed over these three years, Jingtian silently resolved. Then, on the return journey, I'll find suitable targets to hunt and devour, replenish what I expend, and test my recovered combat strength.

First, he needed to leave this energy-starved zone of deathly stillness deep within Guixu and head toward its outer regions, where the energy was relatively more "active"—though still chaotic and dangerous, of course. Those regions remained perilous, but at least they contained strange creatures adapted to Guixu's environment that he could hunt for life essence and soul power. The turbulent energy in the outer regions would also conceal his movements more effectively.

After determining his direction through his faint perception of Guixu's energy currents and his hazy memories of the route he had taken while fleeing, Jingtian began to move.

He no longer charged recklessly as he had before. Instead, like the most cunning ghost of the deep sea, he pushed his Guixu Assimilation camouflage to its limit, hugging the shadows of rock walls and gullies and using the natural disturbances of the turbulent energy to move silently toward the outskirts. He was not fast, but he was safe and concealed.

Along the way, he did indeed encounter some return ruins creatures. There were Shadow Leeches, shaped like shadows, that could merge into darkness to launch ambushes; enormous Energy-Devouring Ancient Turtles with astonishing defenses that survived by devouring rocks and energy residue; and swarms of Mind-Bewitching Demon Insects that released chaotic mental fluctuations...

At his peak, these return ruins creatures, whose strength was at most equivalent to twenty- or thirty-thousand-year cultivation in the outside world, would have posed no threat to Jingtian. In his current state, however, any battle could cause an unnecessary disturbance or even expose his whereabouts.

He did his utmost to avoid them, taking detours whenever possible. When avoidance proved impossible, he struck with thunderbolt force, using his partially restored soul power and poison erosion, along with his familiarity with the environment, to kill swiftly! He sought no flourish, only the fastest possible end to the fight, then devoured their essence and immediately fled far away, erasing his traces.

The life essence of these return ruins creatures was exceedingly strange, filled with inert and chaotic qualities. Absorbing it was inefficient, and refining it required more effort. But small gains accumulated. Combined with the energy he slowly drew from the environment, Jingtian's cultivation and soul power began recovering at a visibly noticeable pace compared with the previous three years.

Half a year later, when he finally reached Guixu's outskirts—a region where the turbulent energy was even more violent, but traces of the "familiar" deep sea had begun to appear—his cultivation had recovered to sixty-five thousand years, his soul power to forty percent, and his poison source to thirty percent. His injuries were mostly healed, and his new arms had grown to roughly a third of their full length.

He found a concealed cave in a reef, half enveloped by a violent energy vortex, and took temporary shelter there. The relatively chaotic energy interfered with detection, while its proximity to the outskirts allowed him to observe movements outside and occasionally venture out to hunt "ordinary" sea soul beasts with stronger soul power that had strayed from the normal deep sea into Guixu's fringes.

He began deliberately hunting sea soul beasts over fifty thousand years old. Though he still had to lay careful traps, exploit the environment, and sometimes even use his partially restored Dan-Devour—which consumed so much that he avoided it unless necessary—each successful hunt and devouring greatly accelerated his recovery.

At the same time, he constantly honed his Guixu Assimilation technique and attempted to incorporate certain properties of Guixu's deathly still energy into his own poison power. Progress was slow, but he could feel that his poison seemed to have acquired a hint of "stillness" and "withering," making it harder to detect and dispel.

Another half year passed.

When Jingtian awoke from a session of deep cultivation, soul power surged through his body like a mighty river. The dim glow of his poison source was profound and contained, and terrifying strength lay within the movements of his eight arms—the two newly grown ones had also reached most of their full length. He knew—

His strength had essentially recovered!

Cultivation: seventy-two thousand years—a slight improvement!

Soul power: eighty percent restored!

Poison source: seventy percent restored, with improved quality from incorporating a trace of Guixu's deathly still properties!

Dan-Devour: usable with caution, but still extremely draining.

Concealment: Guixu Assimilation mastered, greatly enhancing concealment in complex, chaotic environments.

Injuries: essentially healed; new arms fully grown and tougher than before.

It was time.

It was time to return to the place where his dream had begun and claim the ancient Scorpion Tail Soul Bone—the treasure that would bring another qualitative transformation to his poison arts and give him the true means to contend with the strongest experts!

Jingtian slowly swam out of the cave where he had taken shelter. Dark purple ring patterns shimmered in the faint light of Guixu's outskirts, and his icy gaze—his perception—turned toward the Western Silent Sea Abyss.

Three years lying low, wresting life from a land of death.

Now he returned bearing hatred, his venomous fangs sharper than ever.

Western Silent Sea Abyss, I'm back.