First Cultivation

The study door stood open.

When Fang Mo reached the doorway, he saw Bibi Dong already seated behind the desk.

She was not wearing her Pope robes today, but a dark purple everyday gown. Her hair fell loosely over her shoulders, and she was flipping through a Parchment Scroll.

Two cups of tea sat on the desk. One had already gone cold, indicating that she had been there for some time.

"Come in."

Bibi Dong did not even look up.

Fang Mo walked in, stopped before the desk, and bowed properly. "This disciple Fang Mo greets Teacher."

Bibi Dong set down the Parchment Scroll and glanced at him.

The majesty she had displayed in the main hall yesterday was gone from her violet eyes, leaving only scrutiny and consideration.

"Sit."

Fang Mo froze for a moment, then pulled over a chair and sat across from the desk.

With his six-year-old body, his feet still dangled far above the floor, making him look somewhat comical.

She pushed the Parchment Scroll toward Fang Mo.

"What I gave you yesterday was foundational theory. Today, we will discuss the specifics."

Fang Mo lowered his head to look.

The handwriting was sharp and neat. Bibi Dong had written it herself.

"This is the Twin Spirit Cultivation Outline I compiled." Bibi Dong's voice was calm, as though she were teaching an ordinary lesson.

"It records every precaution from the first Soul Ring to the ninth, but you must remember..."

Her tone suddenly grew more emphatic.

"This is only a reference, not a standard answer.

Twin Martial Souls have never had a standard answer, because every wielder of Twin Martial Souls has a different relationship between their two Martial Souls."

Bibi Dong's gaze settled on Fang Mo, carrying a hint of scrutiny.

"Your first Martial Soul is a humanoid spirit body, while your second is a scythe-type weapon.

By normal reasoning, spirit-body Martial Souls lean toward mental power and control, while weapon-type Martial Souls lean toward attack and destruction. The conflict between the two should not be too severe."

Her voice paused, as if she were choosing her words carefully.

"But your situation is unusual."

Fang Mo raised his head.

Bibi Dong's eyes narrowed slightly, as if she could see something deeper through him.

"Your first Martial Soul is not an ordinary spirit body. The aura contained within her is extremely similar to mine."

She did not say, "Exactly the same as mine," but Fang Mo knew what she meant.

Clearly, Bibi Dong had already sensed the aura of the Rakshasa God, yet her reaction was more restrained than Fang Mo had expected.

This meant she had vaguely guessed something, though she was not yet certain.

Fang Mo did not respond. He merely lowered his head to look at the Parchment Scroll, putting on the appearance of listening attentively.

Bibi Dong watched him for a moment without pressing further.

"Enough. Let's discuss the important matter first."

"Your second Martial Soul only manifested yesterday. That means the adjustment between the spirit body and weapon form needs time.

Therefore, until the two Martial Souls are fully coordinated, I will not allow you to attach any Soul Rings."

Fang Mo slowly raised his head, his eyes carrying just the right amount of confusion.

Bibi Dong explained.

"When Twin Martial Souls receive Soul Rings, both Martial Souls react to the Soul Ring at the same time.

If there is rejection between the two Martial Souls, the process of attaching a Soul Ring will become a disaster."

As she said this, her voice suddenly lowered, and her gaze drifted toward the window.

After a moment of silence, Fang Mo nodded seriously.

"This disciple understands."

Bibi Dong's lips moved slightly, as though she wanted to say something, but in the end, she merely gave an "Mm."

"That will be all for today. Go back and read through the material. I will test you tomorrow."

Fang Mo stood, bowed to her, then carried the Parchment Scroll toward the door.

"Wait."

Fang Mo stopped and turned back.

Bibi Dong leaned against the chair back, one hand propping up her chin as she looked at him.

"Come to the main hall after dinner. I have arranged a cultivation room for you. Starting today, you will meditate there every night."

Her tone paused, and her voice lowered somewhat.

"The cultivation room is right next to my bedchamber. If you have any problems, you can come directly to me."

Fang Mo was slightly stunned.

Next to her bedchamber.

This was not simply concern for her disciple's cultivation progress.

Fang Mo did not reveal any abnormality and merely nodded obediently.

"Yes, Teacher."

After returning to his room,

Fang Mo began reading it word by word.

Bibi Dong's handwriting was beautiful, but her annotations were densely packed. Some sections had even been marked in red ink for emphasis.

From Soul Power allocation and Martial Soul coordination to Soul Ring attachment, Fang Mo turned page after page, and his heart grew heavier.

Not because the content was difficult to understand.

Quite the opposite. This manuscript was exceptionally detailed and exceptionally thoughtful.

Every formula had undergone repeated verification, and every precaution was a lesson from personal experience.

More than ten years.

Bibi Dong had spent more than ten years turning every detour she had taken, every mistake she had made, and every pain she had endured into these densely packed words.

Then, in the original story, she gave these experiences to Yu Xiaogang.

Yu Xiaogang used them to train Tang San.

Tang San used them to become the Sea God.

Yet Bibi Dong herself was pierced to death by Tang San's sword before Jialing Pass.

What a waste.

The Spirit Sea was silent. Spirit Dong'er's phantom was like a dim cloud of mist, curled up in the deepest darkness without the slightest movement.

"Don't worry," Fang Mo said softly in his heart. "This time, no one will take these things away."

The sleeping Dong'er gave no response.

Yet Fang Mo felt that, deep within that darkness, a pair of dark red eyes stirred slightly.

At dusk, following Teacher Bibi Dong's arrangements, Fang Mo arrived at the cultivation room at the end of the side corridor of the main hall.

The cultivation room was not large, only about twice the size of his own room.

A meditation cushion sat at the center of the room. A strange ring of formation patterns had been drawn around it, allowing cultivators to enter meditation more quickly.

Fang Mo sat cross-legged on the cushion, slowly closed his eyes, and sank his spiritual power into the Sea of Consciousness.

Darkness.

Boundless darkness.

Fang Mo sat quietly in the darkness for a long time. Only after the entire Spirit Sea had become completely still did he slowly open his eyes.

He sat cross-legged within the Sea of Consciousness, then began to mobilize the Soul Power within his body.

Dark purple Soul Power flowed from his dantian like a stream, slowly traveling through his meridians and spreading throughout his body.

He did not rush to circulate his Soul Power. Instead, following the records on the Parchment Scroll, he gradually adjusted the rhythm of his breathing.

Again and again.

Fang Mo's body was still too small, and the meridians of a six-year-old were still fragile. He did not dare circulate it too quickly.

An hour later, he sensed a force.

It did not belong to Dong'er.

It was an incomparably cold force carrying the aura of death, hidden at the bottom of the Spirit Sea like a slumbering ancient beast.

This was Rakshasa Divinity.