Two years had passed, and so much had transpired in these turbulent seas. The azure waters stretched vast and boundless, the islands and reefs lay serene, yet the Kun Peng’s Nest remained unbreached—no one had truly obtained that legendary Treasure Spell. Over these years, countless powerful figures had come and gone, leaving behind trails of fallen warriors, their corpses littering the ocean floor. The battles had dyed the once-blue waters crimson, as waves of heroes rose and fell, replaced time and again.
Now, the news had spread far and wide, impossible to conceal. Every capable expert had emerged, seeking to crack open the divine nest—yet all had failed. Even some revered elders had secretly infiltrated, scrutinizing the Kun Peng’s Dao Field, only to find themselves helpless. A few even suffered humiliating defeats, their cultivation suppressed, nearly perishing on the spot.
The mysterious girl had vanished without a trace, but the legend of the two infamous thieves endured, whispered among the masses. Their audacious robbery of Jiao Peng’s spiritual avatar had been witnessed and exposed, leaving the world in stunned disbelief. Who were these ruthless outlaws, daring to strike at a revered elder?
Sympathy poured in for Jiao Peng, whose reputation had been utterly tarnished. A being of such might, humiliated and plundered by two youngsters—it was beyond words. Enraged, he dispatched swarms of his kin, flooding the seas with flood dragons in a desperate hunt for the culprits.
Once a figure who dominated the Northern Seas, unrivaled and untouchable, now reduced to a laughingstock. Every sighting of a flood dragon drew knowing smirks, a reminder of his disgrace. Even older experts, humbled by their own suppressed cultivation, found solace in his misfortune—if even Jiao Peng could be bested, what shame was there in their own setbacks?
Thus, Jiao Peng became synonymous with tragedy, while the two thieves remained etched in memory as a tale of audacity. Yet, their absence grew prolonged—the elusive demon girl unseen for two full years, and the reckless boy appearing only sporadically, always slippery and evasive.
Now thirteen, Shi Hao had shed his childish naivety, though his mischievous nature remained. His notoriety only grew—after learning of the flood dragons hunting him, he secretly ambushed and thrashed Jiao Peng’s eighteen grandsons, stripping them of their treasures before sending them back as a warning. Such brazen threats to an elder—only he could be so ruthless.
Over these years, many hostile experts had fallen victim to his ambushes, battered by his Divine Smiting Stone until his name alone struck fear. Yet none dared speak of their humiliations, swallowing their pride in silence.
Now, taller and more striking, with flowing black hair, Shi Hao sat cross-legged in the depths of the ocean, within the Yang Extreme Cavern. There, he tempered body and spirit with primordial flames so fierce they nearly charred his flesh. Yet he remained serene, unflinching, his gaze steady.
Days passed as layers of scorched skin peeled away, revealing a jade-like physique, stronger than ever. Few could endure such torment—refining the body with true fire, teetering on the brink of destruction, only to emerge reborn. His unyielding will was the foundation of his strength.
Yet, his goal was not physical perfection—his flesh had long reached its peak. Instead, he sought to reshape his spirit, reforging his true self. The Transformation Spirit Realm had three stages: Flesh as Spirit, Remolding the True Self, and Nurturing Spirits in the Caverns.
With his unparalleled talent, Shi Hao had surged through these stages in just two years, reaching heights that would stagger the world. At thirteen, he stood at the pinnacle of the Transformation Spirit Realm—a feat that would shake the entire Barren Domain.
Even among the pure-blooded beings of the ancient divine mountains, none could match his pace. Yet he remained unsatisfied, pushing beyond limits, striving for the legendary.
In the Yang Extreme Cavern, his spirit burned like a flame, tempered by the divine fires even the Kun Peng had once praised. His consciousness neared nirvana, shedding impurities, emerging stronger each time.
Then, to the Mystic Ice Abyss he went, enduring bone-shattering cold that froze even souls. Here, his spirit was honed anew, resisting the icy oblivion until it blazed once more, resilient and unbroken.
Back and forth between fire and ice he journeyed, each cycle refining him further. Until at last—breakthrough.
“I’ve reached the legendary state!” Shi Hao’s eyes snapped open, his True Self now perfected. Around him, visions of a Kun Peng and a roaring Lion-Dragon circled, as if alive, resonating with his triumph.
The path of cultivation was long and arduous, but he had widened it for himself, reshaping not just his spirit—but his destiny.
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