A month had passed since Zhuan Ming began waiting for the rain—a month of relentless cultivation and steady advancement.
Li Qingyue had mastered the basics of the Rule Path, proving both her talent and dedication. Meanwhile, Zhuan Ming had fully merged with the remaining bones, further tempering his body. His soul cultivation also progressed; thousands of phantom roots now swirled within him, though he knew the road ahead was still long.
To climb the merit point rankings, he had taken on increasingly difficult missions. The previous month, he had barely tried, landing at the bottom and earning so few points that he hadn't even bothered exchanging them. But now, having reached Rank 3, his standing had improved drastically. Though some might question his rapid growth, none dared challenge him openly—antagonizing a rising talent with such potential would be foolish.
Zhuan Ming continued his daily cultivation in his room, occasionally drawing from the spirit spring's water, which had nearly fully recovered—its energy growing denser by the day. Another strange fruit had bloomed, one unlike any he had seen before. When consumed, it left behind a white, slightly translucent string, and when consuming it there was no will that informed about it's use or path.
Intrigued, Zhuan Ming studied it daily and soon uncovered its strange properties. The string possessed no offensive power of its own, yet it could phase effortlessly through solid objects—unless they were infused with spiritual energy, which inexplicably blocked its passage. In its natural state, it stretched with elastic flexibility, but when imbued with spiritual energy, it hardened like tempered steel. Most astonishing of all was its chromatic nature—the string changed color in response to different energies: channeling Blood Path turned it a ghostly white-red, while Death Path darkened it to an ashen grey.
Curious, he attempted channeling multiple paths at once—blood, death, and even luck energy. To his shock, instead of clashing, the energies blended harmoniously, the string shifting into a swirling mix of black, red, and white, with faint traces of luck's influence.
This defied all known principles. Normally, when combining artifacts or abilities, energies would resist unless one dominated—or unless the user possessed a rare dual soul or physique. Yet here, Zhuan Ming could link artifacts without any resistance.
Testing further, he connected the string to his Death Sickle and a supplementary artifact. The result was staggering—perfect synchronization. No conflict, no backlash. If this effect scaled with stronger artifacts, this unassuming string might be the most valuable treasure he had ever possessed.