Chapter 3 Soul Passage Coffin
1031 Words
A moment later, a burst of spiritual light streaked through the dazzling golden radiance and pierced directly into Henry's Sea of Consciousness.
There floated an ancient bamboo scroll.
"This cultivation technique suits you. Channel it—now!"
Henry obeyed, but the deeper he practiced, the more something felt... wrong.
"The Record of Ten Thousand Sealed Swords? Why does this seem so familiar..."
"You've gotta be shitting me—stealing my own stuff to gift it back?"
His fury made him abandon all pretense of humility.
Then he remembered—while burying the supreme expert known as Sword Venerable, he'd received this very text: a top-tier immortal-grade cultivation manual!
Henry gnashed his teeth. The sheer gall of it!
"Focus only on the body cultivation method. Absorb the Primordial Heaven-Earth Qi first—move! Time's almost up!"
The baritone voice from the Rebirth Cave crackled with urgency, nearly breaking from strain.
Henry shut out all distractions, pouring his entire being into the technique's flow.
The Record emphasized perfect equilibrium—a rare dual-path method harmonizing spiritual and physical cultivation.
As energy cycled, every pore on Henry's body stood on end. His blood surged like a flash flood, scouring against the Primordial Qi.
Each pulse carried away wisp after wisp of the Qi, dispersing through his veins and merging with his flesh.
His body transformed—features sharpening like honed steel, complexion brightening like dawn. Damn, was he actually getting hotter?
"You're not half bad, kid..." The voice faded into silence.
Henry had no attention to spare for praise. Every last drop of strength went toward absorbing that stubborn wisp of Primordial Qi.
Then—without warning—an invisible tide began eroding him. His strength dwindled, reflexes slowed, even his lifespan and soul unraveled thread by thread.
Only where his Qi-infused blood flowed did the torment ease.
As absorption continued, Henry's mind grew leaden. Fully aware yet trapped in suffocating haze—like a specter pressing down on his chest.
As a gravedigger, he recognized the truth: the Rebirth Cave's power had infiltrated the coffin. The day he fully succumbed to slumber, every trace of his existence would dissolve here. And that—that would be his rebirth.
Just as his soul flickered like a dying candle, the baritone voice rumbled approvingly in his mind:
"Well done. After revival, you'll have the foundation to forge the Innate Xuanhuang Physique!"
【Innate Xuanhuang Physique? Rebirth?】
The physique could wait—Henry knew the basics. Purifying one's meridians with Primordial Heaven-Earth Qi forged the Xuanhuang Body.
Ranked third among the Ten Sacred Physiques of the Cultivation World, this was known as the constitution most attuned to spiritual energy in all creation.
But Henry couldn't care less about that—rebirth was all that mattered!
He was still conscious. His memories remained sharp. And that baritone voice had practically vibrated with excitement.
Did this mean... he'd get to keep his memories after reincarnation?
If true, not only could he escape the Wraithrealm of Shattered Souls, but he could travel, cultivate immortality, and even chase those pipe dreams—celestial maidens and buried treasures!
The realization punched him in the gut. Tears of pure relief spilled down his face.
"Hell yeah! Sixty freaking years—I'm finally outta this shithole!"
But just his luck—joy turned to disaster in a heartbeat.
When Henry's eyes flew open in triumph, the Rebirth Cave's scenery warped violently.
The tunnel constricted into pitch-black nothingness, swallowing every trace of light. The golden coffin tore through the darkness like a shooting star, its glow devoured by the suffocating void.
At the abyss's edge, a soft glow seeped into Henry's vision.
Two towering millstones—one ghostly pale, the other night-black—stood like gods of judgment, grinding against each other in eternal rotation. Their massive forms dominated existence itself, as if they alone defined the boundaries of reality.
The voice boomed in Henry's head again, now thick with raw reverence:
"Rebirth erases the past... the Spirit-Evolving Millstone dissolves the present... So it truly exists here!"
"Coffin Dude—wait—Ancient One... Master—"
Even inside the coffin, Henry trembled violently. It felt like his soul was about to be ripped out and ground to dust between those colossal stones.
Before he could finish, a razor-thin beam of light sliced through the darkness, freezing the coffin mid-flight.
"Running away, Lawrence? Give up the Soul Passage Coffin—now!"
The voice—a mix of honey and steel—made the cave's very space quiver. The coffin lurched like a dinghy in a hurricane.
Henry's blood turned to ice: What kind of monster could invade the Rebirth Cave, stand before the Spirit-Evolving Millstone, and stop this unstoppable coffin?
At the same moment, the baritone voice in his mind lost all composure:
"That madwoman was supposed to be meditating! We're screwed!"
Before the millstones, the luminous beam intertwined with spatial fractures, swirling like storm clouds. At their center, a jade phoenix chariot materialized—its scarlet silk curtains embroidered with winged phoenixes riding clouds.
Perched atop the chariot sat a woman so stunning it stole his breath.
Slender legs crossed with predatory grace.
Her face was elegance incarnate, but her eyes held depths darker than the void.
Gleaming silver ribbons cascaded over her shoulders, skimming the sculpted curves of her figure until they draped teasingly over her hips—enough to set any man's pulse racing.
Moonfall-pale hair flowed to her waist, framing lips painted fiery red that now curled into a smirk.
Skin like polished alabaster, features carved from jade, and a waist so narrow it could rival a blade's edge.
Henry turned into a slack-jawed mortal, his mind short-circuiting around one phrase: *heart-stopping allure*.
"Pfft—"
Even in mortal peril, twin rivulets of blood shot from his nostrils.
He'd swear on the Ethereal Genesis Platter—this wasn't his fault.
Where he came from, that woman's outfit represented temptation incarnate, second only to stockings.
A swimsuit. Not just any swimsuit—a silver-threaded confection of barely-there silk that'd make a saint reconsider vows.
"Steel your soul, boy," Lawrence's voice sliced through his consciousness. "This ends in blood or glory."
- Writer
