The legendary line of the Seven-Tailed Celestial Fox, truth be told, wasn't particularly gifted in raw power. Only in agility could they be considered passable.

However, their inherent talent was among the most supreme of all demon races. The reason lay in their innate 'Illusion' affinity; anyone possessing Celestial Fox blood, if a Spirit Master, was naturally adept at illusionary arts. And if they were Martial Cultivators, their aptitude in this area was also exceedingly outstanding.

Recalling the Indefinite Spirit Emperor Art stored in his memory, along with its accompanying set of techniques, the Indefinite Killing Fist.

Drawing upon his martial experience from his previous life, Zong Shou only needed a cursory glance at those diagrams and incantations to grasp the preliminary essence of this Indefinite Killing Fist.

With a punch thrown, shadowy phantoms of the strike immediately manifested before him, ethereal and elusive, making it impossible to gauge reality from illusion.

"A fine set of techniques!"

Zong Shou's eyes brightened. According to this body's memories, both the Indefinite Spirit Emperor Art and the Indefinite Killing Fist were martial disciplines self-created by Zong Weiran.

And now, though Zong Shou only understood the general scope, he could discern that this cultivation method must surely reach the level of a Sixth-Tier ultimate skill, possessing boundless potential for further ascension. Combined with the Celestial Fox clan's innate talent, its might would be formidable and unfathomable.

From this, it was clear that Zong Weiran's martial path had already reached an extremely profound level.

It was regrettable that he himself was not skilled in the way of the fist, nor had he deeply studied the path of Illusionary Martial Arts.

Yet, given his martial achievements in his past life, mastering the Indefinite Killing Fist and then innovating an illusionary sword technique based upon it would be a remarkably simple matter.

Having tested his physical conditioning, Zong Shou turned his attention to experimenting with Spirit Arts.

At the Soul Perception realm, one could utilize some lower-tiered spells of limited power. Though he had never cultivated Soul Energy in his previous life, his mastery of Talisman Arts was at the Grandmaster level.

Now, with casual ease, a mere gesture summoned a plume of illusory mist that permeated the entire carriage.

"With the aid of this technique, perhaps no one below the Ninth-Vein Secret Martial Master could withstand my Indefinite Killing Fist! But to those Innate Martial Masters, it would only count as child's play!"

After waiting a quarter of an hour for the mist to dissipate, Zong Shou shifted his hand seals, and two illusions of himself materialized beside him. They were strikingly lifelike, yet their facial expressions remained somewhat vacant.

Zong Shou glanced left and right, then frowned slightly. It wasn't that the Body Duplication Art was poorly executed; despite the slight artificiality in movement and expression, how many people, in the heat of battle, could accurately discern the difference in the blink of an eye?

Rather, the effect was better than he had anticipated.

"This isn't right. The power of these Illusionary Dao Arts I'm using seems significantly stronger than those of other Spirit Masters? At least double, if not more! Why is that? I recall having no spirit artifacts on me. Could this Seven-Tailed Celestial Fox bloodline truly be this potent?"

After a moment of deep thought, Zong Shou decisively settled into a cross-legged position, calming his mind, and entered meditation.

Though the demon race bloodline certainly harbored anomalies, even a divine lineage like the Seven-Tailed Celestial Fox shouldn't grant such an overwhelming disparity.

His current situation must stem from another cause.

His consciousness entered his Sea of Soul Energy to observe closely. After about a moment, Zong Shou understood the reason.

Deep within the vortex, the Soul Energy surging forth had conspicuously increased by a full fifty percent.

"Strange. My Divine Soul Source seems to have expanded by nearly fifty percent. Is this due to the fusion with that little fellow's spirit?"

An increase in the Divine Soul Source was almost negligible for him, given he possessed the Heaven Devouring Grand Evolution Art. However, the resultant increase in Spirit Art power was enough to drive other Spirit Masters into a jealous frenzy.

He then sensed two additional sources of spiritual energy within his Soul Sea. Zong Shou extended two threads of intention, following the connection.

The origin of this spiritual energy turned out to be the two fox tails swaying behind him.

They were not merely absorbing spiritual energy; they also granted him near-absolute control over the spiritual energy between heaven and earth.

Zong Shou suddenly realized; these fox tails possessed this capability after all, they weren't entirely without purpose.

Harmonizing and absorbing the ambient spiritual energy not only benefited his Soul Power cultivation but also enhanced his Spirit Arts and quickened the speed of summoning seals and weaving incantations.

What might take others ten breaths to execute, might take him only nine, or close to eight. Even this minuscule time saving could grant him an overwhelming advantage over ordinary Spirit Masters.

"This body of mine failed at martial cultivation. Unexpectedly, in the path of Spirit Master Soul Power, I have unwittingly possessed such extraordinary aptitude—"

Zong Shou couldn't help but muse self-mockingly. Originally, he cultivated Spirit Arts merely to suppress and ease the conflict between his human and demonic bloodlines. But now, if he didn't strive forward, he would truly squander this supreme natural gift.

Opening his eyes, Zong Shou produced a flask of wine and two cups. After filling them, he downed one and poured the other onto the ground before him.

"A toast to you, rest well!"

A flicker of sorrow touched his gaze as Zong Shou silently refilled the cup.

Aside from him, perhaps no one else would ever know that just yesterday, a boy burdened by cruel fate had silently vanished from this world, ceasing to exist.

※※※※

It was unclear when it began, but a light, drizzling rain started falling over the Black Mud Swamp once more.

In an area littered with the skeletal remains of wolves, a woman in red stood in the rain, gracefully holding an umbrella.

Her embroidered red shoes hovered half a foot above the ground, seemingly treading on air. Her crescent-moon-shaped dark eyebrows were faintly knitted together, and her eyes, like serene autumn waters, were meticulously examining every trace in the vicinity.

More than ten days had passed; the slain spirit wolves were now nothing more than piles of white bone.

A heavy downpour had scoured the area two days prior. Yet, in the woman's sight, certain subtle clues still commanded her attention.

"Lingyun Longruo's Azure Flood Dragon has advanced again. In another twenty years, it might join the true Dragon ranks? This little fellow has good fortune to possess a dragon-form guardian. It leaves all other direct descendants of his generation in the dust—"

However, the woman's gaze lingered on an inconspicuous patch of flat ground farther away.

"It is truly Sword Intent! After seventeen full days, a trace of it still lingers, faint and indistinct. Whose residual trace is this? Could the person truly be the rumored Thirteen, merely at the Martial Master realm?"

A figure suddenly materialized in the curtain of rain in the distance. Viewed from afar, it was Zhao Yanran.

She still arrived by turning water into ice and gliding over the surface. The woman in red felt it was too slow; with a flash, she was already thirty feet in front of Zhao Yanran.

Just as she prepared to speak, she noticed a black mark around Zhao Yanran's neck.

The woman was instantly startled, and in the next moment, she flashed again, appearing right before Zhao Yanran. A slender hand shot out, grasping her snowy neck, lifting her bodily off the ground.

Zhao Yanran showed no surprise, merely looking annoyed. "Old hag, are you trying to strangle me? Let go!"

Before the words fully left her mouth, she received a sharp rap on the head. The woman in red said coldly, "Have some respect! Call me Martial Aunt!"

She made no move to release her grip, her gaze fixed intensely on the black line marking Zhao Yanran’s neck.

This spot was clearly a wound, yet for some inexplicable reason, not only had it failed to heal, but it had completely festered, becoming nauseatingly putrid. It stood in stark contrast to the skin beside it, which was several shades whiter than snow.

The woman in red stared for a full half hour before finally letting out a long breath and setting Zhao Yanran down.

"This Sword Intent has barely taken shape; why didn't you dispel it? With your abilities, that should not have been difficult!"