A vast tide of divine consciousness surged into Liu Chen's sea of mind — cold as glaciers, solemn as judgment, carrying an authority beyond resistance.It was the true soul of the Heavenly Gate Hall's ancestor — a being who had once stood atop the demonic path, whose very will was as sharp as a blade, thunderous as ancient storms, making all living things seem like mere dust beneath his feet.
As that divine consciousness penetrated Liu Chen's body, every meridian, every tendon, every bone, every cell was meticulously scanned.The ancestor sought not just a strong body, but a core resilient and pure enough to contain his soul without crumbling.
Liu Chen's body remained motionless.His soul was suppressed by the revolving seals, showing no unusual reactions — and this very stillness pleased the ancestor.The fewer the deviations, the higher the chance of a successful soul transference.
The ancestor lifted his hand.
From the void condensed a string of ethereal runes — indistinct yet heavy — descending upon Liu Chen.The eight bloodstone pillars around the pool lit up simultaneously, and from their ancient cores emerged a faint silver-gray mist, flowing silently across the blood pool.
This was the Essence Lead, a vapor refined from over three thousand ancient demonic materials, used specifically to expand meridians and awaken latent potential during body reforging.
As the Essence Lead seeped into Liu Chen's flesh and blood, it quietly flushed and stimulated his stagnant life force.
His skin began to burn as if branded with molten iron.Smoke billowed from every pore.Muscles reknit anew.Bones groaned under unseen strain.His body convulsed violently — yet no blood flowed out.His mortal blood was not yet replaced — only driven toward the absolute limit, being reforged from within.
The ancestor waved his sleeve, releasing a jade slip.From it bloomed a complex diagram suspended in the air — a map of three hundred sixty acupoints and every primary meridian.
Each time a point in the diagram lit up, a corresponding shock shook Liu Chen's body, stretching him beyond his limits — only to stabilize a moment later, stronger than before.
The ritual honed every muscle, every tendon, every inch of bone through the most merciless means.
Beneath the blood pool, black mist began to spiral, lifting Liu Chen's body into the air.The winds howled madly, the balance of yin and yang distorted.
The ancestor watched calmly.
Forging a vessel fit for his soul was no different from any other daily task.
"No need for a blood replacement,"he murmured."His blood already harmonizes with pure demonic qi. It suffices to strengthen what exists."
In his gaze flashed a rare glint of satisfaction.
He flicked his sleeve again.
A second formation unfolded above the stone platform — this one drawing not spirit energy, nor demonic essence, but Xuan Bone Starfire — a flame used solely for tempering bone, stronger than any earthly metal, forged to withstand ancient demon souls.
"First temper the bones.Then fuse the demonic qi.Then... the Demon Seed shall be born."
The ancestor raised his head.
In his eyes gleamed ambition — a longing to break through the bottleneck that had bound him for centuries.
He retrieved a black bronze jar from his spatial ring.Upon opening it, a pale gray mist spilled forth, cloaking the blood pool.
This was Withered Oblivion Dust — the breath of dying things — used to force life into a desperate resurgence.
The mist enshrouded Liu Chen's body.
Every breath was a struggle between life and death, forcing the primal survival instinct to ignite anew — precisely the catalyst the ancestor needed.
This was no empowerment of the living.
This was the crafting of a vessel — a body forged to imprison a soul older than empires.
Thirty-six hours passed.
Liu Chen's vitality did not wane — it grew.
His muscles thickened layer by layer.His bone marrow roared like a temple bell under hammer blows.
The ancestor whispered:
"It is ready."
But this — this was only the first third.
Without pause, he initiated the third ritual.
Above the blood pool, a third formation formed — designed specifically to channel pure demonic qi.
From another vessel — a jade urn etched with profane runes — he slowly unleashed the sealed mist within.
It had no color.No form.
Yet it twisted the very space around it.
The eight bloodstone pillars groaned under the strain, their glyphs flashing desperately to contain the ancient force.
This was pure demonic qi — relic of a bygone era when demon gods still roamed the stars.
Every inch of this mist held the shattered remnants of ancient demonic wills — fragments of slaughter and hate.
Carefully, the ancestor guided the qi above Liu Chen's head.
He chanted a binding mantra.
Slowly, the mist spiraled downward — sinking through Liu Chen's skull, flowing into his spine, burrowing into every bone.
The groans of straining bones echoed like funeral bells across the void.
Though his mind was sealed, Liu Chen's body twitched uncontrollably.
Each contact of demonic qi brought agony — as if a thousand venomous worms gnawed his marrow.
Yet the ancestor was pleased.
There was no rupture.
No backlash.
Liu Chen's blood remained steady — a sign that his body was beginning to fuse with the demonic qi.
The formation of the Demon Seed was beginning.
The Demon Seed was the only way a demon soul could survive long-term possession.Without it, the soul would eventually be rejected — either dissipating into nothingness or driven mad.
"Bones hardened.Qi fused."
The ancestor smiled faintly.
His voice echoed like an oath carved into the bones of the earth:
"Now... only the seed must sprout."
Deep within Liu Chen's marrow, where the demonic qi had saturated every fiber, a small black speck formed — pulsing faintly like a newly conceived heart.
This was the seed — the embryo of the Demon Seed — the fusion of human flesh and ancient demonic force.
Without delay, the ancestor initiated the fourth ritual:
Earth Core Wombfire.
A hidden formation beneath the blood pool activated, summoning the molten breath of the earth itself.
The fire did not burn — it cradled.
A cocoon of searing warmth enveloped Liu Chen, sealing him from external interference — forming a perfect womb for the Demon Seed to gestate.
Liu Chen's breathing grew heavier.
From every joint oozed wisps of black mist — ghostly vapors pulsing with the beat of the forming seed.
The eight bloodstone pillars trembled, releasing a chorus of eerie resonance — as if ancient spirits were chanting an unseen ritual.
Above Liu Chen's body, a nine-petaled lotus of demonic light slowly unfolded — a phenomenon seen only when a Demon Seed reached critical mass.
The ancestor seated himself cross-legged, forming seals with his hands.
He began the final rite: Soul Imprint Carving.
A thread of ink-black light emerged from the ancestor's forehead, piercing Liu Chen's glabella — branding a seal deep into his soul.
The mark resembled a dragon's slitted eye — half-closed, mesmerizing, dominative.
The moment the brand settled, the Demon Seed blossomed.
No longer a tiny black speck — it exploded into a blood lotus, roots digging into his spine, his heart, his veins — finally anchoring within his soul sea.
The Demon Seed now nourished his every organ, controlled his every breath.
From the outside, Liu Chen's body seemed sculpted into the statue of a demonic god — veins glowing faint red and purple, flesh exuding a dread no mortal dared approach.
The ancestor slowly opened his eyes.
Deep and endless as the abyss.
"It is done,"he whispered.