Chapter Eleven: The Mysterious Black Spiritual Power

On one hand, he thought this might just be a twist of fate; on the other, he sensed there could be deeper reasons behind it. Yet, at this moment, he had no way to investigate further and could only tuck this doubt away in his heart.

Li Ziyuan spoke calmly, “I want to add a character to my name.”

Li’s mother, father, and sister Li Yuer asked in unison, “Which character?”

“Add ‘Zi’ in the middle.”

Li Yuer touched her chin and said faintly, “Li Ziyuan.”

Li’s parents agreed the name sounded good. Although something about Ziyuan seemed off, it also felt right. Indeed, he had become more steady and composed.

Jiang Yun listened to Li Ziyuan’s words, then looked into his eyes, which carried a chilling coldness. A shiver ran up his spine involuntarily.

Li’s father nearby also keenly sensed the tension between the two. From Li Ziyuan’s gaze, he seemed to glimpse the resolute determination of those fearless warriors who faced death without hesitation. It was a ruthless tenacity to achieve one’s goals, even at the cost of one’s life.

After all, Li’s father had encountered such foes before. If he hadn’t been extremely cautious back then, he might by now be nothing more than a skeleton underground, unable to live peacefully farming in Qingyan Village.

“Li Yuan—oh no, Li Ziyuan—you’re much more humorous than before, always joking around. Seeing you’re well, I’m relieved. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading back. Oh, by the way, let’s go catch some live creatures at the eastern village entrance later?” Jiang Yun said, stuffing something into Li Ziyuan’s hand, trying to mask his inner unease.

Li Ziyuan took the item firmly, then leaned close to Jiang Yun and whispered something in his ear. Instantly, Jiang Yun’s face lit up with ecstatic joy, as if he had received a rare treasure bestowed by the heavens.

Watching Jiang Yun’s retreating figure, Li Ziyuan’s lips curved into a meaningful smile. Then he turned and strode toward the fields.

Once in the fields, without a word, Li Ziyuan grabbed a hoe and began working hard. He dug again and again, each repetitive motion seeming to release a torrent of pent-up strength.

He dug harder and harder, as if challenging the very earth beneath his feet, or perhaps venting all the fury burning inside him.

As his thoughts drifted, the unbearable memories of his past life played like a film in his mind.

Each scene was like a sharp blade, piercing his heart fiercely, causing his anger and pain to surge, nearly consuming his reason.

At that moment, a strange black aura began to faintly emanate from his body. This aura seemed to contain a cataclysmic power that sent chills down the spine.

Li’s father noticed this abnormality and was shocked. He had never seen such a bizarre black spiritual energy in all his years.

Li Ziyuan’s eyes had turned blood red, wild with madness as if he had lost all reason, suddenly lunging fiercely at Li’s father. His attack was merciless, completely unlike his usual self.

Fortunately, Li’s father was no ordinary man. Sensing danger, he quickly defended himself. To prevent this sudden upheaval from alarming others and causing unnecessary panic, he decisively struck Li Ziyuan’s neck with a precise hand chop.

Li Ziyuan’s body went limp instantly, unconscious. The eerie black aura within him dissipated like a receding tide.

Cradling his unconscious son, Li’s father was filled with both awe and fear. Awe that his son, who had never trained before, had just erupted with spiritual power at the fifth ring of the Spirit Awakening realm, and the flow of his energy was smooth and seamless.

Such talent and strength far exceeded his expectations. Fear, however, gnawed at his heart — if his son got entangled in the brutal world of cultivation outside, a place rife with deceit and slaughter, where people would stop at nothing to become tyrants, how much suffering would he endure?

He did not know whether it was a blessing or a curse to have him drawn into it.

The Spirit Awakening realm marks the beginning of the cultivation journey. Cultivators must sense and channel the spiritual energy of heaven and earth into their bodies, initially tempering their meridians to accommodate more energy. At this stage, cultivators can perform simple spells, such as telekinesis to control small objects remotely, or heightened perception to detect subtle changes in the environment, useful for daily life and basic self-defense.

The spiritual energy Li Ziyuan had just unleashed was far stronger than ordinary energy, and that black energy was extraordinarily peculiar, unlike the familiar spiritual energy of heaven and earth.

“What is going on? The spiritual energy emanating from this boy doesn’t seem to be the energy of heaven and earth,” Li’s father muttered, brows furrowed in deep confusion.

By his understanding, spiritual power always derived from transformed spiritual energy of the world. Without proper cultivation methods, attempting to absorb such energy by oneself was nearly impossible.

Moreover, he had previously examined Li Ziyuan’s spiritual roots, which were supposedly lost. Yet now it seemed as if his spiritual roots had awakened. This deepened Li’s father’s bewilderment — he had no idea what changes had occurred.

Besides, Li’s father had never told Li Ziyuan about the outside world beyond the village—a harsh cultivation realm filled with cruelty.

In that world, deception and bloodshed were everywhere. To establish a foothold and become a ruler, people would use any means necessary.

Carefully, Li’s father laid his unconscious son on a flat spot beside the field. Then, with a composed expression, he picked up his hoe and resumed his work with ease.

Though seemingly focused on farming, his mind was troubled, endlessly pondering the inexplicable state Li Ziyuan had displayed moments ago. That strange black spiritual energy unsettled him greatly.

To Li’s father, this energy was like a double-edged sword. If skillfully controlled and used, it could be a priceless treasure, potentially aiding his son on the unknown path of cultivation. But if misused, the consequences could be disastrous, possibly destroying Li Ziyuan himself.

Wielding the hoe with intermittent strokes, Li’s father furrowed his brows, lost deep in thought.