It seemed the energy had reached a threshold, and it no longer flowed effortlessly into the circles as it had in the previous attempts.
The octagonal prism bore only eight circles, each tightly woven along its edges.
owwl…
Blood cried out all of a sudden in agony as his ears and eyes stated to burn fiercely. He wanted to stop the cultivation and resume later, but he knew better.
It was a tangible conviction he could feel deep within. In his current state, if he were to stop now, he would regret it for the rest of his life.
Although the pain was nearly unbearable; he endured.
His expression grew solemn as he focused entirely on absorbing the energy.
It appeared that all the energy he had accumulated—which would constantly vanish into nothingness—had now been gathered and was being transferred.
Blood's body was engulfed in the abundance, and he greedily absorbed it, as though he had been starved for thousands of years.
A brilliant light suddenly flared to life, and a stabbing pain assaulted his heart.
Blood clutched his knees tightly and coughed out blood, yet he remained seated, fixing his gaze upon the dim silhouette before him.
After that sudden flash, the inner circle connected to the seventh edge of the prism was eventually pierced, and energy began to stream into it. The colorful currents swirling around each circle surged violently into the seventh circle.
At the same time…
The impulse of heaven and earth energy in the outside world did not diminish; instead, it grew more frenzied, churning wildly until its diameter reached a striking one meter.
The energy swiftly filled the circle and continued its course until the eighth and final circle brimmed with power.
The colorful energy brightened, releasing a mysterious glint as the pressure upon Blood lessened considerably.
With all the circles now filled and the energy trapped with nowhere to flow, it quieted, returning to a dormant state. Still, the energy within each circle burned brilliantly, illuminating the dark space.
In that instant, Blood rose to his feet and looked around the shadowed domain. There was nothing of note save for the glowing prism.
He could feel his strength had risen, standing at the very peak of the Iron Realm. He required just a little push, and he would break through the Bronze Realm barrier.
He sat cross‑legged once more to initiate the breakthrough, but nothing happened. It was as though some vital element was missing, the path seemed to be closed, forcing him to wait.
After trying multiple times and finding nothing left to do, Blood sank into silence, lost in thought.
"How do I even get out of this place?" Blood muttered.
He had not come here willingly; he was merely taking the benefits it offered.
Blood knew cultivators could perceive their spiritual space from the outside world but could not enter it. Yet here he was, clearly within his own spiritual space.
It was astounding.
The spiritual space was the envisioning domain of a cultivator, containing the knowledge sea where all actions were stored, and where cultivation progress could be sensed and monitored.
It was the lifeline of a cultivator, encasing the core—the very source of advancement.
No one under normal circumstances would allow another inside their spiritual space, for the core was in its most vulnerable state there and could be easily tampered with.
Moreover, the shape and position of the core could be discerned by the invader, placing one at a disadvantage in battle, since protecting the core was paramount.
Blood sighed, and a desire to return to the outside world welled within him, and almost instantly, he found himself seated cross‑legged, his sister circling around him.
Blood's eyes narrowed, startled by his sudden return. He patted his shoulder and stood, sweat dripping steadily down his body.
He glanced out the window and saw that the day had just begun to break.
It had been a long night.
Ignoring Ivory's skeptical gaze, he left for the bathroom.
When he returned, the atmosphere in the room remained tense. He dried himself and collapsed onto the bed, his silent snoring filling the room.
Ivory released a heavy sigh and joined him, drifting into sleep.
___
Just as Ivory slept, the door opened and Salza entered, his expression grave. The children's tricks would not work today.
He called their names several times but received no answer. After repeated attempts, he shook his head, closed the door, and went to the dining.
___
It was afternoon, the sun hung high, its subtle warmth streaming through the glass and striking the two lying on the bed.
Ivory stirred, stretching her arms wide which struck Blood's face, rudely waking him.
"Ouch!"
Blood stretched his legs across the bed, yawning as he caught the faint smile on his sister's sleepy face.
He visited the kitchen, filled his stomach, and stepped out through the manor's main door, heading straight for the gates.
His parents were likely not home at this hour…
Just as he closed the door, he encountered Ballock outside. He was sitting beneath the trough as though waiting. He was lost in thought and did not notice Blood's approach.
"Hey, why the grim look?" Blood asked, stepping closer.
"How are you holding up? I know it's been rough this past month, and I'm sorry I couldn't be there with you." He inhaled softly. He had not forgotten the strange sensation before he lost consciousness.
Ballock lifted his gaze, his eyes lighting at the sight of Blood. With renewed vigor, he rose, advancing toward him.
"These past few days have been hectic." Ballock replied, his expression tense.
"The remaining crystals were depleted right after you entered that damned state. With no crystals, the digging had to stop. I went into the forest to gather resources just to continue.
"But that wasn't the worst of it. What nearly made my life terrible was the persistent torment of that strange feeling—it now came as a voice." Ballock's words rang loud before he fell silent. His eyes suddenly flashed crimson, red energy condensing at his pupils.
For a moment, Blood felt a threatening aura, his hand instinctively reached for his weapon that wasn't there. It was as though another person had replaced Ballock entirely.
He relaxed only when the energy receded.
"The voice rang oppressively whenever I drew near that hole, and with each passing day it grew worse. You're the only thread I'm clinging to—otherwise, I'd be in that pit digging with bare hands." Ballock added, his voice faltering.
He was truly despondent.
Blood's expression darkened. He could sense Ballock's suffering, even as he tried to remain composed. He must have endured greatly.
Taking a closer look, Blood noticed details he had overlooked before.
Ballock's clothes concealed much, but a long scar cut across his chest. His face was rough; his nose shifted to the side.
Only when he inspected him carefully did Blood discover the injuries.
His clothes must have concealed even more.
Blood blamed it all on the Blood Book, which had abruptly pulled him into that space, leaving him unconscious and vulnerable. He was fortunate to have been within the manor when it happened.
The oppressive sensation was ever‑present. It eased only when they complied with the digging but grew pernicious whenever they abstained.
With Ballock's discovery, at least they could keep the feeling at bay by maintaining their distance.
Blood clenched his fist in anger.
I'm I being enslave in my own turf? Power instantly began to surge through his muscle at the thought.
Nevertheless, he realized his strength had grown, though it might still fall short against that ominous voice.
Yet even so, he had never been this strong before.