Another scroll unfolded before him. The words written on it did not exude the transcendent aura of the Trinity of Primordial Breath, but the intensity of slaughter, totality of destruction, and the supremacy of war.
'Myriad Arms Tempering Scripture...
Temper your flesh with the weapon intent..
Temper your essence with battle intent...
Temper your soul with killing intent...
Forge the strongest battle body...'
Just reading those introductory statements were enough to make his blood boil. After all, the Desolate Saint Body and the Firmament Overlord Body were recognized among the strongest physiques, they were mainly combat oriented.
It seemed like his parents looked forward to him awakening both physiques. Hence, the ring they gave him. Both cultivation methods, be it Trinity of Primordial Breath or Myriad Arms Tempering Scripture were peerless techniques.
He began cultivating. Not by drawing in heaven and earth, but by turning his awareness inward, to the iron in his blood and the will in his heart. He reached out, and the violent echoes of the cave answered.
First came the Weapon Intent.
It was not a spiritual energy. It was a memory of sharpness, of impact. He felt it not in a meridian, but in his bones. A phantom sword and saber seemed to scrape against his skin, as if trimming it. Spear and halberd intent carved into his bones. A ghostly hammer and axe struck his joints, compacting them. His flesh screamed as it was microscopically torn and re-knit, learning the memory of steel and stone. This was the foundation—forging his physical form into a weapon with the ghosts of ten thousand arms.
Then, he called the Battle Intent.
This was a wave of pure, hot fury. It did not flow into energy channels, for he had none yet. So it flooded his blood. His purple–golden blood Qi, the vital force of his mortal body, boiled. It was infused with the essence of a thousand battlefields—the reckless courage, the desperate survival, the unyielding rage. His veins felt like they were pumping liquid fire. His heart hammered a war-drum rhythm, threatening to burst. He was tempering the very source of his life force, his blood, with the spirit of eternal war.
Finally, he faced the Killing Intent.
This was the void. It had no heat, no weight. It was the absence that followed a final breath. It bypassed his body and his boiling blood, seeping directly into his soul. It was a whisper of absolute finality, an ice that sought to freeze the very spark of his consciousness, to convince him that to cease was the only truth. It was the ultimate test of his will to exist.
His body became a tripartite hell:
...His Body was an anvil under a ghostly forge...
...His Blood was a river of fire and fury...
... His Soul was a lone candle in an endless, frozen night...
And then, the slumbering powers within him stirred.
The Firmament Overlord Body, radiated a flicker of imperial defiance. It did not command the intents, but it made his soul unyielding, a throne that the Killing Intent could not shatter.
The Desolate Saint Body, though unstable, glowed with a faint, golden resilience. It did not heal the damage, but it made his blood and flesh profoundly real, a sacred truth that the Weapon and Battle Intents could scar but could not permanently mar.
He was not just a cultivator refining himself. He was a mortal, using the most violent forces in existence to hammer his base components—flesh, blood, and soul—into something that could one day shatter heaven and earth.
He continued with the tempering until dusk. By then he'd completed the tempering process. He stood up, his body felt heavier, and his musculature more defined than before, thanks to the intent of myriad weapons, his purple–golden blood Qi brighter than before, due to the battle intent raging within him. His soul was far stronger than before, every single feature around him could be noticed.
The first thing in his mind though was...
Hunger!!!
He hurriedly began to prepare his meal with the meat he had with him. Thanks to his strengthened body, he could endure the hunger.
He grilled every piece of meat on the fire, before ravaging the meal before him. If anyone were to see the sight, they would be filled with shock. A teenage boy with the appetite of an ancient beast wasn't something anyone can imagine.
After ravaging the meal, he sat in thought. He's already a 10th stage Body Tempering realm cultivator. But his combat power should have surpassed Qi Condensation realm. He still wondered if it was enough to defeat Lin Dong at peak Foundation Establishment realm. He's never fought at full strength after all, he thought to himself.
That's a thought for another day he said to himself, before falling asleep.
---
Lin Dong sat thinking. A fifteen year old body tempering cultivator severely injured his two sons and humiliated him. If he doesn't kill him this night, he would not call himself the village Chief.
He hired other assassins from the same organization as the one previously hired. Five Foundation Establishment realm cultivators this time. There should be no room for error this time. The boy will be killed and the treasure he possessed will belong to him.