Chapter Thirty-Two: Brewing the Blade’s Divine Power

Zhou Bai took the book and leafed through it. The contents were rather profound, but fortunately, his predecessor had at least been a scholar, and he had inherited some of those memories—enough that he could comprehend it, if not perfectly. He also understood Wang Zhen’s intention: to use Wen Meng’s words as a gentle warning, advising him not to pursue the path of forging a life-bound ghost instrument using external objects.

Still, Zhou Bai was not entirely willing to give up. After all, the other cultivation methods did not suit him, and only the path of external refinement could potentially carry the ever-growing number of ghostly arts he hoped to master. This particular technique was called “The Art of Relying on Objects,” chosen for him by Wang Zhen. Among similar methods, it was the most common; the others often required specific attributes for the life-bound ghost instrument, but that did not mean it lacked potential.

In fact, “The Art of Relying on Objects” was likely one of the earliest ghostly cultivation methods ever created, making it widely applicable. Given Zhou Bai’s vision for his life-bound ghost instrument, Wang Zhen could find no better suited technique and had no choice but to offer him this one.

Zhou Bai flipped through several pages, the frown on his brow slowly easing as he found what he was seeking. On one hand, the system’s prompt had already sounded, confirming that this technique would allow him to take shortcuts. On the other, he discovered a solution to the drawbacks of externalizing the life-bound ghost instrument.

“As the method states, once I reach the second level and merge my spiritual consciousness with the life-bound ghost instrument, I’ll be able to draw it back into my core, won’t I?”

Wen Meng saw his determination and replied, “That’s right, but this technique depends entirely on talent. Some reach the second level in a few months; others, like me, may never touch its threshold in a lifetime.”

“I’d still like to try,” Zhou Bai said, shaking his head. No matter his innate talent, since the system recognized this technique, he could rely on points to advance.

Seeing his resolve, Wen Meng said no more and instead took a few yellowed sheets of paper from his robe. “These are my insights into refining a life-bound ghost instrument. Take them—may they help you reach the second level swiftly.”

Zhou Bai thanked him and tucked the notes away. He might not need them, but the gesture was genuine and well-intentioned.

“You may begin cultivating now. Should you have questions, ask either of us. The spiritual material you need will arrive in Hangdu in a few days; then you can begin formal practice. Besides your ghostly arts, you also possess human arts. Since you’re determined to walk the path of external refinement, it’s not impossible. Even if you fail, you have human arts as a safeguard.”

Wen Meng relaxed a bit at Wang Zhen’s words, yet doubt still lingered in his heart. In the end, was the golden glow Zhou Bai displayed a human art, or was it that astonishing final sword strike?

Having finished, Wang Zhen conjured a package from thin air and tossed it onto Zhou Bai’s table. “Inside are items from the Nether Records Bureau—clothes and a token. The token is a magical tool; after slaying demons or spirits, keep it on your person and it will record your contributions. It can also be used for communication.”

After some brief final instructions, Wang Zhen retired to her guest room. The battle had left Zhou Bai’s nerves taut; now, with the tension gone, he felt the fatigue set in. He picked up his package, bid farewell to Wen Meng, and returned to his own room.

Only Wen Meng remained in the courtyard, sipping wine absentmindedly. After years of labor for the Nether Records Bureau, suddenly being assigned a post as a station guard left his feelings tangled and complex.

As soon as Zhou Bai’s head touched the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep, not even bothering to sort his rewards. He slept for a full day and night, dreaming a long and vivid dream in which countless demons and monsters surged at him. Blades in hand, he cut a bloody path through them, seven times in and out.

When Zhou Bai finally awoke, his mind was even more dazed, as if he could no longer distinguish dream from reality. Hunger quickly brought him back to his senses. Rising, he saw several dishes set on the wooden table, already cold from sitting too long.

But Zhou Bai was famished and cared little for such details. He devoured the food ravenously, and within minutes, the entire table was cleared. Only after he’d eaten his fill did he feel truly alive again. Silently, he summoned the system interface in his mind.

Zhou Bai

Mastered: Yin-Yang Eyes (6%), Death Curse (1%), Brewing Blade (1%)
Points: 12

After slaying the little ghost born from the idol’s corpse, the system log recorded it as having defeated a fragment of the Anu God, awarding him ten points.

Brewing Blade was the divine art gained after his sword-forging method advanced. Like Death Curse, it was a human art, entirely centered around the “blade.”

So long as Zhou Bai sheathed his blade and kept it on his person, this divine art would continuously brew blade intent within the scabbard. This blade intent not only made the sword stronger and more resilient but could also be unleashed with a draw—the power depending on how long the intent had brewed.

It was a highly practical art, greatly enhancing Zhou Bai’s offensive options. Most importantly, human arts carried no drawbacks.

The only regret was that his cleaver was a beheading blade—broad and unwieldy, ill-suited for drawing techniques. He would need to find a more suitable weapon.

After washing up, Zhou Bai opened Wang Zhen’s package and donned the uniform of the Nether Records Bureau. The clothing was a bit loose, entirely black, adorned with simple silver patterns, and topped with a small black cap.

He was quite satisfied with the uniform—not only was it elegant and understated, but the fabric was exceptionally tough; Zhou Bai could not tear the sleeve with ordinary strength.

The token was even more remarkable. Its material was unknown, and on the front was engraved a strange beast with a dragon’s head, turtle’s body, and snake’s tail—a Black Tortoise. On the reverse were the words “Nether Records Bureau.”

The Black Tortoise symbolized the North and the underworld; “Wu” and “Ming” were ancient homophones—“Wu” meaning black, and “Ming” meaning the shade or underworld. Legend held the underworld lay to the north, hence the Black Tortoise was also called the Northern Deity.

The north was rife with chaos, and the Bureau’s main operations were centered there.

Around the Black Tortoise were countless dim stars, save one that glimmered faintly. This represented contributions—the more stars that shone, the greater the merit. Zhou Bai could use his contribution points at Nether Street to buy materials, techniques, or elixirs.

There was nothing else in the package, so Zhou Bai turned to “The Art of Relying on Objects,” quickly flipping to the final page. As the last page turned, the book crumbled into ash in his hands, and his system panel now listed “The Art of Relying on Objects” at 1% proficiency.

He did not immediately spend points to increase his mastery. Having not yet refined his life-bound ghost instrument, he dared not recklessly advance a ghostly art.