In a dimly lit cave, the only light came from the energy radiating off the spirit spring. Zhuan Ming sat cross-legged at its center, his body mostly submerged. The time had finally come—he had sensed it while in the library. He was ready to break through.
To reach the 3rd rank, one had to grow nirvana roots throughout the entire body. Now, all that remained was to concentrate a vast amount of spiritual energy into his nirvana seed. Doing so would trigger a qualitative change, allowing him to control his nirvana roots freely and begin the process of body merging.
Zhuan Ming had chosen to break through while submerged in the spirit spring's water—a concentration of pure spiritual energy. Since he experienced head pain every time he used spiritual energy, coming to the source meant he could absorb it directly, bypassing the strain of gathering it himself.
He began the process, taking a deep breath to relax. Then, nirvana roots extended from all over his body, absorbing the spirit spring's water and drawing it toward the nirvana seed. The water level slowly dropped as Zhuan Ming filled the seed's capacity.
The process continued until the water reached his waist and the nirvana seed swelled to its limit. Then, he felt it—the seed at his core pulsed like a second heart, swollen with spiritual energy. The pressure built until it was unbearable—then, in an instant, it burst.
A wave of raw power surged through his meridians. His nirvana roots flared to life, writhing like awakened serpents beneath his skin. The remaining water trembled, then erupted in a swirling vortex as the energy refined his flesh, bone, and spirit in a single, searing transformation.
Pain—sharp and purifying—racked his body, but Zhuan Ming gritted his teeth. This was the crucible. His roots coiled deeper, fusing with muscle and sinew, weaving his very being into something greater. When the agony peaked, it shattered into clarity.
His eyes snapped open. The cave, once dim, now seemed etched in radiant detail. He exhaled, and the last dregs of impure energy left his body in a dark mist. The water stilled.
He had crossed the threshold.
"Hah…" Zhuan Ming breathed out. "This took me thirty years in my past life. Now, it didn't even take one. Well, I have the knowledge of countless inheritances and experience, but this body… it's truly amazing. It's like the cultivation speed increases with time."
He bent his head to look at the water, catching a blurry reflection of his face. "Also, I feel like I'm becoming unnaturally stronger—and better-looking with each day."
"Hey, old man, what exactly is this body?"
Silence.
"Hey, old man?"
"This geezer has been very mute lately," Zhuan Ming thought.
Then, he sensed something else—a second Heaven's Fruit had ripened. It emitted a dark, ominous energy, pure black and smooth, unlike the patterned Luck Fruit. This was a fruit of the Death Path.
"A Death Fruit… Strange. First, it was the Luck Path, now Death—both rare paths I barely know anything about. Well, since the heavens have given me this gift, I won't waste it."
He ate the Death Fruit. Instantly, a Death Path mark embedded itself into his nirvana roots, granting him death energy and the means to control it. His mind flooded with knowledge of the fruit's abilities—a sickle that fed on death energy, growing stronger and more durable. It could also release stored energy in a single, devastating strike.
"This is a great fruit—definitely of the highest quality. Right now, it's not at its peak, but once it consumes enough death energy, it could rival a rank 4 or even rank 5 artifact."
Next, he turned his attention to the Luck Fruit. He consumed it, gaining its ability—to turn misfortune into luck, with greater misfortune yielding greater boons.
"The heavens are really spoiling me. This is also around rank 3, possibly rank 4. Still no Blood Path artifact, though…"
He noticed new leaves forming, possibly signaling future Blood Path fruits. "The rate of fruit production should speed up now."
Stepping out of the spirit spring, he mused, "I should stay away for a while and let it recover."
After dressing, he left the cave, walking home while forming a sickle from his nirvana roots—the same weapon granted by the Death Fruit. He examined it, recalling past techniques he had learned or acquired from steeling.
Soon, he reached his house. After eating a double the usual portion meat, exhaustion weighed on him, and he drifted into sleep.