Shi Hao was astonished. What kind of tree was this? How could it be like this? Utterly inconceivable! The tiny figure, no taller than a fist, flipped in the air before sitting cross-legged beneath the tree, motionless as if in deep cultivation, exuding an aura of solemn divinity. The ruthless child licked his lips—this thing must be delicious! A single blossom had transformed into a humanoid form, but would eating it be too cruel? Soon, he realized he was overthinking. With over a hundred ancient formations separating them, capturing it was impossible—it was as if an abyss of void lay between them.
The small tree stood only a foot tall, shrouded in white immortal mist, its branches and leaves flickering like stars amidst the haze. Suddenly, the second blossom transformed into a magical artifact, resonating like a Dao Bell, its tremors piercing through the formations. “Did you hear that?” Shi Hao asked.
“I sensed a strange fluctuation,” the Nine-Headed Lion replied uncertainly. The others nodded, feeling the void around them shift as if chanting scriptures, diffusing an essence of the Great Dao. Shi Hao’s heart trembled violently—he heard it clearly, his body light as a feather, his soul serene, nearly entering a state of enlightenment.
“Such an effect?” Shi Hao was astounded. The first blossom turning humanoid was one thing, but the second, separated by a hundred formations, could still induce enlightenment? If not trapped within the formations, how much more potent would it be? This was undoubtedly a supreme treasure—no, a divine and sacred spiritual root of heaven and earth, its mystery and value beyond imagination!
The tree remained still, its third blossom veiled in mist, the most enigmatic of all. The fist-sized figure sat beneath it as if in meditation, while the second blossom hovered above like a furnace, molten “lava” cascading onto the figure below. Was it tempering its body? The more Shi Hao observed, the more surreal it seemed—a mere tree, yet capable of such phenomena.
His expression remained neutral, but his mind churned. This tree was too bizarre. If he could obtain it, it would be an unparalleled fortune! Imagine merging with that tiny figure, using the artifact above to enlighten and refine his body—wouldn’t that be utterly heaven-defying?
Suddenly, the void trembled—another change at the heart of the divine valley. Shi Hao focused his dual-pupiled gaze, unwilling to miss a thing. A furnace chime echoed as the artifact dissolved into a rain of light, reforming into a blossom that returned to the tree. The tiny figure followed suit, collapsing into a flower that regrew on the branch, fresh and vibrant.
“Truly bizarre!” Shi Hao muttered. This tree was beyond extraordinary. He had assumed the blossoms would mature and fall, but instead, they cycled back. Were they sentient? Capable of cultivation? He had never heard of such a spiritual root.
“What did you see?” Huo Ling’er and the others asked, noting his shock. Shi Hao recounted everything, leaving them stunned. Even legendary sacred herbs couldn’t compare.
“No wonder an ancient divine beast perished outside the valley,” the Nine-Headed Lion mused. “With over a hundred formations guarding it, likely of heavenly deity rank, this is no ordinary matter.”
Shi Hao kept watching. The three blossoms emitted a hazy immortal aura, growing ever more mysterious. “One tree, three flowers—aligned with the Dao’s principle of ‘One begets Three, Three begets All.’ This is no coincidence,” Yun Xi remarked, her flawless face tinged with awe.
“Could this be the foremost spiritual root of the Barren Domain?” Huo Ling’er wondered, touching her forehead.
“Perhaps it doesn’t even belong to this realm,” Yun Xi said. “Why else would it be sealed under such formations? Legends say the ancient Medicine God perished over a spiritual root—could this be it?”
The implications were staggering. If the tree’s original owner still lived, the consequences of their return would be catastrophic.
For now, the formations were unbreakable. They could only wait. Shi Hao, unsettled, returned to Medicine Capital to strategize.
“Regardless, I must grow stronger,” he resolved, wandering the stone-paved streets, scouring old shops for rare herbs. The recipe for the Minor Nirvana Pill demanded dozens of precious ingredients, some near-mythical. Even in Medicine Capital, finding half was a feat.
To avoid suspicion, he enlisted the Nine-Headed Lion and others to discreetly procure the herbs. Yet, acquiring forty-eight in a single day still caused an uproar. “Who has such resources? What pill requires so many rare herbs?”
Days later, with the commotion subsiding, Shi Hao prepared to refine the herbs. Though far from the full recipe, even partial success could unlock his potential.
“I need a larger cauldron,” he said, intending to immerse himself in the concoction. The famed Firegold Vine was out of the question—its guardian deterred him. Instead, Huo Ling’er secured an ancient, spirit-infused cauldron in a secluded courtyard.
“This cauldron has refined medicine for a millennium, its spiritual essence enhancing efficacy,” the owner explained. Its golden surface gleamed, and water poured inside released a medicinal fragrance—proof of its storied past.
The rental cost was exorbitant—three spirit herbs for three days—but Shi Hao paid without hesitation. The Shi Clan’s ancestral recipe demanded nothing less.
“I will temper myself, unlock my potential, and break through. Guard me,” he told his companions, wasting no time on formalities.
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