Outside Long Shen's body—
A violent surge of demonic energy erupted.
Violet-black qi burst from his pores like flames tearing through cracked earth. The air inside the cave twisted violently, pressure slamming outward in suffocating waves. Loose stones shattered midair, reduced to dust before they could hit the ground.
Long Shen arched violently.
A scream tore from his throat—raw, hoarse, inhuman.
His body convulsed as demonic energy rampaged within him, veins bulging unnaturally beneath his skin, glowing faintly violet as if something alive was crawling through his blood.
The Thief King staggered back a step, eyes wide with disbelief.
"What—what is happening to him?!" he shouted, panic bleeding into his voice. "Why is his aura becoming like this?!"
The Divine Doctor stood frozen, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
His sharp eyes swept over Long Shen's trembling body, sensing deeper, further—past flesh, past meridians, straight into the shattered spiritual sea.
His teeth ground together.
"I don't know," he said slowly, the words heavy. "But that demonic energy… it's far too overwhelming."
Another wave of violet qi exploded outward.
The cave walls cracked audibly.
"It's not stabilizing," the Divine Doctor continued grimly. "It's tearing him apart. Body, meridians—"
His voice lowered.
"—and soul."
The Thief King cursed under his breath.
He moved instantly, spiritual energy surging through his palms as he struck toward the formation beneath Long Shen.
Boom!
The formation flared violently, runes flashing as a repelling force blasted him backward. He skidded several steps across the stone floor, barely managing to regain his balance.
"Damn it!" he roared. "It's locked! I can't break it!"
Long Shen screamed again.
This time, blood spilled from the corner of his mouth.
The Thief King turned sharply. "Divine Doctor!" he barked. "Do something! At this rate, he won't last another breath!"
The Divine Doctor closed his eyes.
For a brief moment, the chaos seemed to fade around him. His breathing slowed. His consciousness sank inward, calculations flashing through his mind—possibility after possibility, each more dangerous than the last.
Then—
His eyes snapped open.
"There is… one way," he said.
The Thief King spun toward him instantly. "Then why are you still standing there? Use it!"
The Divine Doctor hesitated, just for a heartbeat.
"I don't know if it will work," he said honestly.
The cave trembled again.
Another scream ripped from Long Shen's throat, his body lifting several inches into the air under the violent surge of demonic qi.
The Thief King's face twisted.
"We don't have time to hesitate!" he shouted. "If there's even a chance—use it!"
The Divine Doctor exhaled slowly.
"…Very well."
He raised his hand.
A ripple passed through the space beside him.
From within his storage ring, a radiant golden light spilled forth, instantly pushing back the oppressive violet aura filling the cave. The demonic qi recoiled as if encountering a natural enemy.
A pill emerged.
Perfectly round.
Its surface shimmered with flowing golden patterns, faint lotus-shaped symbols appearing and vanishing across it. Pure divine energy poured from it in steady waves, filling the cave with a sense of clarity and warmth that sharply contrasted the demonic chaos.
The Thief King froze.
His pupils shrank.
"S–Such pure spiritual energy…" he whispered. "This aura… it's terrifyingly refined."
He swallowed hard.
"What kind of pill is that?"
The Divine Doctor's gaze lingered on the pill for a brief moment, a flicker of distant memory passing through his eyes.
"This," he said slowly, "is a gift I received many decades ago."
His voice remained calm, but the weight behind it was undeniable.
"I once cured the Buddhist Sect from a calamity that nearly wiped them out—a disease that devoured both flesh and soul. In exchange, their patriarch entrusted me with this."
The Thief King's breath hitched.
"…The Buddhist Sect?" he repeated, disbelief seeping into his tone. "One of the greatest sects of the orthodox path?"
The Divine Doctor nodded.
"The Great Bodhi Awakening Pill."
The golden pill pulsed softly, as if responding to its name.
"It is a pill of the mind," the Divine Doctor continued. "When consumed, it floods the spiritual sea with pure divine energy—suppressing even the fiercest demonic corruption and forcibly restoring clarity to a collapsing soul."
The Thief King's jaw slowly dropped.
"…So the rumors were true," he muttered. "You really did save the Buddhist Sect's lives."
"That is why they gave me this treasure," the Divine Doctor replied quietly.
He tightened his grip slightly.
"This pill contains the remnant divine energy of their Abbot himself."
His gaze shifted back to Long Shen—writhing, screaming, on the verge of destruction.
"I only hope," the Divine Doctor said, voice grave, "that it lives up to its name."
Good. This is a key scene — the core of the entire novel.
You're absolutely right: this scene must not be shortened. It must breathe.
Below is a fully expanded, refined, light-novel style rewrite of only this scene, following your outline line by line, keeping everything, correcting dialogue, improving flow, and showing instead of telling.
Nothing important is removed. Nothing is rushed.
Golden light erupted from the Divine Doctor's palm.
His spiritual energy surged forward, forcefully thrusting the pill into Long Shen's mouth. The moment it touched flesh, the pill dissolved, melting into pure radiance that poured down Long Shen's throat like molten sunlight.
Long Shen's body arched violently.
A scream tore from his chest—raw, hoarse, stripped of all restraint.
Golden light burst outward from his pores, flooding the cave with blinding brilliance. The stone beneath him cracked as divine energy surged uncontrollably, colliding head-on with the raging violet demonic formation beneath his body.
Boom!
The cave trembled.
Divine and demonic energies slammed into each other like two opposing worlds, neither yielding, neither retreating. Violet lightning split the air. Golden runes ignited one by one, struggling to suppress the rampant corruption.
The formation screamed.
Runes fractured.
Then—
The entire array twisted inward.
Space itself warped.
A裂—裂—裂 sound echoed as the formation tore open, ripping a jagged rift through the air above Long Shen's body.
From within that rift poured golden light—vast, pure, and immeasurably calm.
Inside Long Shen's sea of consciousness—
Cheon Ma's laughter died mid-breath.
The raging violet demonic energy froze.
Golden radiance flooded the fractured spiritual sea, washing over shattered fragments of consciousness like a tide of dawn sweeping away endless night. Wherever the golden light passed, the corrosive demonic energy hissed and retreated.
Cheon Ma staggered back a step.
"What…?"
His crimson eyes narrowed, disbelief flashing through them.
"What is this?"
The golden energy gathered.
It did not rush.
It did not roar.
It flowed—slow and deliberate—converging at the center of the sea of consciousness. The radiance condensed, layer by layer, until a figure emerged from within the light.
A monk.
He stood barefoot upon the fractured spiritual sea, clad in simple robes that shimmered faintly with divine script. His shaved head gleamed softly, his expression calm, composed, as though nothing in this world could disturb his heart.
The moment Cheon Ma saw him, his pupils shrank violently.
"…Xuan Kong?"
His voice cracked.
"No—this is impossible. You died."
The monk opened his eyes.
They were clear, tranquil, deep beyond measure.
"Cheon Ma," Abbot Xuan Kong said gently, his voice steady as still water. "Even after death, you continue to sow chaos."
Cheon Ma's expression twisted, rage exploding across his face.
"You useless abbot!" he roared. "You still dare interfere in my affairs?!"
Demonic energy erupted from his soul, surging like a black tide. The sea of consciousness trembled violently, cracks spreading across the spiritual void as waves of destructive intent slammed outward.
The entire space shook.
Yet—
Abbot Xuan Kong did not move.
He stood calmly amid the storm, golden light rippling gently around him, unmoved by the raging demonic tide.
"You seek to destroy this child's sea of consciousness," Xuan Kong said, his tone even, unhurried. "You wish to erase him… and take his body for yourself."
His gaze lifted, meeting Cheon Ma's burning eyes.
"I will not permit it."
Cheon Ma laughed.
A harsh, mocking sound.
"And how do you plan to stop me?" he sneered. "Fight me? If you do, this boy's sea of consciousness will collapse completely."
He spread his arms wide, violet energy writhing around him.
"You wouldn't dare. You righteous fools always hesitate when an innocent life is at stake."
The demonic energy surged again, more violently than before, shaking the very foundation of the spiritual sea.
Abbot Xuan Kong watched quietly.
Then—
He smiled.
A faint, peaceful smile.
"Who said," he asked softly, "that I intend to fight you?"
Cheon Ma's laughter faltered.
"…What?"
Abbot Xuan Kong slowly brought his palms together.
The moment his hands met, the chaotic sea of consciousness stilled.
Golden light bloomed from his body—not explosive, not violent, but vast and all-encompassing, like dawn spreading across a boundless sky. The divine radiance washed outward, pushing back the rampant demonic qi that had been tearing through Long Shen's spiritual sea.
Cheon Ma's laughter faltered.
His crimson eyes narrowed.
"What are you doing?" he growled, demonic energy surging instinctively around him.
Xuan Kong opened his eyes.
They were calm.
Too calm.
"Cheon Ma," the abbot said gently, his voice carrying through the spiritual void, "since you covet this child's body so desperately…"
The golden aura around him intensified.
"…then I will ensure you never leave it."
Cheon Ma's expression changed.
For the first time, unease surfaced.
Golden spiritual power erupted from Xuan Kong's body, flooding the sea of consciousness like a divine tide. The trembling space above them warped as the light gathered, condensing, shaping—
"Five-Finger Buddha Prison."
The void shook.
From above descended five colossal golden fingers, each one vast enough to blot out the sky. Scriptures shimmered across their surfaces, ancient and profound, radiating a pressure so immense it crushed the surrounding demonic energy into silence.
The fingers closed.
A prison formed.
Cheon Ma's eyes widened.
His jaw dropped.
The demonic qi around his body was forcibly compressed, pinned, suppressed. No matter how violently it surged, it could not break free.
"You bastard—!" Cheon Ma roared, slamming his power against the golden cage. "What are you trying to do?!"
Xuan Kong smiled faintly.
He raised a single hand.
The golden light shifted.
"Heavenly Chains of the Eighteen Arhats."
The space itself crack—
Golden chains erupted from the void, one after another, each inscribed with flowing Buddhist scriptures. They wrapped around Cheon Ma's soul, binding his limbs, his torso, his very essence.
The chains extended further.
They sank deep into the sea of consciousness itself.
Cheon Ma's body stiffened.
His pupils shrank.
"What—?!"
The demonic energy surrounding him collapsed, vanishing strand by strand as the chains anchored his soul directly to Long Shen's spiritual sea.
Xuan Kong's voice remained calm.
"If you destroy this boy's sea of consciousness," he said evenly, "or if this boy dies…"
His gaze sharpened slightly.
"…your soul will shatter along with it."
The words struck like thunder.
Cheon Ma screamed.
"You will die too, you old bastard!"
Xuan Kong chuckled softly.
"Do you not see?" he replied. "I am already dead."
Cheon Ma froze.
For the first time since his awakening, true panic surfaced in his eyes.
He ground his teeth, demonic qi boiling uselessly beneath the golden restraints.
Xuan Kong lowered his hand.
"So tell me," he said gently, "will you allow this boy to perish?"
Cheon Ma trembled.
Silence stretched.
Then—
A furious roar tore from his throat.
"I will remember this!" he bellowed, hatred burning in his eyes.
Demonic energy surged from his body once more—
But this time, it did not tear.
It flowed.
The violent qi poured into the shattered sea of consciousness, weaving through broken fragments, reinforcing cracks, stabilizing collapsing regions. Where destruction once reigned, demonic power now acted as a brutal, forceful patch.
Cheon Ma's face twisted in humiliation.
Xuan Kong nodded, a satisfied smile touching his lips.
"Good."
Golden light pulsed outward.
The divine and demonic energies intertwined—not in harmony, but in forced coexistence—stabilizing the fragile spiritual sea that surrounded Long Shen's slumbering soul.
The void slowly calmed.
The storm subsided.
And for the first time since his fall, Long Shen's sea of consciousness stopped collapsing.
Outside —
The violent tremors inside the cave began to fade.
The formation carved into the stone floor shuddered violently one last time before splintering apart. Runes cracked like shattered glass, their light extinguishing one by one. The oppressive demonic pressure that had filled every corner of the cave thinned, then dispersed entirely—like smoke torn apart by the wind.
Silence rushed in.
The violet haze surrounding Long Shen's body flickered uncertainly… then vanished.
The jagged cracks crawling across his skin sealed themselves slowly, inch by inch, as though time itself were reversing. His body, which had been suspended unnaturally in the air, lost its support and descended.
Gently.
He landed on the cold stone ground with a dull, muted sound.
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
The Thief King and the Divine Doctor stood frozen, their gazes locked on the motionless youth. Dust drifted lazily through the air between them. The lingering scent of scorched stone and medicinal herbs still hung thick in the cave.
Then the Thief King inhaled sharply.
"Is… is it over?"
The Divine Doctor did not answer immediately.
He was already moving.
In two swift steps, he knelt beside Long Shen and reached for his wrist. His fingers pressed lightly against the youth's pulse point, spiritual sense flowing outward in a careful, probing stream.
The Thief King hovered nearby, fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.
Seconds stretched.
Too long.
The Divine Doctor's brows were furrowed in deep concentration, his expression unreadable. Sweat trickled slowly down the side of his face as he examined every fluctuation, every faint ripple of spiritual movement within Long Shen's body.
The Thief King swallowed hard.
"Well?" he demanded hoarsely. "Say something."
The Divine Doctor's eyes snapped open.
For a moment, disbelief flickered across his face.
Then—
His pupils trembled.
"…His pulse," he murmured.
The Thief King's breath caught. "What about it?"
The Divine Doctor stared at his fingers, as though afraid the sensation might vanish if he blinked.
"It's stable," he said slowly.
A pause.
"Normal."
The words hit the cave like a sudden release of pressure.
The Thief King froze.
Then his eyes widened.
"You mean—"
The Divine Doctor let out a long breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The tension drained from his shoulders, replaced by a quiet, exhausted smile.
"His soul energy… it's no longer collapsing," he said. "It's weak—but it's recovering."
For a heartbeat, the Thief King simply stared.
Then he burst out laughing.
A loud, unrestrained laugh that echoed off the cave walls, raw with relief and disbelief.
"Hahaha—!" He slapped his thigh hard. "We actually did it!"
The sound filled the cave, breaking the lingering heaviness that had weighed on the air moments earlier.
The Divine Doctor allowed himself a faint chuckle before sobering.
"This was no small miracle," he said. "If we had been even a moment slower… he would have been lost."
The Thief King wiped his face roughly, still grinning.
"Then when will he wake up?" he asked, eyes bright with expectation.
The Divine Doctor looked down at Long Shen once more.
His expression turned thoughtful.
"I don't know," he admitted.
The Thief King's smile faltered slightly.
"He's alive," the Divine Doctor continued, "but his soul has suffered tremendous trauma. It needs time—time to mend, to stabilize."
He shook his head slowly.
"For now, he's in a deep coma."
The Thief King exhaled, then nodded.
"…As long as he's alive."
He straightened, gaze sharpening with renewed resolve.
"I'll gather materials to nourish his soul," he said. "Spirit grasses, soul stones—whatever it takes."
His lips curled into a crooked grin.
"I've stolen worse things for less noble reasons."
The Divine Doctor glanced at him, then nodded solemnly.
"While you do that, I'll focus on his body," he said. "Broken bones can be mended. Meridians can be rebuilt."
His eyes hardened with quiet determination.
"Leave his physical recovery to me."
The two old men exchanged a long look.
No more words were needed.
Between them, Long Shen lay motionless, breathing softly—his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.
Inside Long Shen's sea of consciousness, the violent chaos slowly began to settle.
The endless void that had once raged with clashing energies now trembled quietly, as if exhausted by its own destruction. Cracks in the spiritual space knit together inch by inch, threads of light weaving across the darkness like sutures closing an ancient wound.
At the center of the sea stood Cheon Ma.
His arms were folded across his chest. His expression was dark, sharp, and filled with open irritation. Violet demonic energy still clung to his form, rolling lazily around him like restless flames, but it no longer rampaged. The chains of golden scripture remained embedded in the void, faintly glowing—silent reminders of restraint.
"Tch."
Cheon Ma clicked his tongue.
"A troublesome monk, even in death."
Not far from him stood Abbot Xuan Kong.
His posture was relaxed, his expression serene, as if the chaos moments ago had never existed. Golden divine light flowed naturally from his body, gentle yet profound, filling the sea of consciousness with a warm, steady presence.
Xuan Kong raised one hand.
The moment his palm lifted, the sea responded.
Golden light spilled outward in slow waves, washing across the fractured spiritual space. Wherever the light passed, instability faded. The trembling void steadied. The pain embedded deep within the sea dulled, then vanished.
At the center of the sea, something began to form.
A lotus.
It rose silently from the nothingness, its stem woven from pure spiritual essence. Petals layered upon petals—translucent, golden, faintly glowing with ancient runes etched along their edges.
The lotus swayed gently.
Then, slowly—
It bloomed.
Within its heart lay a figure.
Long Shen.
His soul rested inside the lotus, curled faintly as if in deep slumber. Cracks marred his spiritual form, thin fractures spreading across his chest and limbs like glass on the verge of shattering. His soul trembled intermittently, each tremor sending faint ripples across the lotus petals.
Golden light poured into him.
The fractures softened.
Repaired.
Stabilized.
His trembling slowed.
Then stopped.
For a moment, there was only silence.
Then—
Long Shen's eyelids twitched.
Once.
Again.
Slowly, as if weighed down by unimaginable exhaustion, his eyes began to open.
A narrow slit at first.
Blink.
His vision wavered, flooded with light and shadow.
Blink.
His eyes opened wider.
The first thing he felt was pressure.
Not physical.
Existential.
A suffocating weight pressed down upon his soul, making his instincts scream. His breathing hitched as he instinctively tried to pull back—only to realize there was nowhere to retreat.
Then he saw them.
Two towering figures stood before him.
On the left—
Violet.
An overwhelming sea of demonic energy surged and coiled, violent yet contained. A man stood within it, tall and imposing, his crimson eyes burning with arrogance and ancient hatred. His presence alone distorted the space around him.
Cheon Ma.
Demon Emperor.
Even standing still, he felt like a calamity given form.
On the right—
Gold.
A vast, tranquil radiance spread outward like an endless sky. A monk stood calmly within it, his expression gentle, his gaze deep and immeasurable. Divine energy flowed around him in endless cycles, steady and pure.
Abbot Xuan Kong.
Enlightened.
Unshaken.
Balanced.
The two energies clashed without touching—violet and gold pressing against one another, filling the sea of consciousness with a tense, suffocating equilibrium.
Long Shen's pupils shrank.
His breath caught in his throat.
His mind screamed.
What… is this…?
He tried to speak.
No sound came out.
Cheon Ma's gaze fell upon him.
For a moment, the demon emperor said nothing—only studied him with a cold, evaluating stare, as if examining a possession he had been forced to share.
"Hmph," Cheon Ma finally snorted. "So this is the brat."
Long Shen's entire soul stiffened.
Xuan Kong turned his head slightly.
His eyes met Long Shen's.
Warmth spread through Long Shen's chest the moment their gazes connected—a gentle reassurance that calmed the storm threatening to swallow his thoughts.
"You are awake," Xuan Kong said softly.
His voice did not echo, yet it reached Long Shen clearly, resonating directly within his soul.
Long Shen swallowed.
His gaze flicked between the two towering figures—the demon radiating oppression, the monk radiating peace.
Fear crawled up his spine.
"…W-Who…?" His voice finally emerged, hoarse and unsteady. "Who are you?"
Cheon Ma's lips curled into a sharp grin.
Xuan Kong's smile remained calm.
The sea of consciousness pulsed gently around them.
Violet and gold continued to radiate.
And at the center of it all, Long Shen stood frozen—small, fragile, and utterly unprepared for the existence that now dwelled within him.
To Be Continued…