Chương 137: Chapter 30: Ancient Jade Slip

"At the seventeenth level of Qi Condensation, my cultivation sits a mere hair's breadth away from the Pseudo-Core stage," Reyn mused, his voice echoing in the silence of his secluded chamber. His Divine Sense had already undergone a qualitative transformation, rivaling that of a mid-stage Golden Core expert. With the Soul-Piercing Awl in hand, any Foundation Establishment cultivator—even those at the peak of the Pseudo-Core realm—could be executed in a single, decisive strike.

Against an early-stage Golden Core master, he could likely force a lethal exchange, though it would leave him drained and vulnerable, much like his current state.

"Against a late-stage expert, however, I have no chance. If I encounter such a monster, the only option is to flee as far as my legs can carry me." Reyn shook his head slowly. In the vast, predatory expanse of the cultivation world, his current strength was still precariously low. A single stroke of misfortune could see him extinguished like a candle in a gale. With a heavy sigh, he retrieved two storage bags from his robes.

The first was an opulent, pitch-black pouch etched with intricate, flowing patterns—the personal hoard of Jin Jupeng. With a sweep of his Divine Sense, Reyn shattered the restrictive seals placed upon the bag in a heartbeat. As his consciousness delved inside, his breathing hitched. Jin Jupeng's wealth was staggering. He counted 180, 000 low-grade spirit stones and nearly 10, 000 mid-grade stones. This haul alone didn't just recoup his auction expenses; it turned a massive profit.

Beyond the currency, the bag contained three high-grade spirit tools. One was a delicate jade hairpin, clearly a feminine magic treasure, while another was a macabre bone skull radiating a chilling, sinister yin energy—a potent tool for a ghost-path cultivator. The third was a rare find: a Sub-Mother Artifact Set. It consisted of a single mother blade and seven sub-blades, each shaped like a willow leaf and thin as a cicada's wing.

Individually, each piece was a high-grade spirit tool, but when combined, their power rivaled top-tier magic treasures, perhaps even matching the lethality of low-level magic treasures used by Golden Core masters. Reyn toyed with the blades for a moment before stowing them away. While impressive, they lacked the raw, overwhelming power of his Soul-Piercing Awl or the Heaven-Turning Seal. He gave the remaining talismans, pills, and jade slips a cursory glance.

Finding nothing of legendary rarity, he sorted them into his own storage space and turned his attention to the second bag—the property of Mo Shuaishao. Upon prying it open, Reyn's eyes sparked with genuine delight. He produced two ornate jade boxes and peeled back the sealing talismans. Two lustrous, amber-colored inner cores sat nestled within.

One was the peak Level 2 Earth Turtle Inner Core that Mo Shuaishao had purchased for 8, 000 stones; the other was the Pangolin Inner Core, a treasure with properties bordering on Level 3, which had cost 10, 000 at the auction. Now, both belonged to Reyn. This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. He set the cores aside and continued his search, pulling out several high-grade spirit tools and bottles of medicinal pills.

Most were common fare, beneath his notice, until his fingers brushed against a rectangular, earthen-yellow object. It bore a striking resemblance to his own Heaven-Turning Seal and emitted a pungent, heavy scent of soil and minerals.

"This is a powerful earth-attribute artifact, yet it feels unfinished," Reyn noted, his brow furrowing.

"Mo Shuaishao was likely hunting for specific cores to complete the refinement of this treasure." He delved deeper into the bag, and his expression shifted from curiosity to shock. He pulled out a weathered jade slip, narrow at the top and wide at the base, its surface dull with the patina of ages. This design was archaic, utterly different from the slips used by modern cultivators. It was a relic of the ancient era. In those primordial times, the cultivation world was a realm of titans and gods.

Though that golden age had long since faded into myth, any fragment left behind was a catalyst for bloody conflict and frantic greed. Taking a steadying breath, Reyn extended a thread of Divine Sense toward the ancient jade. The moment his consciousness made contact, a violent, irresistible suction erupted from the slip. Before he could react, the world dissolved into a blur of motion. His soul was forcibly wrenched from his physical shell and dragged into a bizarre, alien dimension.

"Where am I?" Reyn demanded, his voice cold. He stood in a boundless void of swirling grey mist. There was no sky, no ground—only the slow, rhythmic flow of primordial haze. Suddenly, the mist began to churn violently. Reyn's eyes narrowed, a murderous glint appearing as he prepared for a life-or-death struggle. The grey gases twisted and condensed, forming the translucent figure of a blurred, elderly man. As the phantom solidified, a faint, ethereal pressure began to radiate from its form.

It was a subtle weight, as if the man were merely breathing or shifting his gaze, yet it hit Reyn with the force of a falling mountain. His soul form shuddered, ripples of instability spreading across his essence. Under this casual aura, Reyn felt as though he might be ground into fine powder at any second. If his soul were destroyed here, there would be no reincarnation—only eternal oblivion.

"Who is this? A mere projection possesses such terrifying might?" Reyn gritted his teeth, his eyes burning with a refusal to submit. He glared at the phantom, a low growl escaping his throat.

"You are nothing but a shadow! I don't care how powerful your true body once was—you will not break me!" The phantom stood motionless, an indifferent deity watching a mortal's futile struggle. It was the cold, detached gaze of a god who viewed all life as ants.

"I have fought through blood and betrayal to reach this point," Reyn roared in his mind.

"I will not die inside a piece of jade!" Buzz. A resonant hum vibrated from the depths of Reyn's soul. The Four-sided Golden Seal, which had remained dormant and silent within his essence, suddenly pulsed with a sharp sense of irritation. It was as if the seal felt insulted by the phantom's arrogance. A single, razor-thin thread of golden light bled from the seal and fused with Reyn's soul. Instantly, Reyn's fading form erupted with a brilliant, pale gold luster. His soul essence became as solid as tempered steel.

The moment this new, ancient aura touched the elder's pressure, the crushing weight didn't just vanish—it was obliterated. The phantom's might was utterly suppressed, forced back by a power that brooked no challenge.