Journey of true Cultivation

The battle raged on, both the Crowned Ghost Prince, Defying Phantom, and Young Master Basilisk clashing in a relentless fight to the death, their schemes and tricks intertwining like a deadly game of wits.

The land itself bore the scars of their battle,obliterated beyond recognition, its once thriving spiritual energy now thrown into complete disarray. Even the true spiritual essence and Heaven's essence had grown chaotic, the very balance of the world disturbed by their prolonged conflict. The battlefield had been drained dry, a wasteland where not even the heavens could restore what had been lost.

For years, their battle continued,every trap, every runic formation, every hidden trump card was played.

One had known exactly who his opponent would be from the start, preparing in advance. The other had only discovered his adversary upon being attacked, forced to adapt to an unforeseen challenge.

On one side of the battlefield stood a colossal, six-armed figure clad in tattered white armor, glowing with a faint, eerie light. Despite its divine presence, the armor looked fragile, on the verge of shattering with even the weakest blow.

The six-armed entity wielded three distinct swords, each radiating a different power,one red, one blue, and one black. In another of its six hands, it carried a flickering lamp, from which a purple flame danced ominously. The remaining two hands were empty, yet both were covered in half-broken gauntlets, symbols of a battle-worn warrior who had endured far too much.

Opposite this spectral warlord was a monstrous, serpentine creature,a titanic azure-scaled dragon, its form battered and bloodied. Two long, azure horns extended from its head, accompanied by two smaller ones curling beside them. Its deep blue, vertical-slit eyes gleamed with both madness and exhaustion, while razor-sharp white fangs protruded from its mouth, dripping with fresh blood.

Though its magnificent scales shimmered in the flickering battlefield light, many had already been shattered or torn away, exposing the raw flesh beneath. The aura of death clung heavily to its form, yet even in its battered state, the beast's presence remained as terrifying as it was awe-inspiring.

The two celestial figures hovered in the sky, locked in a tense, motionless standoff. Each one analyzed the other, waiting,listening to the whispers of the wind, as if the very air had begun to speak.

Then, a cold, detached voice broke the silence.

"Basilisk, why do you still resist?" Defying Phantom's emotionless voice carried across the ruined battlefield, neither mocking nor enraged,simply stating an undeniable truth.

"You know just as well as I do that I have far more soul essence and true qi left. You, on the other hand, are clinging to the last dregs of your life force. Why prolong the inevitable? Give up, and I will grant you a painless, swift death."

For a brief moment, silence returned. Then, from the great azure dragon, a second voice rose,calm, yet laced with ruthless determination.

"Living with only a few drops of soul essence and true qi?" Basilisk's voice, though filled with exhaustion, still carried its commanding presence.

"You're right. I have nearly nothing left. My body is failing me. I can feel the very blood of my true dragon lineage slipping away… Even if I defeat you here, I will not live to see another day."

A pause.

Then, his voice changed,no longer cold, but irritated… and almost disappointed.

"But, Phantom, there's one thing.I still have one final hidden card left."

With that said, the other voice merely sneered, raising its three swords into a combat stance. The massive snake's body tensed slightly, its deep blue eyes locking onto the thousands upon thousands of Asura Flame Ghosts before it. There was no turning back now.

And then,the snake exploded.

Basilisk's entire body erupted in a catastrophic detonation, sending a devastating shockwave rippling across the battlefield.

The six armed ghost immediately sensed the overwhelming danger, its form shuddering as it realized the magnitude of what was happening. Every single Asura Flame Ghost under its control was instantly commanded to block the incoming destruction,but it was futile.

The explosion obliterated them in an instant.

Left alone to endure the devastating attack, the six-armed ghost braced itself, standing firm as the force of Basilisk's ultimate technique consumed it.

And then,everything vanished.

The skies, once torn apart by their battle, returned to silence. The land, which had suffered under the weight of their conflict, was erased beyond recognition.

Days passed.

Then months.

Then years.

For three years, nothing remained. The battlefield had become a forgotten void, a graveyard of two fallen titans.

Until,a single azure flame flickered into existence.

At first, it was weak, no more than a spark drifting in the air. But then it grew. Expanding. Shifting. Twisting.

The flame took the shape of a human form, though it had no distinct features. A torso. Arms. A head. A being of pure azure fire now floated in the skies where once a war had been fought.

Slowly, the flames pulsed and changed, weaving together an ethereal robe of deep azure, its fabric adorned with intricate black and yellow serpent patterns that coiled as if alive.

The moment its robe took form, the flame being stirred. It lifted its azure hands, flexing its fingers,testing its new existence. It tilted its head, gazed into the empty skies.

Then,it moved.

Its body lifted into the air, gliding effortlessly as if flying.

And then,it laughed.

A deep, haunting, triumphant laugh.

"Hehehehehe... Defying Phantom..." The voice of the azure flame-being echoed through the ruined land. "You have fallen here, and I live! Even if I am now only a soul-flame being, it does not matter! I can slowly create a new body, and in a thousand years or so, I shall return to the clan!"

Its voice grew darker, filled with twisted amusement.

"Hehehe... I win."

With that, the Azure Ghost,once known as Young Master Basilisk,soared across the sky, heading toward the Mirror Pavilion.

Along the way, his laughter echoed through the desolate land, a melody of victory.

But as he arrived at the Mirror Pavilion, something unexpected happened.

A rune formation,one he had never sensed before,suddenly activated.

Black chains burst forth from the void, surging toward him.

The Azure Ghost was caught. Shackled.

Bound to the Mirror Pavilion by an unknown force.

From that moment onward, he began plotting his escape. He faked the existence of an inheritance, using it as a lure for ambitious cultivators. He perfected his mastery of runes and formations, crafting countless schemes to break the chains that bound him.

Years passed.

Then centuries.

Countless cultivators came seeking the so-called inheritance of the "Fallen Crowned Ghost Prince."

And yet,none of them knew the truth.

None of them knew what had truly transpired in that Dragon-Ghost war.

None of them even knew if the war had ended.

But The Azure Ghost did not care. He had only one purpose,one desire.

Escape.

For nearly five thousand years, he struggled.

Attempt after attempt failed.

Until finally,he found the answer.

And then, one day,a ten year old boy arrived.

A perfect host. A perfect opportunity.

And so,his grandest scheme began.

To steal the boy's body.

And finally,break free from his prison.

- - - - - -

Atop a mountain, a young teenager lay motionless, as if trapped in an eternal slumber. His body remained still, untouched by the passing winds, until,his eyes slowly fluttered open.

His azure-black eyes gazed at the endless sky above him, yet he made no move to rise. His mind stirred. Memories surged forth, threatening to drown him in the weight of the past.

His village. His grandfather.

The Mansion of Countless Tombs.

The Mirror Pavilion.

The Azure Ghost,or as he now knew, the only True Basilisk.

Young Master Basilisk of the True Azure Dragon Clan.

The Crowned Ghost Prince,Defying Phantom, the Heir of the Underworld.

Everything he had once known, everything he had learned,it was too much to process.

Cultivation. The Countless, terrifying layers of cultivation.

The unfathomable stage Basilisk and Defying Phantom had reached.

The vast world beyond,a world that now seemed incomprehensibly large.

His own existence. His current location.

For two days, Yuan lay there, trapped within his own thoughts.

But then,his mind stabilized.

And so, he moved.

Pushing himself up, he observed his surroundings. Something felt different. As he took in his own form, he realized,he had grown.

He was taller now.

His fingers stretched before him, no longer the small, delicate hands of a child. His limbs, leaner but firmer, had lengthened. He estimated his height and came to a simple conclusion:

He should be around twelve years old now.

But how much time had truly passed? There was no way to be certain.

Driven by curiosity, Yuan sought his reflection. A small pond lay nearby, its still waters glistening beneath the sky. He took a step forward,but then, he paused.

For the first time, he noticed something that would have startled any other boy his age.

He was completely bare.

Yet, where another twelve year old might have felt embarrassment, shame, or confusion, Yuan remained unfazed. His expression did not waver.

Instead, he calmly raised his hand.

A gentle azure flame flickered into existence, dancing at the center of his palm. The flame swirled, its form shifting slowly, precisely. Before long, it wove itself into a robe,a simple yet perfectly sized azure garment.

Satisfied, he draped the robe over himself and continued toward the pond.

Upon reaching the water's edge, he gazed down.

His reflection stared back at him.

His expression remained unreadable, neither shocked nor disturbed. His once-familiar face was now different.

His eyes,azure black. No longer the same as before.

His features,sharper, more refined. His once childish roundness had faded into the early traces of maturity.

But then,his expression shifted.

For the first time since waking up, a flicker of doubt passed through his gaze.

He looked at himself.

For the first time since awakening, Yuan spoke, his voice hoarse and cold.

"Who am I?"

"Am I the Young Master of the True Azure Dragon Clan, who lived for thirty thousand years? Or am I Yuan, the ten-year-old boy who faced the Crowned Prince's inheritance?"

"No… I never truly faced the Crowned Prince's inheritance."

His azure black eyes reflected in the still water, flickering with a turmoil beyond his years.

"I fought against the Azure Ghost… the Young Master of the True Azure Dragon Clan. Or, as he was once known,the only Basilisk."

A ripple disturbed the pond's surface as he clenched his fists.

"Even his Azure Basilisk Flames have become mine."

"I know everything about the Basilisk,his deepest fears, his greatest hardships, the burdens he bore that no one else could understand. But… I also remember Yuan,an innocent boy who sought to defy fate, who longed for freedom from his soul's illness. Now that I understand cultivation…"

His reflection stared back at him, fractured and uncertain.

"One of them was a supreme existence,a cold, calculating manipulator who schemed against countless beings, a ruthless man who cared nothing for his family or children."

"The other was a curious, naive child,someone who only wanted to hear more stories from his grandfather, who unknowingly walked into the Basilisk's trials and traps."

His lips parted as he whispered to himself, his voice heavy with conflict.

"Now that I know both of them… who am I?"

"Am I Young Master Basilisk?"

"Or am I Yuan?"

The wind carried his question into the vast, indifferent sky.

Days passed.

He did not move.

Day or night, he remained at the pond's edge, unshaken by time, staring deep into his own reflection, searching for an answer only he could find.

And then,one day,he found it.

"I am both."

A shift in his voice. No longer as cold. A flicker of satisfaction, of realization.

"I am both Young Master Basilisk and the mortal Yuan."

"One holds thirty thousand years of life experience, the other merely ten."

The uncertainty faded, replaced by something closer to acceptance.

"Because I possess Yuan's body, his emotions, I can say I am Yuan. But the memories of Young Master Basilisk… they gnawed at my sense of self, threatening to consume me,trying to make me believe that I am him and not Yuan at all."

A small smile crept onto his face,his first in what felt like a lifetime.

"Yes… I am Yuan. I am the one who devoured the soul of the Basilisk, who inherited all of his memories, who now wields his Azure Basilisk Flames."

The chaotic storm in his mind settled.

His soul became stable.

And at last,his gaze lifted toward the endless sky.

"But none of that matters."

A newfound clarity flickered in his azure-black eyes, gleaming like cold steel beneath the sun.

"Because today, I have defied the heavens."

A soft chuckle left his lips, carrying with it a sense of triumph.

"I was nothing but prey in the grand schemes of a Soul Fusion cultivator… yet I survived."

His fingers curled, azure flames flickering at his fingertips.

"Not only did I survive… I devoured Basilisk's entire soul."

His heartbeat thrummed in his chest, steady and resolute.

"And in doing so… I healed my soul's affliction."

Yuan exhaled, slow and measured. His once hoarse voice grew stronger, steadier,more human.

"So this… this is my first act of defiance against fate."

His smile deepened.

"Not only that,I have stepped into the Blood Purification Stage."

The weight of his realization settled in. He was now a cultivator.

His smile turned razor sharp.

"A Blood Purification Cultivator."

With the first step taken, the path ahead stretched endlessly before him.

And so,Yuan's pursuit of cultivation truly began.