Ten-Thousand-Year Black Soul Ring · Level Thirty-Four

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The Fierce Bear King had just squeezed the front half of its body out of the cave when Nan Feng darted out from behind a tree.

He pushed off with his left foot and stepped forward with his right, holding his short staff across his body.

He stood twenty paces directly in front of the cave entrance, where the bear king would see him the moment it emerged.

The morning mist had yet to disperse, and the light in the woods was gray and dim. Those small, dark-brown eyes locked onto him.

The bear king did not charge immediately. It lowered its head and sniffed with its nose against the ground.

Nan Feng held his breath.

The bear king raised a forepaw and stepped on the first Soul Power bomb.

The earth burst open, sending gravel flying as vines sprang up and coiled around its foreleg.

The vines snapped in less than half a breath. Gravel struck its armored plates without leaving a mark.

The bear king roared and charged at Nan Feng.

The second and third bombs exploded in succession. Vines snapped and gravel flew, but it slowed for only half a breath.

Nan Feng never got an opening to circle around its flank.

The bear king reached him, its forepaw already raised.

The blow sent Nan Feng flying. His back struck a tree trunk, snapping it in half. He fell into a heap of dead leaves, a metallic sweetness welling up in his mouth.

The bear king did not stop. It turned and charged again, each step leaving a shallow pit in the ground.

Nan Feng pushed himself up against the broken tree and swallowed the blood. The Compression Method ran at full speed through his meridians.

His Soul Power flowed twice as fast. The Soul Power in his dantian compressed to its limit, then burst forth.

A cyan tower shadow condensed into an illusory tower and slammed into the bear king's chest.

The Power of Mountain Suppression's output was nearly twice as strong as when the first floor was half-open. The tower struck with a solid force, driving the bear king back two steps. Its forepaws gouged two deep trenches in the ground before it steadied itself.

A web of fine cracks spread across the armored plates on its chest, and dark red blood seeped through the gaps.

Nan Feng charged forward and leaped onto the side of the bear king's lowered head.

He swung the iron hammer in his left hand down at the seam between the plates at the base of its single horn.

One blow. Two blows. Three blows.

The plates shattered, and the horn tilted to one side.

The bear king howled in pain and tossed its head. Nan Feng gripped the long fur behind its ear and refused to let go.

The bear king spun in place, smashing its head against tree trunks and the mountainside.

Flying stones scraped Nan Feng's left arm raw, tearing open his flesh. Blood ran down his arm and dripped onto its grayish-brown fur.

He gritted his teeth and held on, channeling Soul Power into his right arm as he drew his short staff.

He thrust the staff into a gap between the plates on the side of its neck that had been pulled open by its thrashing.

It sank in halfway.

The bear king's roar cut short. Its limbs stiffened for a breath, then it toppled onto its side, kicking up a spray of dirt and dead leaves.

Only Nan Feng's own panting remained in the woods.

He lay atop the bear's corpse, blood flowing from his left arm and seeping from his mouth. His back hurt with every breath.

But he was alive.

A black Soul Ring floated up above the bear's corpse. Its black was deep and solid, without a trace of any other color, and its Soul Power fluctuations were nearly twice as dense as those of an ordinary Ten Thousand Year Soul Ring.

Twelve thousand years.

Nan Feng slid off the bear's corpse and sat on the ground.

The threshold between level thirty and level thirty-one had loosened as soon as the Soul Ring appeared. All he had to do was sit down and guide it, and he could cross it.

But he did not move.

Old Huai's voice came from the crack. "Don't rush."

"Your Soul Power is at level thirty, and the Soul Ring is twelve thousand years old. There's a huge gap between the two. An ordinary Soul Master would be blown apart by a gap like that."

"Your tower can suppress it, but you'll have to push the Compression Method to its limit. A Ten Thousand Year Soul Ring's energy density is nearly ten times that of a thousand-year ring. The first floor is fully open, but the second has only just opened. Whether the output can keep up is still unknown."

Nan Feng spat out the blood in his mouth and took a deep breath.

He pushed the Compression Method to its limit. His Soul Power flowed nearly three times as fast, and the mass of Qi in his dantian compressed to the utmost.

He sat upright with his legs crossed, sank his consciousness into his dantian, and first examined his body.

The wound on his left arm was deep, its flesh torn and curled back, the blood congealed into a dark red scab. At least two bones in his back were cracked, and a dull ache filled his chest when he breathed. Fine cracks lined his meridian walls, hidden injuries caused by the impact of that blow.

Absorbing a Ten Thousand Year Soul Ring in this condition doubled the risk.

But he had no way back. His Soul Power was stuck at level thirty; if he did not absorb it, he would remain there forever. Xiao Wu's seal was still waiting for him, the tower's second floor had only just opened, and the Power of Devouring had only just entered his meridians.

He needed this Soul Ring.

Nan Feng closed his eyes and began to guide it.

The instant the Soul Ring touched his body, its energy poured into his meridians like an entire mountain compressed into a river.

His meridian walls stretched to their limit. His skin pulled taut and shiny, and veins bulged from his forehead to the tops of his feet.

His bones creaked in rapid succession. Soul Power surged through the wound on his left arm, and blood seeped out again.

He clenched his teeth, a metallic sweetness between them.

"Tower Suppression to suppress the soul. Full output from the first floor, with Devouring from the second floor in support." Old Huai's voice cut through from the depths of his soul.

The first-floor doors operated at full strength. Cyan light poured from the crack, covering Nan Feng's entire body.

The light was thicker than ever before, as if someone had poured the Power of Mountain Suppression from the entire tower into his meridians.

At the same time, the Power of Devouring on the second floor went to work, drawing the Soul Ring's violent energy into the tower bit by bit and converting it into tower energy for storage. The pressure on his meridian walls eased considerably.

The cracks healed inch by inch in the cyan light, then split open again inch by inch. They split and healed, healed and split.

Nan Feng's consciousness rose and sank amid the agony. His meridian walls were pulled back and forth between the Soul Ring's assault and the tower's suppression, growing thicker with every pull.

A remnant will was wrapped inside the Soul Ring.

When a twelve-thousand-year-old Soul Beast died, its soul did not immediately disperse. Bearing the bear king's final rage, that remnant will charged into the depths of Nan Feng's consciousness.

A fierce bear reduced countless times in size rampaged through his soul space, crashing into the tower and the Primordial World Imprint.

The blows sent Nan Feng's consciousness reeling.

Deep within his soul, the nine-story Bronze Tower shook. Cyan light transformed into a giant hand that seized the remnant will, tore it apart, suppressed it, and ground it to dust.

The tower absorbed the remnant will. The dark-gold patterns on the first-floor doors lit up in a complete circle.

The energy inside his body continued to rage. Nan Feng's Soul Power resisted under the Compression Method's drive, while cracks spread one after another, only to be forced back by the power of suppression.

The twelve-thousand-year energy was too vast; a Soul Master at the Soul Elder level should not have been able to withstand it. Years of tempering with the Primordial World Qi Refining Art had made Nan Feng's meridians nearly twice as thick as those of Soul Masters at the same level. With the additional honing of the Gravity Field and the aid of the first floor's Power of Mountain Suppression and the second floor's Power of Devouring, that energy was tamed inch by inch, compressed, and fused into his dantian.

When the last of the violent energy was absorbed by his dantian, Nan Feng's body went limp as a puddle of mud.

He sprawled in the dead leaves, his clothes soaked with blood and sweat, his limbs numb.

A black Soul Ring revolved around him. Pure black and substantial, its fluctuations were nearly twice as dense as those of an ordinary Ten Thousand Year Soul Ring.

The Soul Power in his dantian surged. He leaped from level thirty to level thirty-four.

The feel of his circulating Soul Power had changed completely. It was weighty and steady, carrying the ferocity of a Ten-Thousand-Year Soul Beast. His meridian walls had grown thick and resilient from the tempering, and their width had increased by nearly thirty percent.

The second-floor tower doors had opened fully when his Soul Power broke past level thirty. The Power of Devouring flowed steadily from the doors, down the tower and into his meridians, forming an additional energy cycle.

Nan Feng could feel it. When he absorbed a Soul Ring or Spiritual Power, the Power of Devouring converted some of the energy into tower energy. The burden on his meridians had lessened, and his Soul Power accumulated faster.

The impact of the Ten Thousand Year Soul Ring had pushed the third-floor doors open a very narrow crack. Opening them fully would require him to reach level forty.

The warmth of the Power of Creation seeped through the crack, flowing through his soul into his dantian, then seeping from his dantian into the meridians throughout his body.

Nan Feng felt the hidden injuries in his meridian walls heal rapidly in the warmth, and the tiny cracks in his bones filled in.

He could also perceive the outline of the seal deep within Xiao Wu's Martial Soul. He could not touch its substance, but he could see where it was, what shape it had, and what it was made of.

Nan Feng rolled over and lay on his back among the dead leaves.

The daylight had already dimmed. Twilight filtered through gaps in the canopy, staining the tree trunks into dark brown silhouettes.

He raised his right hand. The black Soul Ring's underlying glow pulsed against the skin of his palm, answering the cyan light in the crack at the base of the tower, one rising as the other fell.

All three of his Soul Rings were darker than those of Soul Masters at the same level. The first was deep yellow tinged with purple, the second purple, and the third pure black. If he released them, a discerning Soul Master would spot the irregularity at a glance.

He laid his hand back on his chest. The warm pulse deep in his palm came through against his ribs, beat after beat.

The bear king lay not far away, its body already cold. Nan Feng had sensed no trace of a Soul Bone in it; this bear had not produced one.

He had obtained the Soul Ring. His Soul Power had jumped four levels. The second-floor tower doors had opened fully. The Power of Creation was seeping through the crack in the third-floor doors.

Nan Feng lay among the dead leaves with his eyes closed for a long time.