Under the cold gazes of the many Dao Integration Divine Lords, Jiang Ding remained perfectly composed. He closed his eyes and regulated his breathing.
Threads of spiritual energy and light from the sun, moon, and stars surged in from every direction, settling over him to form a gauzy robe of starlight. A Solar Divine Tree burst from the earth and rose straight into the sky, its blue-gold trunk spreading in all directions, its canopy opening like an umbrella to shade tens of thousands of kilometers.
This place became the sun's abode.
Jiang Ding sat cross-legged.
Threads of solar essence and distilled starlight fell upon him, forming tender pink patterns of flesh. They wove together without cease until a layer of skin as soft as a baby's covered his body.
In just a few breaths, he had regained a normal human appearance. No longer a skeleton, he wore a blue-white Daoist robe.
Of course, this was not recovery. He merely looked human again.
The bodies of spell cultivators and sword cultivators did not need to be as sturdy as those of body cultivators—Vajra-hard, undying, and impervious to ten thousand tribulations. Yet they, too, embodied the crystallized wisdom and mysteries of the immortal path.
They were like a warship's supercomputing chips: no match for a hammer in sheer toughness, but invaluable for amplifying spells and sword arts, divine sense and sword intent; for drawing in spiritual energy and the light of the sun, moon, and stars; for storing spiritual energy and nurturing the soul...
Such intricate functions could not be restored simply by using a life spell to grow a layer of flesh.
It would take at least centuries of tempering, constant refinement with divine sense and magical power, and cultivation of specific arts and secret techniques before he could forge a