Chapter Seventy-Two: Wounds of the Divine Sense

“This is it.” Under Jiang Yan’s spiritual sense, a passage of spiritual consciousness, much like the one described in the Spirit Refinement Manual, appeared in his perception. Jiang Yan carefully adjusted his spiritual sense, trying to open up this spiritual passage.

A gentle hum filled the air. Behind Jiang Yan, the blue marble radiated a soft, azure glow, the pulsing light seemingly resonating with the fluctuations of spiritual power within him.

“Huh…” Just as he was about to break through his first spiritual passage, Jiang Yan felt an unexpected jolt—a sense of strangeness gripped his heart, and his spiritual sense, poised at the threshold, halted outside his body. The glow on the blue marble behind him froze as well.

A larger spiritual passage emerged in Jiang Yan’s perception.

According to the Spirit Refinement Manual, the width of the first spiritual passage a talisman master opens determines the heights they may reach in their lifetime. Therefore, the manual stresses that one must locate a passage matching the size of the one depicted in the manual before attempting to open it.

Following the manual’s guidance, Jiang Yan found the largest passage in the center of his forehead. But when his spiritual sense slipped slightly from this spot, he discovered another passage—one even larger than described in the manual.

Doubt crept into Jiang Yan’s mind. Could the Spirit Refinement Manual be mistaken? Had he truly found a passage wider than any recorded there? Driven by uncertainty, Jiang Yan directed his spiritual sense along the surface of his body, searching carefully.

“There’s another one!”

A cry of surprise echoed in Jiang Yan’s heart as, within his perception, yet another passage wider than the last appeared.

“And another…” As his awareness expanded, more and broader passages revealed themselves to him.

“It must be that my talents differ from those of Weng Changling,” Jiang Yan reasoned, attempting to explain the disparity in the size and distribution of his passages compared to the manual.

Weng Changling had been a prodigy, who, by his own exploration, developed a unique cultivation method for talisman masters. With this method, he rose swiftly to become a sixth-rank talisman master, a giant of his era. Yet his glory was short-lived; for reasons unknown, he vanished mysteriously, and his cultivation method disappeared with him. How the sect master’s system later recovered these arts to offer as a reward remained a mystery.

“If I am to do this, I’ll do it to the utmost. If I am to open a passage, I will choose the largest.” Jiang Yan set his course firmly. Since the manual, authored by a sixth-rank talisman master, advised seeking out the body’s largest spiritual passage, it could not be wrong.

“One more…”

“Another one…”

Jiang Yan sent his consciousness searching, meticulously seeking out every spiritual passage within his body.

…

“Huff… huff…” Jiang Yan slumped against the blue marble, gasping for breath. In pursuit of the largest spiritual passage within himself, he had scoured his entire body with his spiritual sense, finally confirming that the one at the center of his forehead was the greatest.

Not wanting to overlook a single passage, he had pushed his spiritual sense to probe everywhere—even beneath his feet. The effort left him utterly drained, his spiritual sense nearly exhausted, unable even to extend it outside his body. Worse yet, his whole body throbbed with pain, and his head ached as if it would split apart.

“Spiritual sense is the foundation of the cultivator; harm the sense, and the body suffers as one…”

As the agony in his body and head intensified, words from the Spirit Refinement Manual floated through Jiang Yan’s mind, and a sudden, dreadful realization dawned: “My spiritual sense is injured!”

He had not yet cultivated a sea of consciousness—no sanctuary in which to nurture his wounded sense. Now, he could only endure.

A hiss escaped him as he tried to rise. His hand, pressed to the blue marble, slipped, and his head struck hard against the stone, a searing pain raking across his scalp.

With a dull thud, Jiang Yan collapsed helplessly against the marble.

The pain robbed him of control over his body; even walking became perilous. Just shifting his position, he had already collided with the marble at the center of the platform and with the surrounding blue railings. He struggled to rise, but the pain in his head pulled him down again.

Had he attempted to descend the platform in this state, he would likely have been battered bloody by collisions. With no other choice, Jiang Yan remained seated against the blue marble, relying on the faint threads of spiritual energy emanating from it to soothe his battered body.

“If the spiritual sense is wounded, one may shrink it into the sea of consciousness and use that sea to nurture it. For those who have not yet formed such a sea, only high-grade spiritual treasures or spirit stones can restore the sense. Though these can heal spiritual wounds swiftly, they carry dire risks…”

Cradling his head in his hands, nearly overwhelmed by the pain, a passage from the manual drifted into Jiang Yan’s awareness, catching his attention: “Rely on high-grade spiritual treasures or spirit stones to heal the spiritual sense?”

Whatever the truth of these words, in his current state, with his mind nearly reduced to mush, Jiang Yan clung to them as drowning man to a lifeline. Trembling, he raised his right hand, revealing the sect master’s ring in his palm.

With a clatter, a heap of items appeared out of thin air, tumbling to the ground.

Tormented by the pain, Jiang Yan could endure no more. Hoping to restore his spiritual sense with treasures, yet unable to direct his perception into the sect master’s ring, he simply dumped everything inside out at once. The talisman formation ground was sealed—no one could intrude—so he had no fear of his belongings being seen.

Spirit stones, more spirit stones, and yet more—most were the common, low-grade stones used as currency among cultivators, hardly worthy to be called treasures.

The Coldlight Sword, the Frost Sutra, the Shadowfrost Sword Technique… all trophies seized from killing the Tianshan disciple Li Fei in Qingyang Town, but none could be called spiritual treasures.

The Firelance Sutra, the Second-Grade Azurewood Sutra—rewards from his first mainline quest—were not treasures either.

Azurewood Archery, Blackwater Sword Rain, Firelance Scorches Heaven, Yellowearth Axe Technique, Golden Flow Sword Aura—these five elemental attack methods were more rewards from the sect master’s system, but still not close to spiritual treasures.

Earthshaker Axe, Azurewood Vine, Goldenflame Sword, Inkwater Ruler—more rewards from the last mainline mission.

“What’s this?” Jiang Yan’s gaze settled on a crystalline bead.

He tugged at his scalp, struggling to recall where it had come from. Spotting the milky white porcelain bottles beneath the bead, he suddenly remembered—they had been gifts from the sect master’s system as part of his novice package.

But at the time, Jiang Yan had not examined the bead. Now, wracked with pain, he pinned all his hopes on the treasures within the ring. Yet after searching through everything, the only item he did not recognize was this bead; the rest were manuals, weapons, pills—nothing that could be called a spiritual treasure.

There were two actual treasures in the spirit beast garden—an Azure Jade Stone and a Soul Suppressing Stone, one third-grade, one second-grade—but in his state, he would collapse before reaching them.

His gaze fixed on the crystalline bead, and information about it surfaced before him.

…