A grey fist cut through the air. Its momentum was dominating and unshakable as if the punch that set its course was thrown with no regard except breaking its target. Nothing, but the strike mattered. Nothing, but the strike reaching mattered. That was the intent behind [death strike].
A muscular body shifted, and a pale arm that partway became grey straightened into a horizontal blur, before abruptly coming to halt. The fist's moment died as if it had reached the target. Lighting-fast the grey color drained from the strained arm and emerged as a wave of green power with enough strength to reduce human bodies and solid rock to powder alike.
With a sigh, the muscular man returned to a neutral, relaxed stance. [death strike] was still a diamond in the rough but Han Bei refined it to a level where he could use it in combat. It was good news. Joyous news. Yet he still sighed.
After he returned from Last light exhaustion that had accumulated ever since the last time Han Bei slept overtook him and Corpse dreamt again. He saw old faces and new, some ripped apart by claws and fangs others mingled and broken by brute force. All of them dead, and all of them blamed him with their lifeless eyes. The last was that devil Fang Ming. Always laughing always upon his throne of blood.
Yet the dream didn't end there. Just as Han Bei reached out to strangle the thrice-cursed bastard. the devil exploded into a thousand motes of red light and each one was a fragment of a memory. Han Bei watched and he regained bits and pieces of his broken mind. But he wasn't happy, he couldn't be. For it wasn't the peaceful times among his martial siblings that he regained but something darker, something twisted.
Images, of distant worlds and a thousand dead, haunted him. Young, old, male, female, strong, weak. All dead by his hand. And the worst part, the thing that truly churned his stomach? Along with all those dead faces, Han Bei also remembered the sense of blissful fulfillment that filled him at the time, as if the Heavens themselves guided his every muscle. It was abhorrent, and Han Bei couldn't help but mutter, " Wrong, so fucking wrong. "
" Well I'm no lover of the Deva either, but it's only fair that you pay for his services, " said an aged voice from the side as Han Bei stood still for several seconds. Han Bei snorted, " 700 hundred spirit stones is still a lot. " There was no need for him to tell the old monk the real reason why he was upset. The old monk shrugged. " You'll have to work for that information one way or another. "
Han Bei's body tensed as ghostly qi surged through his body and then through his arm." True, but cultivation comes first. " The old monk couldn't argue with that and allowed the pale youth to practice in peace. The air shook with power as Han Bei launched strike after strike. Each one built upon single-minded focus and all the effort he could muster. Each one a bit more refined, a bit more perfect.
The day passed as Han Bei refined the [death strike] until he could freely use the technique and channel qi through any part of his body.[death strike], of course, wasn't the only technique he practiced. Techniques like [death grip],[yin soldiers], and [ghost leap] similarly received Han Bei's attention, but it wasn't just the old that occupied Han Bei's attention. There was also the new.
Gloomy, dark green strands of qi waved around Han Bei's pale arm. Several of them intersected and weaved together only to break apart moments later. The strands vanished as if melted by sunlight only to appear once more and coil around flesh moments later. As more and more of the strands combined together they resembled a serpentine shape that only became more pronounced.
Han Bei extended his arm and the ghostly serpent lept with a soundless roar and strangled a nearby boulder. Han Bei tightened his hold and the boulder gently trembled while tiny cracks appeared on its surface. His face twisted into a frown as the ghostly construct shattered a moment later. He attempted the technique once more but as the strands of qi failed to connect his arm became rigid as his muscles filled with cramps. He cursed underneath his breath, " Damn backlash! " This was [dark hold], one of the 3 techniques that could be found inside the incomplete manual Han Bei bought in Last light.
Han Bei heaved a sigh as he sat down and replenished his Qi reserves. But it wasn't a spirit stone that he used. Instead, the opening of his bag of holding widened and he pulled out the ghost flag that he had gotten from the bald necromancer." Finally found some use for the damn thing. "
He wandered around the ravine for a couple of hours and every ghost that he came across was refined and stored inside the dark spirit treasure, instead of being directly absorbed by his aperture. Now that he had use of the power stored inside he willed the ghost qi to emerge from the ghost flag and quickly absorbed it. " Pretty clever, " the old monk complimented.
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Han Bei smiled. " Finally willing to recognize my genius, old man? " The old monk also smiled. " Maybe when you start earning spirit stones I'll consider it. " The pale youth's smile became a tad bit more forced. " I'll get back to you about that one. " The old monk snorted, " There isn't much to think just look to the stars for the answers. " As if to punctuate his point, a burning spirit ship flew over the ravine and disappeared over the horizon while several horns blared in the distance declaring their right on the salvage.
" You want me to fight over whatever shit drops from the sky? " Han Bei asked. Without any hesitation, the old thing nodded. " That's right. " Not long ago Han Bei would have looked on such proposition with nothing but disdain. But now? " Sure as hell, beats working under that smug Deva bastard. " Han Bei closed his eyes in concentration but before he fully returned his attention to cultivation, he gave the old monk an answer. " I'll think about it. " The old monk laughed, " I'm sure that you will, you're a very clever clever little corpse after all. "
Han Bei snorted and opened his eyes, " Listen here, old man... " Yet his retort fell on deaf ears as the old monk mysteriously vanished. " Now that's just rude as all hell. " He got up and neared the sport where the old monk just was. He scrutinized the surroundings but found no traces of how the old thing disappeared. " Slippery old thief, " he silently cursed before he returned to his original position, closed his eyes, and calmed his annoyed mind.
Any frivolities or other distractions faded from Han Bei's mind and qi flowed through his body. It concentrated around his right arm and became several strands that quickly weaved together into a shape that resembled a serpent.[dark hold] he willed it and the spectral serpent lep from his arm to a nearby boulder. The ghostly serpent coiled around the boulder only to break apart seconds later.
With a portion of his Qi spent Han Bei sighed at the failure and began again. That's how he spent his days. He practiced[dark hold] and polished his other techniques like [death strike] and [yin soldiers] while the other half of the day was spent cultivating. It was a familiar routine. One Han Bei was intimately familiar with when he was a disciple of the Yellow valley sect. " Better times, " he sometimes bitterly thought.
He spent hours with his eyes closed while he absorbed the sluggish heavenly energy and the wandering ghosts that wandered the ravine. The need to move his body around faded with his mundane perception of the outside world. Close to a trance-like state he used spirit sense to perceive his surroundings. He felt the sluggish heavenly energy that clung to the ravine like snow that refused to melt and the wandering ghosts that moved around like icebergs drifting through the ocean.
His body became a vortex that absorbed all the surrounding cold and at the very center, there was his aperture. A green orb, a small star that melted the cold and added to its own mass. He beckoned more of the wandering ghosts to himself and refined them all. His will burned away the fragments of old hatred and left nothing but power for him to absorb.
10 days must have passed and no less than 100 of the weak-willed ghost were refined before Han Bei finally hit a roadblock. No matter how much Heavenly energy or ghosts he took his cultivation advanced no further.
This was not a new sensation to Han Bei, rather it was familiar to every cultivator." I've hit a bottleneck, " he quickly concluded. He was close to the final Heaven of the first realm. A single step and his power would greatly increase, but it was a large step to take. After spending a day capturing the wandering specters inside the ghost flag he entered his cave-dwelling, and totally shifted his focus toward cultivation.
It wasn't about the amount of qi inside his aperture anymore. there was a need for a qualitative increase instead. So now when Han Bei refined raw energy instead of increasing in size, his aperture shrunk instead. The power inside was compressed, ready to be unleashed, ready to remake the aperture, ready to pass the bottleneck.
Even Han Bei's usually unfeeling body burned from the strain, yet he endured. " So close, so very close " he murmured as he struggled to contain the power inside his aperture. The more raw qi was refined and compressed, the more his aperture changed. It became stronger, sturdier. He was so very close.
Yet it wasn't enough. A wave of energy originated from Han Bei and his cave-dwelling shuddered while loose rocks rained around him and threatened to bury him alive, while what little belongings he had were covered in dust. Han Bei didn't even notice as he was completely focused on his aperture that had returned to its original size. Surplus qi escaped from his body and damaged the surroundings, this breakthrough was quickly becoming a failure.
" Alright, plan B then, " he quickly decided. Before all the necessary qi escaped his body, Han Bei took out Griefholder from his bag of holding. Nails extended from the demonic chalice and pierced his hands. Strength was drained from his body while the chalice filled with grey alluring mist.
Han Bei quickly inhaled the mist and grey strands of cursed power traveled through his body and mixed with the ghostly qi inside his aperture. Han Bei's body strained as he again attempted to breakthrough. He compressed his aperture and the power inside mixed with the grey smoke from the chalice. The two substances mixed together and became one while strengthening the aperture that contained them.
Han Bei clenched his fist in triumph as he felt the volume and power of his qi increase. He broke through and reached the final heaven of the first realm. " By the good Heavens, hell yeah! " he shouted. He contained his joy as much as he could while he stabilized his condition and got used to his new level of power. His body refining cultivation fell to the initial 2nd realm, but it was a sacrifice he deemed necessary.
Han Bei looked at the chalice in his other hand and couldn't help but wonder, how useful to him would be the damned spirit treasures in the hands of the rest of the demonic fingers.