That sliver of sword intent is peculiar, a bit difficult. Still, with seventeen days, I could have driven it out a few days sooner. But who do you think I was saving it for? Keeping it here was so I could show it to you, wasn't it?”

Zhao Yanran snorted, extending a hand without reserve. “Hand it over! Twenty Fetal Refinement Pills, twenty Snow Soul Pills, five Fire Essence Pills, and a Snow Soul Nameless Sword! Having kept this sliver of sword intent for so many days, I’ve certainly done you justice.”

The woman in red showed no annoyance, merely wiping her hand over the black wound. Instantly, a strange ripple appeared in the surrounding air.

A few gnats happened to pass nearby. Struck by the ripple, they immediately plummeted to the ground, their life extinguished.

Furthermore, within a one-zhang radius, all the weeds withered instantly.

“Madwoman, you should be grateful you didn't act rashly, and that I happened to arrive just in time! Rushing to expel it would have brought you nothing but misery!”

As she spoke, the woman in red gazed with admiration at the withered vegetation on the ground. “What potent sword intent! Truly unprecedented, unheard of. It promises absolute slaughter, infused with a thick miasma of death. Thankfully, this person’s cultivation isn't high enough, and the sword intent hasn’t fully formed, unable to unleash its totality. Otherwise, you’d already be dead!”

Zhao Yanran’s expression faltered, touching her neck with lingering apprehension. She knew the consequences of rashly driving it out; while it might not have killed her, it would certainly have inflicted fresh injury.

Her imposing aura immediately constricted, leaving her feeling slightly weak. However, in the next moment, she grew even more self-righteous. “So what? Being able to make the sword intent lie dormant instead of attacking—are you not overjoyed, old hag? You were definitely secretly laughing just now, weren't you? Don't think you can hide it from me, I saw! In this world, who is more suited than him to learn the Grand Heaven Origin Spirit Sword of your Taiyuan Sect?”

The woman in red felt a headache coming on, pressing a hand to her forehead. “My elder sister was clever her whole life, how could she have taken a disciple like you? No matter how disrespectful you are, while our family won't eat you, we will certainly toss you into the Gānan Cave. I’m sure those high monks would be delighted to chant sutras for a hundred days to convert you, you little demoness!”

Zhao Yanran’s pupils instantly contracted, a flicker of fear and timidity appearing on her face. She feared nothing under heaven or earth, except listening to monks recite their scriptures.

But the woman in red only managed half her sentence before she could no longer suppress a smile emerging on her face. “Forget it! You managed to find such a rare talent for my Taiyuan Sect; that counts as a great contribution. A few pills and a broken sword—do you think I’d begrudge you those? Wait until this matter is concluded before we discuss it.”

Zhao Yanran’s gaze flickered, showing intense suspicion. “Martial Aunt, do you even know how to write the character ‘Trust’? It’s not that I doubt you, Martial Niece, it’s just that you’ve never kept your word. Suspicion—”

She was ultimately constrained by some apprehension and dared not utter the words ‘old hag’ again. The woman in red’s cheeks flushed crimson, clearly showing shame mixed with anger. She coughed awkwardly, then her eyes abruptly turned cold and stern.

“Less nonsense. Where is that person, precisely? What is his name? What is his background? If you can't find your junior martial brother, it won't just be the Gānan Cave, but the Mingmiao Temple on Two Realms Mountain!”

“Junior martial brother? You truly are presumptuous!”

Zhao Yanran’s complexion paled again, yet she defiantly arched her eyebrows. “He might not even spare a glance for the Lingyun Sect, nor might he be willing to join your Taiyuan Sect. Given his aptitude, which major sect or power in the world could he not enter?”

“Lingyun Sect?” The woman in red scoffed, letting out a proud, cold snort. “It’s merely a fringe Sacred Land Sect. My Taiyuan Sect controls the Third and Seventh Sacred Lands! We won't let him refuse! Anyone who dares compete with me, our family will annihilate them!”

※※※※

In the Black Mud Swamp, a fine drizzle persisted, but thousands of miles away, the sun shone brightly.

Over these past ten-plus days, Zong Shou’s practice location had shifted from inside the carriage to the rooftop, claiming Xue’er’s territory.

Although the marrow and bone of a person are inherently warm, serving as the source of human Yang energy, they accumulate a considerable amount of Yin-cold energy deep within the body over time.

Therefore, refining marrow and bone is best done in a place of extreme sunlight. With the aid of the sun’s rays, dispelling the cold power and tempering the marrow and bone achieves twice the result with half the effort.

As for the marrow refining technique, Zong Shou chose the Demon Race’s secret transmission: the Great Sun Bright Strength Fist.

In his memory, this was a top-tier marrow-tempering method passed down from the legendary Demon Race. In ancient texts, it was hailed by countless Martial Arts Grandmasters as peerless among similar techniques, overshadowing all others.

However, few humans in later generations practiced it. This was because the physical constitutions of the Human and Demon Races differed, resulting in vastly different effects.

Now that Zong Shou had awakened his demonic form, utilizing this fist technique was naturally mutually beneficial. Thus, he decisively discarded the other supreme marrow refining methods in his memory and directly chose this Demon Race ultimate art.

Unlike the Embryonic Breath Spirit Fist, this Great Sun Bright Strength Fist began with powerful and fierce momentum. On the rooftop, it agitated against the wind currents rushing by, eliciting bursts of resonance.

Zong Shou’s footwork, however, was of an entirely different style—one of extreme nimbleness.

The Cloud-Flipping Carriage had long since exited the Black Mud Swamp and entered a region of rolling hills. The carriage body occasionally swayed and pitched with the terrain.

Yet Zong Shou’s figure remained completely unaffected. His feet seemed to possess suction cups, anchoring him firmly atop the carriage roof, his movements fluid and unrestrained.

Su Chuxue watched quietly beside him, never taking her eyes off him. Even Yin Yang, driving the carriage ahead, was distracted, spending most of his time looking back, meticulously observing Zong Shou’s martial arts.

Although both had long surpassed this stage, they knew this was a rare opportunity.

Not only was the fist technique itself a rare ultimate art, but the martial philosophy Zong Shou displayed while practicing his punches was deeply enlightening.

The force of his punches grew softer as he practiced, eventually diverging entirely from the fierce spirit of the Great Sun Bright Strength Fist, taking on a soft, yielding appearance somewhat reminiscent of the Embryonic Breath Spirit Fist in its initial stages.

Yet, every punch he threw produced only a dull 'whoomph' sound. The imposing might was hidden, but the surrounding wind generated by the carriage's rapid movement was repelled several zhang away.

Su Chuxue couldn't fully comprehend it, but she knew that whatever her young master learned would not be wrong. She still remembered the day Zong Shou forced Zhao Yanran to admit defeat with only seventy-six sword strikes, and his magnificent display on the Bright Sword Platform where he broke eighteen sword puppets.

Yin Yang’s eyes grew brighter and brighter. One hand involuntarily mimicked the movements of Zong Shou’s fists. His internal aura surged and receded intermittently, spiritual energy churning, yet it was suppressed by an invisible barrier, persistently unable to break through.

After about half an hour, Zong Shou finally collapsed, utterly spent. This Great Sun Bright Strength Fist consumed immense stamina; being able to sustain it for two quarters of an hour was solely due to his recent surge in soul power, suppressing his twin meridians, and the significant improvement in his physical constitution.

“The stabilization of the Embryonic Breath truly yields endless benefits. In just seventeen days, my marrow refinement is only one step from completion! Poor me, in my previous life, completing this step took me a full year!”

Three consecutive Seven Spirits Fetal Refinement Pills had driven Zong Shou’s Embryonic Breath to its utmost peak. And this marrow refinement followed as a matter of course. Within his hundreds of bones, it was as if a warm flame had ignited, supplying vast amounts of vital energy.

He needed only three more days to completely melt away the accumulated Yin-cold within his bone marrow.