Ren Tai sat motionless in the silence after the storm. Not a silence of emptiness — no, this was different. It was the stillness of rebirth, of a world remade from within.
His eyes slowly closed, and his consciousness sank inward. Deeper. Past thought and breath. Into the sea of his soul.
There, floating in an endless darkness lit only by faint pulses of crimson, was the Cauldron.
It hovered vast and unyielding, suspended in his soul-space. Etched across its surface were ancient runes, unfamiliar yet familiar — symbols that resonated with something buried in the deepest parts of him. Each line glowed faintly, as if breathing. Alive.
As he stared, knowledge surged into his mind — not like a whisper, but a current. Instinctual. Natural.
The Cauldron-HeartBeast Physique — a method of flesh and Qi. The Crimson Spirit Furnace — a path for the soul. And both had now become his.
He raised a hand toward the cauldron's lid.
A flicker of crimson fire — pure soul-flame — rose from the center and hovered above it. He willed it forward, and the flame obeyed.
It drifted into the space between them, then settled onto his palm.
Warm. Not painful. It danced gently, pulsing in tune with his heartbeat. Controlled not by effort, but by will alone.
He closed his fingers. The fire vanished. A moment later, it returned to the cauldron, as if drawn back to its source.
Curious, Ren Tai extended his senses further.
The cauldron... held more than just flame.
Within it was an independent space — a vast, dark world lit by flickering crimson light. There were shelves made of obsidian stone, floating platforms inscribed with strange runes, and sealed compartments pulsing with unknown energy. A sanctum, forged not by mortals, but by the laws of heaven and soul.
It was his now.
His eyes opened slowly, returning to the physical world.
The wind of the abyss still howled far below. But here, on the jagged cliff, Ren Tai no longer felt cold.
He rose.
His body felt light — yet anchored. Dense with power. He moved his arms slowly, watching how the air bent slightly around them. With every breath, spirit Qi entered him. Not in wisps, but in streams. His body absorbed it without effort, feeding on it like firewood to a flame.
He flexed his fingers. Claws glinted under the faint abyssal glow — black, sharp, solid like obsidian.
Then he reached back, running a hand through his mane-like hair. It was wild, thick, and longer than before, streaked with threads of crimson. The beast-like features weren't deformities. They were an evolution. Symbols of what he had become.
He lowered his hand, then turned his gaze inward once more — not to the Cauldron, but to something else.
Another layer of memory.
But these memories weren't his — they belonged to Thalasar the Immortal. Who wasn't really an immortal just someone at the peak of the Spirit Ascension Realm, a Realm below what he reached in his past life — the Divine Origin Realm. Fragments of Thalasar's soul still lingered, buried under the surface like fading echoes.
Ren Tai pressed deeper. Visions unfolded: the ruins of an ancient palace buried beneath mountains, battles fought in clouds of rain and thunder.
Though he couldn't scour through everything, he managed to briefly skim through it before reaching the final image — a cold stone chamber deep within the abyss, where the immortal had sealed himself for eternity. And tucked beneath Thalasar's final resting place, hidden beneath a boulder... a space ring.
His eyes snapped open.
That ring contained some treasures and all that was left of Thalasar's legacy.
And it was close.
Ren Tai began searching along the narrow cliff path, guided by the clarity of memory. Soon, half-buried under dust and moss beneath a jagged rock, he found it — a simple, dull-gray ring that pulsed faintly with spiritual light.
He held it up.
The moment it touched his skin, a wave of information surged through his mind. With a thought, he accessed the ring's contents.
It wasn't much.
Just two hundred and fifty thousand high-grade spirit stones.
And ten mystic-grade spirit stones.
He frowned.
"That's it?"
For someone at the peak of the Spirit Ascension Realm, it was a pittance. Barely enough to rebuild a destroyed body and foundation. He had expected tomes, artifacts, perhaps entire inheritance vaults. Not this.
He dove back into Thalasar's memories, frustration flaring.
And then he saw it — the flight. The chase. The burning sky. Thalasar had been hunted. His enemies had closed in with terrifying speed, forcing him to discard most of his wealth. In the end, he had fled with only what could be hidden and used for rebirth.
Everything in this ring was meant for that purpose.
"Enough to remake one body…" Ren Tai muttered. "And not a coin more."
Still, among the contents, two items caught his eye.
A saber — long, black, crackling faintly with residual lightning. A peak 4-star weapon. Thalasar's own.
And a curved sword — red as molten glass, humming softly with fire essence. Its edge was chipped, but its aura fierce. This one had once belonged to Thalasar's enemy.
"Flame and Lightning," Ren Tai murmured. "Interesting."
He slid both weapons into the cauldron's inner sanctum, storing them for later.