The persistent fly that had been hovering around the meeting reluctantly returned to its abode, a place where jagged cliffs loomed over a serene lake.
It gracefully settled beside a young man who sought solace beneath the sheltering branches of a majestic pine tree.
As the tiny creature's feet touched the ground, an ethereal shadow of a dragon emerged from its minuscule form, effortlessly merging with the young man's being.
In an instant, his eyes sprung open, revealing piercing, slit dark magenta pupils that surveyed the world with newfound intensity.
"Ahh, so this is the sensation of assuming an animal's essence," the young man mused, his voice resonating with a hint of intrigue.
He deftly gathered his long, pale sandy hair into a single tie, his gaze shifting to the fly that had served as his experimental vessel.
Now reduced to a dried husk, only its oversized eyes and a residue of yellow liquid resembling blood remained.
"It was a somewhat entertaining venture, but alas, an ordinary creature cannot serve as a worthy conduit," he lamented, shaking his head in disappointment.
With a flick of his lengthy slave robe, the young man effortlessly banished the lifeless fly along with its remnants of blood.
Simultaneously, the empty air before him seemed to ripple and distort, forming a fissure that unveiled a vast expanse of black, starlit void. Amidst this cosmic tapestry, a figure gradually materialized as the young man directed his gaze towards it.
Sensing his presence, the figure promptly lowered itself to a half-kneel, head respectfully bowed. "Please forgive my impertinence, young master!"
As the Earth spun on its axis, moonlight followed suit, casting its luminous glow upon the figure, revealing the unmistakable features of an aged and feeble-looking old man, known to the denizens of the hall as Venerable Lord.
"No need to fret, I find myself unoccupied. Merely indulging in some newfound abilities since entering this realm," the young man replied, nonchalantly waving his hand.
His calm scrutiny narrowed upon the old man, his mind recalling the image of this individual exuding an air of power and dominance within the hall.
He couldn't help but find amusement in the fact that the same person now knelt before him, exuding utmost respect.
The young man, Xia Wei, had transmigrated his soul into the fly, while the figure who had arrogantly portrayed himself as the Venerable Lord in the assembly was his guardian, Xia Ping.
"Congratulations, young master! May the heavens bestow upon you their abundant blessings. With you as the heir, the Xia family's glory shall surpass all previous bounds," Xia Ping, or Old Ping, showered him with praises, as if well-versed in the art of flattery.
Hidden behind his enigmatic gaze, Xia Wei pondered the sincerity of Old Ping's words. Surprisingly, he found a genuine spark of joy in the old man's eyes and an unfeigned enthusiasm in his tone.
It truly seemed that Old Ping harbored profound gratitude for his promotion to this higher realm.
What an audacious technique of bootlicking! I underestimated the people of this world. The words from those novels have become a reality.
Hahaha, Xia Wei chuckled inwardly, seemingly accepting Old Ping's accolades.
"You have truly mastered the art of flattery, Old Ping," Xia Wei exclaimed, his grin widening. There was no harm in both praising and being praised by others.
"Now, inform my family that I require the soul of a Sub Dragon to ascend to the next realm," he declared, his countenance abruptly transforming into one of grave seriousness.
"Yes, young master!" Old Ping responded with unwavering swiftness. "This shall be neither a blessing nor a curse," he murmured to himself upon hearing his young master's command.
Finally, he heaved a sigh, massaging his weary brow as he regarded the young master who had effortlessly reached the Peak-Stage of the Nascent Soul realm in a mere instant, his expression betraying a mixture of melancholy and elation.
"I suppose it's more of a curse than a blessing," Old Ping muttered in a hushed tone, his gaze fixed upon the pine tree leaves that danced in the air before descending gracefully into the river, floating along its silver current.
Indeed, normal Nascent Soul Cultivators would never encounter such a bottleneck. Only those who relied on a Bloodline as their primary cultivation technique would perpetually require the soul of a sub-race beast to break through into the Soul Formation realm.
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Thousand Illusionary Sect, Lower Area, Training Ground,
With the rising sun casting its golden glow upon the world, the vibrant colors of three-winged birds fluttered and resonant melodies filled the air amidst the remnants of the destroyed rooms.
Xia Wei, still seated in a cross-legged position beneath the protective shade of the pine tree, opened his eyes and surveyed the bustling square. Numerous disciples engaged in rigorous training, occasionally stealing glances at him before quickly averting their gazes.
As he inhaled the crisp morning air through his nostrils, the gentle breeze teased his neatly tied hair, while the harmonious atmosphere of people shouting and practicing lent a sense of tranquility.
This refreshing ambiance revitalized his body, setting the tone for a promising day ahead.
However, beneath the façade of their diligent training, the disciples' outward appearances betrayed a multitude of emotions.
The events of the previous night had claimed many lives, predominantly those of the outer disciples. Their faces revealed a tinge of sorrow for the fallen comrades.
"Life is a precious gift, but it is bestowed only upon those who wield power," Xia Wei murmured softly, his eyelids fluttering shut once more, as he immersed himself in the symphony of birdsong and the melodious flow of the nearby stream.
The surrounding Qi resonated with a harmonious energy, coursing through his meridians, purifying his body of impurities.
"It all feels different, perhaps because I have just broken through to this new realm," he contemplated, as his mind wandered.
Just then, the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears, accompanied by a subtle fragrance of blooming flowers that grew stronger with each passing moment.
The disciples' shouts abruptly ceased, shrouding the area in an eerie silence. Xia Wei could discern murmurs from the crowd, their attention seemingly fixated on him.
"Good morning, esteemed guest. I apologize if my presence has interrupted your morning routine," a mellifluous and soothing voice roused him from his musings, bringing him back to reality.
Xia Wei, with his dark magenta eyes and slit-like pupils, opened his gaze, directing it towards the young woman who gracefully leaned forward, her white Hanfu gently revealing a hint of her supple bosom amidst its peach-colored fabric.