Styx Death Scythe

"Buzz—!"

Drawn by an unseen force, the Soul Ring instantly transformed into a surging purple torrent, carrying the Wailing Banshee's residual energy as it crazily flooded into Castorice's small body.

"Argh—!"

Intense pain erupted in an instant, far beyond anything she had imagined.

Although her Chrysos Heir body was far more resilient than that of children her age, absorbing a thousand-year Soul Ring beyond her level—especially one from a top-tier death-aspected Soul Beast like the Wailing Banshee—brought energy so violent that it nearly burst her slender meridians and tore apart her consciousness.

The icy energy pierced through her limbs and bones like countless frozen needles.

All color instantly drained from Castorice's little face. Her body trembled violently, and fine beads of cold sweat continuously seeped out, nearly soaking her dress.

She gritted her teeth so hard that she bit her lower lip bloody, pale golden blood slowly trickling down.

Feiyan watched quietly from the side, her expression grave.

She could sense the force of that energy assault. Even she had to admit that for a six-year-old child absorbing a Soul Ring for the first time, it was torture straight from hell.

She stood ready to intervene at any moment—not to interrupt the process, but in case Castorice truly neared collapse, when she might be able to forcibly save her life.

Though that would mean all their previous efforts had been wasted, and Castorice's value in Ye Xishui's eyes would plummet.

Time passed bit by bit. The only sounds in the secluded valley were the surge of energy and Castorice's uncontrollable, pained gasps.

"I want to become stronger..."

"I want to become the strongest..."

"No one can control my fate..."

Amid boundless agony, what kept Castorice from collapsing was the obsession deep within her soul—the unwillingness to remain ordinary, her desire for power and freedom.

That obsession was like a lighthouse amid a storm, guarding her final sliver of clarity and allowing her to use sheer willpower to guide the violent energy. Bit by bit, it washed through and widened her meridians, merged into her Soul Power, and painstakingly fused with her Archon of Death martial soul.

The process lasted a full two hours.

For a Soul Master absorbing a Soul Ring for the first time, that was an astonishingly long time, further proving just how perilous and difficult the process had been.

Finally, when the last trace of energy had been completely absorbed, the violent aura around Castorice gradually settled.

The deep purple Soul Ring appeared beneath her feet like a docile pet, silently pulsing.

She had succeeded!

She had absorbed a thousand-year Soul Ring beyond her level as her very first Soul Ring.

Castorice slowly opened her eyes. Within her originally amethyst-like pupils, there seemed to be an added trace of deep, secluded deathly aura.

The fluctuations of Soul Power around her had clearly grown much stronger. She had officially become a one-ring Soul Master.

"How does it feel, little Saintess?"

Seeing that she had succeeded, Feiyan also let out a breath of relief and asked with interest.

"What Soul Skill did you gain?"

Castorice did not answer directly. Instead, she slowly raised her right hand.

As the purple thousand-year Soul Ring beneath her feet flashed, dense deathly energy gathered and took shape in her hand.

Within moments, a weapon of strange and magnificent design appeared in her grasp.

It was a scythe, dark purple from end to end.

Its shaft was long and slender, as though forged from the fusion of dark metal and the bones of some unknown creature. Fine black patterns like butterfly antennae wound around it.

The scythe's blade was huge and curved, its graceful arc radiating extreme sharpness and danger. Strange veins resembling butterfly wings ran along its surface, gleaming with an eerie violet light.

The entire scythe looked both like a murderous weapon meant to reap lives and a meticulously carved work of art steeped in the aesthetics of death—the Styx Death Scythe.

"This is my first Soul Skill."

Castorice spoke softly. Her voice still carried a trace of weakness, but it was exceptionally calm.

Feiyan raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised. "A weapon-type Soul Skill? That's rather rare. Still... it suits your death attribute. What does it do? Enhance sharpness? Or inflict deathly corrosion?"

A faint, somewhat dangerous curve touched Castorice's lips.

"As for the effect... why don't you experience it yourself, Senior Feiyan?"

At those words, a playful gleam flashed through Feiyan's crimson eyes.

She had absolute confidence in her own strength. A little Soul Master who had only just gained her first Soul Skill—even if her martial soul was unusual—how could she possibly harm Feiyan in the slightest?

Without a care, she extended her right hand, pressed her fair index and middle fingers together, and smiled.

"Sure. Let me see what mysteries the little Saintess's Soul Skill holds."

Castorice did not stand on ceremony. Gripping the Styx Death Scythe tightly, she gave Feiyan's joined fingers what seemed like a casual swing.

A streak of dark violet blade light flashed past, astonishingly fast.

As expected, Feiyan did not evade. The instant the scythe reached her, she precisely pinched its tip lightly between her index and middle fingers, seemingly catching it with ease.

It felt like catching a falling feather.

"The speed is decent, and the sharpness is also—"

Feiyan had just begun to comment when her words abruptly stopped.

She frowned slightly and looked down at her fingertips.

There, on the pad of the index finger that had caught the blade tip, was a wound even finer than a strand of hair. An extremely tiny bead of blood was slowly seeping out.

To a Super Douluo, such an injury was utterly negligible—not even as serious as a mosquito bite.

Under normal circumstances, with her immense vitality and circulating Soul Power, such a tiny wound would have healed in an instant.

Yet after several breaths, that minute wound remained. The tiny bead of blood clung there without dispersing, showing no sign of healing whatsoever.

The playful smile on Feiyan's face gradually faded, replaced by surprise and gravity.

She could feel an extremely concealed yet exceptionally stubborn deathly energy lodged in that tiny wound like a parasite clinging to bone. It prevented the wound from naturally healing, and even when she mobilized her Soul Power to disperse it, the effect was minimal.

"This is...?" Feiyan raised her head and looked at Castorice.

Castorice withdrew the Styx Death Scythe, and the magnificent scythe dissolved into specks of purple light.

Looking at the tiny wound on Feiyan's finger that could not heal, she explained softly.

"This is my first Soul Skill—the Styx Death Scythe. Its effect is very simple: anyone injured by this death scythe will find that their wound cannot heal naturally, nor can it be cured or purified by conventional means."

She paused, then continued.

"Of course, this 'inability to heal' is not permanent. Its duration depends on how much deathly power I imbue into the scythe when I attack. With my current Soul Power, if I use my full strength, I can keep a wound from healing for at least one day."

One day without healing.

Feiyan's heart jolted.

For ordinary people, or even low-level Soul Masters, an unhealable wound—even if it began as a minor injury—could be fatal if it kept bleeding and could not be treated.