A week passed, and during this time, Lin Shu didn't hunt any cultivators or mortals. Instead, he focused entirely on cultivating and training. But that didn't mean nothing was accomplished. In fact, this week might have resulted in his greatest creation yet—a defensive weapon made entirely using Ivory Dominion.
His previous battles had taught him a valuable lesson—defense was just as important as offense. His bone armor was strong, but it wasn't indestructible. Against battle skills infused with Qi, it could still break. His last fight had left him with a serious wound, and if the opponent had been stronger, he might have died. He couldn't allow that to happen again.
So he began experimenting with ways to reinforce his defenses. Through endless trial and error, he finally created something entirely new—a defensive tool that would greatly increase his chances of survival.
Lin Shu clenched his fist, feeling the weight of his new creation. This was a weapon of survival.
Now, he just needed to test it.
Ivory Monolith this was the name of his new creation which he will test now.
Lin Shu stood still, his Qi sinking deep into his flesh, commanding his bones to grow—not within, but outward. The air grew dense as his energy surged, forcing his body to mold an armor unlike any before. This was not the sleek, flexible exoskeleton he usually conjured, but something far heavier, far more absolute.
A deep, grinding crack echoed through the air as thick bone erupted from his skin, layering over his frame like the plates of an ancient colossus. His torso was the first to change—his ribs expanded outward, fusing into a dense shell that caged his body in hardened ivory. The bone did not simply form—it compacted, layer upon layer, until his entire chest was wrapped in a fortress-like barrier, shielding his core from any assault.
His shoulders swelled, jagged plates jutting out in overlapping ridges, forming a natural bulwark that loomed like the remnants of some monstrous creature. His arms thickened under the weight of reinforced gauntlets—so heavy that each motion carried sluggish resistance, his once-deadly strikes now buried beneath the sheer mass of his own defense. His legs, too, were encased in dense armor, locking him into a form that allowed no retreat, no evasion—only endurance.
Unlike his usual armor, which balanced protection and agility, Ivory Monolith was pure defense, a form that turned Lin Shu into an immovable bastion. Each step was slower, his body burdened by its own unyielding strength. He could feel his muscles strain beneath the weight, his once-fluid motions reduced to deliberate, crushing movements. His attacks, though still dangerous, lacked their previous speed—sacrificed for the sake of becoming an entity that could withstand anything.
And the cost was immense. This form did not merely drain Qi—it devoured it. The act of shaping such dense armor burned through his reserves, leaving no second chances. Once formed, he could not remake it. It was a single-use defense, a shield meant for survival at all costs.
But in this state, Lin Shu was no longer a man—he was an unbreakable monument of bone and will. An endless, looming presence that neither sword nor spell could shatter.
Lin Shu set off toward the territory of a Rank 1 early-stage blood beast—the Cinderfang Ape.
A hulking primate covered in coarse, soot-colored fur, it stood nearly two meters tall when upright. Its long arms ended in powerful, blackened claws, and its deep-set eyes smoldered with a faint, ember-like glow. When it moved, the air around it carried the scent of burnt wood and lingering heat. Occasionally, its breath released small puffs of ash, and the scars on its body seemed to smolder faintly, as if its rage was never fully extinguished.
Lin Shu had chosen this beast for a reason.
As a young Cinderfang Ape, it relied entirely on raw physical strength, unable to wield the terrifying fire-based abilities that an adult would eventually develop. A fully matured Cinderfang Ape was a true Rank 2 beast, its raw power growing alongside its body until it reached its peak. But this one was still in its early stages. While its strength was formidable, it was nothing Lin Shu couldn't handle.
But he wasn't here just to hunt.
His regular bone armor had already proven itself when he fought the cultivator a week ago. Though it had ultimately shattered against a Rank 1 battle skill, it had weakened the blow enough for him to survive. That alone made it invaluable, but now he wanted to test something greater—his Ivory Monolith.
This wasn't a reckless gamble.
He already knew that, as a body refiner, he could take direct blows from a normal Rank 1 cultivator and remain standing. His armor could withstand a low-tier Rank 1 battle skill, proving its defensive capabilities. However, the Cinderfang Ape's raw strength was on another level—almost comparable to a mid-tier Rank 1 battle skill. If his Ivory Monolith could endure that, then it would solidify its worth as his ultimate defense.
Without hesitation, Lin Shu stepped into its domain, fully prepared for the coming clash.
The Cinderfang Ape caught Lin Shu's scent almost immediately. Its nostrils flared, and it let out a deep, guttural growl before slamming its fists against the ground, sending cracks through the dirt. A clear warning. A threat.
But Lin Shu was unfazed.
Without hesitation, he launched himself at the beast, his speed halved in this form due to the sheer weight of his Ivory Monolith armor, but dodging was never part of his plan. He wasn't here to evade. He was here to take every hit head-on.
The battle erupted instantly.
The ape attacked relentlessly, its massive fists hammering down with devastating force. With its towering height, Lin Shu could only target its chest and torso, but he struck back just as fiercely. Punches and kicks flew from both sides, the force behind them sending shockwaves through the ground.
At first, his bone armor remained intact, only a few hairline cracks forming along the surface. But this was just the beginning—the Cinderfang Ape hadn't even used its full strength yet.
Then, the beast's patience snapped.
Its muscles bulged, veins popping against its soot-colored fur, and its ember-like eyes flared with fury. It was done warning him. This intruder had to die.
With a deafening roar, the ape gathered all its power—its entire frame tensed, its claws curled into a solid, unrelenting fist—and then it swung.
Lin Shu barely had time to brace.
His arms rose instinctively, shielding his chest as the ape's full-powered strike connected.
The impact was thunderous.
The ground beneath them cracked and shook, sending spiderweb fractures through the earth. Dust exploded into the air, obscuring everything in a choking cloud.
The Cinderfang Ape panted heavily, its breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. But before it could strike again, a bone monolith came crashing into its chest, forcing it backward.
As the dust settled, Lin Shu stood his ground.
His Ivory Monolith armor was cracked all over, fractures running deep through its surface—but it wasn't destroyed. It had endured the beast's strongest blow. That was all he needed to confirm. Testing was over.
Now, it was time to kill.
Lin Shu surged forward, burying his fist into the ape's stomach, driving it back. The beast roared and retaliated, but he ducked low, rushing straight into its legs. His shoulder slammed into its gut, forcing it off balance—he wanted to take away its height advantage.
The moment it fell backward, Lin Shu unleashed hell.
Punch after punch rained down.
His fists became relentless, striking the ape's skull, its chest, its arms—wherever he could reach. The Cinderfang Ape screeched in agony, thrashing wildly, trying to escape, but Lin Shu didn't let up.
It struck back desperately, its claws raking against his armor, but its attacks were growing weaker. It was tiring, its movements sluggish. That was exactly what Lin Shu had been waiting for.
With a vicious snarl, he drove his clawed gauntlet into the beast's wrist, tearing through muscle and bone. The ape howled, its arms failing to protect itself any longer.
And then—
Lin Shu's claws found its throat.
A single, brutal rip.
The Cinderfang Ape's flesh tore apart, and blood gushed out like a fountain, splattering across the battlefield.
The beast convulsed, its ember-like eyes flickering—then, slowly, it went still.
After the battle ended, Lin Shu stood over the Cinderfang Ape's corpse, his breath steadying. His armor was battered, cracks webbing across its surface, but it had held through the fight. That was enough for now.
His stomach growled.
Meat.
The thought crossed his mind, and without hesitation, he began tearing into the carcass, peeling away layers of thick, soot-colored fur and cutting through muscle. The ape's body was dense, its flesh tough, but he was no stranger to butchering kills.
Yet, as he carved deeper—his claws slick with blood—something hard and smooth pressed against his fingers.
He paused.
Frowning, he dug further, fingers closing around a small, solid sphere, roughly the size of a baby's fist.
It was warm to the touch, dense with Qi, as if the energy of the beast had crystallized within it.
Lin Shu's eyes narrowed.
He had never encountered something like this before.
He had hunted bloodbeasts in the past, but lately, his focus had been on cultivators, using them to sharpen his skills and steal resources. Selling bloodbeast corpses was pointless when he was too far from any town to make a profit. Besides, the books he had bought barely contained any useful information on bloodbeasts, so he had never looked into them deeply.
Yet now, holding this sphere in his palm, he realized how little he knew.
Whatever this was, it was valuable. He could feel the Qi swirling inside it, compact and potent.
He kept it.
He would inquire about it later.
After reaching his hideout, Lin Shu sat down, his breathing steady but deep in thought.
"Ivory Monolith can probably withstand a mid-tier Rank 1 battle skill," he mused, recalling the fight.
The Cinderfang Ape's strongest strike had cracked the armor but hadn't completely broken through. From what he had observed, the ape's physical power was almost comparable to a true mid-tier Rank 1 battle skill, which meant his armor could likely take one direct hit from such an attack before it's destroyed. Against low-tier Rank 1 skills, he could probably endure multiple blows before it gave out.
But the fight had also exposed its limitations.
His speed had been halved.
Even though the ape wasn't exceptionally fast, he had been unable to dodge properly. Every movement had felt slower, heavier, his reactions dulled by the thickness of the armor. His flexibility had also suffered—his attacks lacked fluidity, and he was forced to take blows head-on.
Still, it was a life-saving technique.
Something to bet on when there were no other options left.
But the biggest flaw?
He could only use it once before his Qi was nearly drained.