Inside the tower, where one outside hour stretched into days, his cultivation turned frenzied. Pills dissolved on his tongue like peppermint; torrents of spiritual veins were siphoned straight into his core, and relics packed with broken laws cracked apart under sheer absorption.
His body became a bottomless furnace, devouring matter, energy, even the faint shimmer of time itself. The memory of his crushing defeat lashed him forward. Each imagined swing from Soul Devourer’s blade stoked his drive. The illusion that he was already fearsome had been obliterated. In its place burned a lucid, almost desperate hunger for higher cultivation levels.
Moments, or perhaps weeks, whirred by in that warped chamber, sand slipping through an unseen cosmic hourglass. Then, deep in the tower’s heart, a roar of power erupted. Ether howled, walls vibrated, and swirling clouds of light spun into a tempest.
Jared’s eyes snapped open. A nebula of chaos seemed to flicker in their depths, worlds forming and collapsing in a heartbeat before plunging back into stillness.
His cultivation, once stalled at Human Immortal Realm Level Six, surged a full tier higher—Level Seven, at last.
Although Jared had advanced only one level, the life-and-death struggle against Soul Devourer, and the reflective calm that followed inside the tower, had tempered every facet of him.
His strength, spiritual perception, and mastery of the Heavenly Law all felt newly forged—layer upon layer, dense and unshakable, as though a blacksmith had folded the same blade a hundred times.
He pictured the man he had been mere days earlier. Ten exchanges, no more, and that unseasoned version of himself would crumble beneath the weight of his present blows.
Across the tower’s interior, other chambers now rippled with power.
Shuddering waves of energy rolled outward, heralding that his companions, too, had reached the end of their secluded trials.
Sylvia was the first to leave her solitary training. The wounds that once scarred her delicate frame had vanished, replaced by an ethereal glow that belonged to the very peak of Heavenly Immortal Realm Level Three.
Wisps of pale light threaded through her hair like dawn mist. That radiance curled around her and stretched skyward, linking her breath to the newly restored destiny of the Heaven Gate Sect—an invisible covenant between woman and mountain, past and future.
Moments later, Neville emerged, posture square, aura steady, each breath as deep and measured as a rolling drum. His injuries had healed so thoroughly they now felt like distant rumors.
Zevon followed. The moment he crossed the threshold, the very air thickened. His presence resembled a fathomless ocean at night—dark, endless, impossible to gauge with mortal senses. Power slumbered beneath that surface, larger than before and considerably more dangerous.
When the three saw Jared walk out whole, and stronger, every tight shoulder in the hall finally dropped.
“Jared, are you all right?” Sylvia’s quick steps carried her close, sea-glass eyes shining with worry. “Did every wound mend?”
“I promise, I’m fine,” Jared answered, warmth blooming behind his smile. “Better than fine, actually; came out a touch sharper than I went in.”
Zevon’s dark gaze drifted over him, curious.
“Your gain was substantial,” he remarked quietly. “Your foundation feels rock-solid now. Yet I detect a faint restlessness clinging to you, like sparks beneath a kettle lid.”
At Zevon’s words, Jared finally noticed it: the storage ring at his finger pulsing with agitated beats, broadcasting muffled feelings of grievance and impatience.
A thought unlocked the ring’s inner world, and its silence broke apart.
Aaaoo-woo!
A crimson blur shot out and skidded to a halt against Jared’s boots.
The small Fire Unicorn nosed his trouser leg with desperate affection, but its wide, glassy eyes brimmed with reproach. Soft whimpers trembled from its throat, tiny indictments of neglect.
Jared blinked, then the truth struck him.
The Little Celestial Devourer that once shared the ring’s beast chamber had departed alongside the newly restored Vermilion Demon Lord. Left alone inside that echoing space, the unicorn, born a herald of joyous flames, had been marooned in dull solitude, its nature stifled.
“A Fire Unicorn… a fine celestial beast?” Neville breathed, wonder widening his eyes. Zevon crouched, studying the creature’s scarlet scales and ember-lit mane.
“An ancient blessed beast,” he murmured. “Its potential is limitless. Still, it’s a cub. It needs copious spirit beasts and rare treasures to grow. Raise it well, and someday it will guard you like a blazing shield.”
