Void Cultivation-Chapter 215- Refinining the Soul Weapon (2)

However... Grey soon discovered that refining the purple scythe was far more difficult than he had initially imagined.

Among the jade slips he had plundered from the old man’s corpse, there was one particular art specifically meant for refining soul weapons. Back then, he hadn’t paid it much attention. Now, standing face to face with the purple scythe once more, he finally understood why such an art even existed.

From the very beginning, this soul weapon had been extremely malicious. It was filled with a deep, bone-chilling sinister intent that was clearly directed at Grey himself. When he had first encountered it, it was nothing short of sheer luck that allowed him to survive its backlash.

This time, however, Grey did not intend to merely escape.

He wanted to claim it.

Right now, even as he poured out all his physical strength and activated his Special Brilliance form, the sharp, biting aura emanating from the scythe was enough to slice open his palm. A thin cut appeared on his hand, and crimson blood slowly seeped out, dripping onto the cave floor.

The wound was small and very insignificant.

Yet the moment his blood touched the scythe, the soul weapon vibrated violently, as though it had been provoked. The trembling was so intense that Grey felt a deep sense of danger crawl up his spine. He was certain that if he dared to let go at this moment, the scythe would retaliate instantly.

Although his strength had increased by leaps and bounds compared to before, the weapon still gave him an overwhelming feeling of life and death.

’This weapon is definitely a treasure.’ Grey thought, his gaze sharpening. ’If I can successfully refine it and make it my own, it will become another powerful trump card. However...’

His brows knitted slightly.

’I can’t plant my divine sense in it.’

This was the core of the problem.

No matter how carefully he tried, no matter how much power he restrained or released, imprinting his divine sense onto the purple scythe proved nearly impossible. The instant his divine sense touched it, it was forcefully repelled by a strange and hostile power.

What surprised Grey was that this resistance did not seem to come from the weapon itself.

Instead, it was the will of the sentient spirit dwelling within the scythe.

That will was fierce, arrogant, and utterly unwilling to submit to another master. As if enraged by Grey’s attempt, an even denser murderous aura flooded out from the weapon, washing over the cave like a tide of death.

In an instant, a terrifying pressure filled the enclosed space.

The air grew heavy. Breathing became difficult. Even standing still required immense effort, as though an invisible mountain had descended upon the cave.

Grey’s expression remained calm, unchanged by the oppressive force. However, a faint frown gradually formed on his face as the pressure forced his body to slide backward. He let himself settle into a cross-legged position on the ground, stabilizing his breathing.

Despite everything, Grey did not panic.

With a single thought, his shadow peeled itself off the ground beneath his feet and rose before him.

The shadow quickly grew taller, its form twisting and solidifying until it took on Grey’s appearance. However, this version of Grey was very different. He had no gray hair, no lifeless eyes. Instead, his hair and pupils were pitch black, as were the clothes clinging tightly to his body.

At this moment, the shadow did not display its usual cold contempt toward Grey.

Instead, it stared at the purple scythe with a rare hint of wariness.

When Grey noticed that the shadow was hesitating, he let out a cold harrumph. Through the deep connection between them, he directly sent the suppressive power of the purple crystal toward it.

A moment later, the muddled darkness in the shadow’s eyes cleared.

Without wasting a second, its body violently twisted and transformed.

The shadow turned into a towering pitch-black tree, its surface rough and ancient. There were no leaves on its branches, only long, jagged limbs that looked sharp enough to split a person in half. At the center of its trunk, a single crimson eye opened slowly, staring directly at the purple scythe.

As the transformation completed, several branches shot forward like spears, stretching toward the soul weapon.

The moment the branches approached, the scythe erupted in fury.

Violent fluctuations rippled through the cave as the sentient spirit released an even more terrifying murderous intent. The scythe struggled wildly, its blade humming and vibrating as if trying to break free.

But Grey held it firmly in his grasp.

No matter how violently it struggled, it could not escape. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Sweat poured down Grey’s forehead as veins bulged on his arms. At the same time, the branches wrapped tightly around the handle of the purple scythe, restraining it completely.

Seizing the opportunity, Grey attempted to refine the scythe once more.

This time, however, his divine sense did not attack from a single direction.

One stream of divine sense flowed through his physical body, while another surged through the shadow-tree, striking the soul weapon simultaneously from two sides.

The resistance was still there.

His divine sense was still repelled.

But this time, the rebounding force was slower.

Noticeably slower.

Seeing this, a brilliant glint flashed across Grey’s eyes. Without hesitation, he continued pouring his divine sense into the scythe, relentlessly attacking its defenses again and again.

Time slowly passed.

Then, a shrill, piercing cry suddenly echoed from within the purple scythe.

It was the scream of the sentient spirit itself.

Grey’s divine sense had finally broken through the rebounding force and struck directly at the spirit dwelling inside the weapon.

The moment that happened, Grey did not hesitate in the slightest.

He forcefully sent his divine sense deep into the soul weapon.

As Grey’s divine sense poured in, the world around him shattered.

There was no space, no sky, no ground, only a boundless violet void saturated with murderous intent. The moment his consciousness stabilized, an overwhelming hatred crashed into him like a tidal wave, sharp enough to tear at his thoughts.

A figure hovered within the void.

It had no legs. Its lower body dissolved into drifting mist, as if it had never truly belonged to reality. Four eyes burned on its face, each one locked onto Grey with naked killing intent. Long, tangled hair floated wildly around its head, writhing like living shadows.

The spirit’s skin was pale, unnaturally so, but it was not weakness that radiated from it.

It was resentment.

Hatred so dense it felt solid.

Grey felt it instantly. Not just the desire to kill, but the fury of something that had been sealed, bound, and denied for far too long. Beneath the storm of emotions, something deeper was suppressed, locked away by force. That suppression was the source of the spirit’s madness.

Before Grey could probe further, the spirit let out a low, distorted growl.

The void trembled.

In the next instant, it lunged.

Its mouth tore open far wider than it should have, rows of sharp, jagged teeth exposed as it rushed toward Grey’s divine sense, intent on devouring him whole.

Grey did not retreat.

Though his form was faint and insubstantial, his eyes remained calm, cold, even.

He raised his palm.

The violent hatred slamming toward him froze.

A heavy suppressive force descended instantly, pressing down on the spirit like an invisible hand. Its four eyes widened in shock as it struggled, trying to pull away.

Only to realize it could not.

The suppression twisted.

What had been pressure became suction.

The spirit was dragged forward against its will, screaming silently as it was pulled toward Grey. In the blink of an eye, it was right in front of him.

Grey’s palm struck forward.

The impact was silent, yet the entire violet void rippled violently.

Grey’s divine sense surged into the spirit’s chest, invading it completely. Countless threads of will spread out, forming a brand deep within its core, a mark of absolute control.

The spirit convulsed, its hatred erupting wildly, but it was already too late.

The brand settled.

From that moment on, its life and death were no longer its own.

With a single thought, Grey could command the soul weapon freely, or reduce it to nothing, erasing the spirit along with it.

Though the process seemed long and fierce, in reality, fewer than twenty breaths had passed since Grey’s divine sense first invaded the soul weapon.