The Spirit Palace Beneath a Blood Moon

Unlike normal meridians, these new channels would be born not of harmony, but through destruction. Their sole purpose was to harness asura qi—and to devour.

He began.

Drawing the crimson strands inward, he directed them into his limbs. At once, the energy surged and burned, ravaging his right arm's meridian network. Veins ruptured, bones cracked, and flesh blistered beneath the invisible current.

Xiao Ning clenched his teeth.

Agony surged through every inch of his body, muscles tearing and bones grinding as the Asura Qi carved its way through him. Yet he did not falter.

To an ordinary cultivator, this torment would be unbearable. But to the former Li Fang—the original owner of this body—it was far from the worst he had known. In his early years, Li Fang had walked the grueling path of body refining cultivation, a discipline that treated the flesh itself as a treasure to be forged.

While most cultivators focused on drawing Qi into their meridians to strengthen their spirit, body refiners took a different route: they tempered skin, muscle, bone, and marrow through fire, pressure, poison, and pain. Every scar became a foundation. Every broken bone, a stepping stone.

They sought to turn the body into a weapon—resilient as metal, enduring as stone, and immune to ordinary harm. It was a cultivation path of brute willpower, where one advanced not through enlightenment, but through survival.

And now, it was not Li Fang who endured this pain, but Xiao Ning—an ancient soul who had lived for thousands of years, seen the rise and fall of sects and empires, and cultivated across forbidden realms.

This pain?

It was barely a tickle.

His body might scream, but his soul remained still—cold, sharp, and focused like a blade honed across eras.

For three days and nights, his body withstood the torment.

One by one, his old meridians collapsed under the pressure.

Yet in their place, new channels emerged—warped and insatiable, drinking in asura qi like parched earth after a drought.

Though not yet complete, his Asura Veins had taken root. They pulsed faintly, feeding on the surrounding miasma. He remained seated, guiding more asura qi inward, shaping the veins until they solidified—no longer formless shadows, but tangible conduits carved deep into his flesh.

Only then did he release the Paradox Meridians.

His suppressed cultivation roared back, rising swiftly to the peak of the Spirit Awakening Realm. But it was different now. His body, cleansed and reforged, merged effortlessly with the asura energy. There was no rejection—only seamless adaptation.

At the pinnacle of Spirit Awakening Realm, the next step loomed before him:

To build the Spirit Palace—using the Asura Scripture.

In the path of cultivation, the Spirit Awakening Realm was the stage where one's spiritual awareness was first born. At this realm, a cultivator could begin to sense the flow of Qi in the world around them, and with enough focus, extend their perception outward. It was the first glimpse of the invisible fabric that bound heaven, earth, and life together.

But Spirit Awakening was only the beginning.

At the peak of this realm, a cultivator stood at the edge of a new threshold—and with it, the weight of another choice.

Unlike the dantian, where Qi was stored and circulated, the Spirit Palace was not located in the body at all. It existed within the mind and soul, a spiritual chamber where one's Divine Sense—the essence of consciousness and will—could take root and grow.

The Spirit Palace was more than a shelter for the Divine Sense. It was a fortress, a throne, a sanctuary. It shaped how a cultivator perceived the world—and how they projected their will upon it. Once constructed, the Spirit Palace allowed one to form spiritual techniques, resist mental attacks, and explore realms far beyond the physical.

According to the scripture, the foundation of the Spirit Palace must be forged from soul fragments of the dead. Blood Meridian Valley, with its endless history of carnage, was the perfect crucible.

"Let's begin," he murmured.

He activated the rune and the asura qi begin to surge into his veins.

From the ground, from the stones, from the trees—they began to rise.

Soft at first. Then louder. Anguished wails, broken sobs, snarls of hatred—ghostly echoes of those who had died here.

Smokelike soul fragments drifted upward, flickering at the edge of his perception.

Xiao Ning extended his consciousness, weaving a net of will.

Carefully, he drew the fragments inward—one by one. The work was meticulous, and a single misstep could scatter the souls beyond reach.

The cries grew louder.

Frost spread across the earth. The valley darkened further, becoming even more terrifying , Yet Xiao Ning pressed on, gathering more fragments.

When he had gathered enough, he opened his eyes.

The final stage is coming.

With rune, veins, and fragments in hand, Xiao Ning would now attempt to build a Spirit Palace and a unique one that hasn't appeared in the Outer Realms before.