A faint trace of cold and calm acceptance appeared in Aksai’s mind. He slowly loosened his mental resistance.

His breathing became even softer. His awareness started to dim, just enough to make it look real. But deep inside, a part of him remained fully awake. Nuri took control over his bodily functions in order to create a fake condition.

Arkaal stood outside the formation with his hands behind his back. His sharp eyes stayed fixed on Aksai as the formation continued to run.

The green light pulsed again and again. Streams of poison essence kept flowing into Aksai’s body without pause. The air inside the chamber felt heavy, filled with a strange, dull pressure.

In Arkaal’s eyes, at first, Aksai’s breathing was steady.

Then, slowly, it began to change.

His shoulders relaxed. His head tilted ever so slightly. The tension in his body started to fade, as if he was drifting into a deep sleep.

Arkaal noticed everything.

A faint smile appeared on his face.

"Heh..."

His eyes narrowed as he watched Aksai more closely. "Even the poison constitution has its limits no matter which grade it is."

The formation was doing exactly what it was supposed to do. It was not harming Aksai’s body. Instead, it was gently pushing his mind into silence, layer by layer.

Aksai’s breathing grew softer. His awareness seemed to dim.

The poison essence still flowed into him, but his body no longer showed any resistance. It simply accepted everything. Arkaal’s smile slowly turned darker.

"Good," he muttered under his breath.

Time passed.

Aksai’s head lowered slightly, and his body swayed for a moment before becoming completely still. From Arkaal’s point of view, the young man had finally lost control over himself.

He had fallen asleep. Or rather, he had lost consciousness with no signs of immediate awakening.

Arkaal watched him for a few more seconds, making sure there was no reaction. His Spirit Sense swept over Aksai once again, checking for any hidden resistance.

He found nothing out of the ordinary. That said, Arkaal didn’t even think that a Foundation Establishment rookie could have skills to deceive him.

Satisfied, Arkaal raised his hand and stopped the formation.

The glowing lines dimmed. The humming sound faded away. The flow of poison essence came to a halt. Silence returned to the chamber.

Aksai remained seated at the center, unmoving, as if he had completely surrendered to the process. Arkaal stepped closer and looked down at him.

For a brief moment, he simply observed. Then he gave a small nod to himself.

"Perfect," he said quietly.

Without wasting any more time, Arkaal turned around and walked toward the far end of the chamber. He stopped in front of the large sealed stone door.

The formation patterns on it glowed faintly, blocking anything from entering or leaving. Arkaal raised his hand and placed it on the door.

A pulse of Spirit essence flowed from his palm. The seals began to react. One by one, the glowing patterns dimmed and broke apart. The heavy pressure around the door slowly disappeared.

With a low sound, the stone door opened. A cold, still air drifted out from the other side. Arkaal stepped inside without wasting time.

The space beyond the door was darker than the outer chamber. The walls were rough, and the air felt dry and lifeless. At the center of the space stood a large stone platform.

A formation was carved into it.

The formation glowed faintly, giving off a weak but steady light. It was different from the ones outside. It did not refine or process anything.

It sustained.

On top of the platform lay an old man.

He looked frail.

His skin was pale and thin, stretched over his bones. His hair was white and sparse, and his body barely there, holding onto its physical form somehow. At first glance, he looked dead.

Only a faint, almost invisible breath showed that he was still alive. The formation beneath him pulsed slowly, feeding him just enough energy to keep him from dying completely.

Despite his weak appearance, there was something else about him.

A presence.

It was deep and heavy, like a vast ocean hidden under a calm surface. This old man was far beyond Arkaal.

A bonafide Nascent Soul King.

He was the very same cultivator who had once risen from the Dadangar Subcontinent and reached the 4th Spirit realm centuries ago. His name had been recorded in history. Many believed he had long since died.

But he was still here. Barely alive. Sleeping on the edge of death.

Arkaal’s expression changed the moment he stepped closer. The confidence and pride he showed outside disappeared. In its place came respect.

He stopped at a distance, then slowly bowed. His posture was low and careful.

"Master," Arkaal said in a quiet and respectful voice, "forgive me for disturbing your death cultivation."

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"But... I have finally found a suitable vessel for you."

The chamber remained silent for a while after Arkaal spoke. The faint glow of the life-sustaining formation continued to pulse under the old man’s body, keeping him barely alive.

At first, nothing changed. Then, slowly, a shift appeared.

The old man’s chest rose a little deeper than before. His breathing, which had almost been impossible to notice, became slightly more clear. It was still weak, but it carried a sense of effort, as if he was trying to pull himself back from the edge.

Arkaal lowered his head and waited. A few more moments passed. The old man’s fingers twitched. Then, with great difficulty, his eyelids trembled and slowly opened.

His eyes were dull at first, lacking focus. It took him some time to gather his senses. His breathing grew a little heavier, each breath drawn with effort, as if he was forcing life back into his body.

Gradually, his gaze began to move.

His eyeballs shifted slowly, scanning the space in front of him. It took a while before his eyes finally landed on Arkaal.

Recognition appeared. But there was no warmth in it. Only anger.

"Unfilial disciple..." the old man’s voice came out dry and weak, yet it carried a chilling weight. "It seems you did not take the task I gave you seriously."

Arkaal stiffened.

"You took so much time to find me a vessel," the old man continued, his voice growing colder. "If I.... if I had to wait for another year... it would have been too late."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"Don’t think I would have gone down quietly. I would have possessed you within a month or two."

A chill ran down Arkaal’s spine. Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees.

"Master!" he said quickly, lowering his head. "I would never dare to be negligent in completing your task. It is just that the conditions you set were too strict. No vessel in the Dadangar Subcontinent could meet them easily."

He spoke carefully, choosing his words with caution.

"I... I was even planning to travel to the Shinayin Empire to search for a suitable vessel," he added. "But doing so carried great risks. Thankfully, I managed to find a Spirit cultivator here instead. He has no background, and his talent fits your requirements. I do not even need to invest too many resources or too much time."

Arkaal’s voice remained respectful, but there was clear fear behind it.

"And.... And.... You and I both know that my own constitution does not meet your standards," he continued. "Otherwise, I would have been the first to offer my body to you."

The old man stared at him.

Then, suddenly, he let out a strange, dry laugh.

"Khikhihi..."

His lips curled into a vicious smile.

"Oh?" he said. "Do you really mean that, my dear disciple?"

His gaze turned sharp.

"Then why don’t I take your body instead, since you have offered it yourself?"

The moment he said that, a terrifying pressure filled the chamber.

It was his aura.

Even in his weak state, the presence of a Nascent Soul King spread out like a crushing force. The presence of something old, rotten and sinister grew heavy, and the ground itself seemed to press down on Arkaal.

Arkaal’s body trembled.

Sweat appeared on his forehead. His heart pounded rapidly in his chest.

"Ma... master... I... I didn’t mean—"

Before he could finish, the pressure vanished.

Just like that. The old man laughed again, his voice echoing softly in the chamber.

"Khikhihki... relax, my dear disciple," he said. "I was only testing you."

His tone softened slightly, though the edge in it never truly disappeared.

"You are my good disciple. Of course, I won’t harm you."

Arkaal let out a slow breath he did not realize he was holding. He remained on his knees, but the tension in his body eased a little.

The old man’s eyes narrowed again.

"Now then," he said, "about this new vessel... are you certain it meets my requirements?"

His gaze grew sharp once more.

"Is it ready for possession?"

Arkaal quickly lowered his head again.

"Reporting to master," he said. "I have checked the vessel myself. It meets your conditions. It is suitable and ready to be possessed by you."