A small pill room echoed with the clash of meditation cushions and vials. Zong Shou emerged in a disheveled state, forcibly expelled by Xuan Yuan Yiren who had turned furious from shame and anger. Yet as he stepped out the door, she tossed him a leather pouch nearly half his height. He caught it hastily and gave it a quick weigh—metallic clinks resounded within.

"Are these weapons? It seems to be a sword... yet more than just that."

He tucked it away without ceremony while sighing in resignation. What a pity, the opportunity to observe Danquan Sect's premier alchemist at work was ruined by his own clumsiness. Worse still was how he abandoned such a golden chance merely because she revealed slight reluctance through her eyes—what an idiotic "good person" he turned out to be.

Glancing at the still-drawn blade below, another sigh escaped him. His self-created world-shaking technique required no particular demands of Yuan Yang energy. But for martial artists, premature indulgence was never wise. Only after eighteen years or reaching Vise Marshal rank did it become acceptable.

Earlier regret had been mixed with silent relief—this demon was far too tempting.

Returning to his guest quarters alone, the third day in Xuan Mountain City was already midday. Weak Water practiced punches in the courtyard. One couldn't help but admire her talent; having studied from Zong Shou for merely weeks, the Da Ri Minglie Fist was being executed with remarkable precision, capturing its essence. Under the scorching sun, she fought with vigorous intensity.

Yet oddly enough, what should be a bold and expansive style with sharp strikes now carried unexpected graceful elegance in her hands. It seemed like an ethereal maiden descending from heaven, dancing with ethereal beauty that left onlookers stunned yet secretly awed at this girl's innate charm.

Zong Shou's gaze momentarily blurred. Unconsciously he recalled that morning when suctioning poison from Weak Water—the thrilling kiss where tongues entwined, the snow-white breasts begging to be cherished in his mouth.

Previously tormented by Xuan Yuan Yiren's provocations with unrelieved heat still smoldering, this sight made him feel parched and feverish. He hastily closed his eyes, reciting a calming mantra learned from future generations: "Pure as ice, unmoved when heaven collapses, steady amidst thousand changes... When beauty appears before me, I remain unfazed. Red powder skulls need not concern me. No matter your floral beauty, ultimately you're just dust. Lust is like a bone knife, one must tread carefully. For in truth, form is emptiness..."

Muttering nonsense while imagining skeletal images, yet Xuan Yuan's alluring figure and Weak Water's enchanting grace kept flashing before his eyes. How could he truly calm himself?

"Damn it, my mental cultivation still falls far short!"

Shaking his head, Zong Shou rushed into his room. No sooner had he entered than he froze once more.

Xu Xue was sitting on his bed, clutching a bag of monkey wine, with hazy eyes and disheveled state. Her ears twitched slightly as she wore only thin silk layers.

Spotted by him, she turned her head with a soft "Meow?" expression full of confusion before transforming into delighted surprise moments later. She suddenly leapt onto his neck like a tiger cub, her scorching body pressing against him while extending that little pink tongue to lick his face.

Zong Shou completely solidified in place as Xu Xue whimpered, rubbing her cheek against his and mewling: "Young Master, Snow also wants detoxification. Ugh, won't you let me? I'm poisoned too, my whole body is weak..."

She then offered that plump pink tongue to kiss his lips, exhaling sweet breaths that further inflamed his primal instincts.

Zong Shou felt like exploding entirely. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed her neck and the back of her head with precise force to render this little demon temporarily unconscious before tucking her under covers near the bed. Standing by the window, he gazed outside with melancholic self-pity, his heart heavy with "the wind howls as Yi River chills" sentiment.

How difficult would it be for him to preserve his chastity? How weighty a responsibility this was! After being seduced by these three girls, Zong Shou spent two entire hours before finally achieving inner calm. The first task: opening that leather pouch.

Inside gleamed an array of silver-white throwing blades with metallic luster but no visible spirit runes. Yet the orderly spirit formations within were unmistakable. Each hilt embedded a fractured fifth-grade spirit stone about five cun long, slightly shorter than human palms.

"Are these spiritual grade throwing knives?"

Overjoyed, Zong Shou took one in his palm. These forty-eight blades proved to be second-grade spiritual weapons—the earlier metallic clash likely originating from them. Containing water-fire-thunder tri-element techniques with "Cloud Flame" engraved on handles, their material was razor-sharp. Even his fingertips barely grazing the blade edges left white marks.

Don't mistake his soft appearance for weakness—the past months training under underwater whirlpools and thunder phoenix eggs had hardened his skin to steel-like toughness surpassing iron armor. Without exerting force, these blades could still cut him—truly unparalleled sharpness.

"Haha! My little Yiren is truly thoughtful. She's just the best love of my life."

The blades must have been newly reforged—the faint traces suggested recent sharpening. Holding them felt surprisingly comfortable as if custom-fitted to his hand.

With a brief thought, Zong Shou instantly understood these were most likely crafted for him after their last separation by Yiren herself. The internal spirit formations seemed designed specifically for his water-fire spiral true energy, with the hilt's spirit stone fragment capable of storing true qi. Even if others could wield them, effectiveness would diminish greatly.

Only someone who knew his condition could create such blades in advance. Without hesitation, he selected six and concealed them within his sleeves. Though not matching his previous style exactly, holding these immediately established a soul connection.

With dozens of second-grade spiritual weapons at his disposal just needing months of cultivation, even peak Vise Marshal experts would fear him.

Examining the pouch further revealed a sword sheathed in sharkskin. When Zong Shou unsheathed it with a metallic "ching," deep purple gleamed and winged fire serpent patterns coiled along its length.

"Fourth-grade soul weapon!"

Checking through his soul energy, he confirmed an at least fourth-grade lightning-wing yang snake spirit sealed within the blade body. Soul weapons were one type of spiritual armament—containing refined beast spirits to form spirit formations with their innate techniques and essence. Their power often surpassed same-tier weapons, some even capable of transcending tiers.

Yet while obtaining beast souls was easy, harmonizing them perfectly with blades required master craftsmanship. For these beasts, the weapon became new physical forms—the higher quality, the better they could manifest original might.

Zong Shou's "Lightning Wing Sword" proved an exceptional example. Though not fully aligned with his cultivation style, it remained a rare treasure clearly chosen meticulously by Yiren for him.

Additionally at the pouch bottom lay several bottles of pills—labeled as Blood Yang Dan, Nine Refinement Quyu Dan (two bottles), and Hailiing Dan (another two). Each contained about 200 pills with evident high-grade spiritual energy matching his prenatal stage perfectly. All were exclusive Danquan Sect secrets impossible to buy even with money.

"A fourth-grade soul weapon, five hundred third-grade pills, forty-eight second-grade spiritual throwing knives... My fiancée is truly generous. Marrying such a wife could save me ten years of struggle!"

Zong Shou laughed bitterly at this treasure trove—how could one not love her? He simultaneously scorned Master Yan and Taoyuan Immortal Lady for their stinginess—their gifts paled before Xuan Yuan Yiren's tenth part. From now on, he'd simply accept his wife's support.

Thinking of those two, Zong Shou hadn't felt their presence in a long time—wondering what had happened to them. Yet he didn't dwell too deeply; he had already decided to transfer to Taoling Sect if these matters weren't resolved soon. To develop his own "Yuan Yi" sword style required accumulated sword techniques. Though not primarily a sword sect, this ancient 28,000-year legacy held countless sword scriptures making it an ideal choice.

Yet given previous exposures, this plan seemed unlikely now. Although those two had left recently, Zong Shou knew any action would surely be blocked by them.

A thought stirred, and from his yuan soul a sword-shaped spirit energy emerged through his brow piercing outside—his embryonic "Yuan Yi" spirit sword. With a single intent, it immediately sank into the Lightning Wing Sword's blade body. The weapon instantly resonated with his heart as Zong Shou pointed remotely and made it spin around him slightly awkwardly yet still obedient.

This was precisely the benefit of void-soul sword forging—using yuan soul energy combined with geng metal qi to forge blades could skip the spirit cultivation process entirely, allowing effortless switching between spirit weapons.