More than ten days passed in the blink of an eye.

Wu Dao’an walked with a slight stoop, hands clasped behind his back, pacing through the Jia section — looking for all the world like an ordinary old man nearing the end of his days.

Divine spirit after divine spirit stepped quietly aside as he approached.

No one spoke to him. They simply watched in silence as he passed.

Without the golden booklet at his side, there was no longer any reason for him to preside over War Temple refinement sessions — he no longer counted as a rotating Custodian.

But that wasn’t why the other Martial Immortals had grown distant.

Overstepping his authority.

Taking advantage of the Ancestor’s sleep to make a decision of this magnitude without consulting a single one of his fellow disciples in the Jia section, as though none of them existed.

“I don’t want Junior Brother Shen to become a second Senior Brother Zhu.”

“And yet Old Ghost Wu is walking him step by step toward exactly that fire pit.”

A few of the Martial Immortals stared indifferently in the direction the old man had gone.

From the very day Shen Yi entered the War Temple, he’d been given the Golden Wolf jade token. A little over a month later, he had the rotating Custodian’s golden booklet in hand.

Not one obstacle, not one moment of difficulty, throughout any of it.

Every last bit of that — Wu Dao’an’s doing.

The old man had made a decision for the entire War Temple. So who exactly had given him that authority?

“The accumulated faith that booklet represents is down by thirty percent over the past several days,” someone said quietly.

The thing they’d worried about most had come to pass. Junior Brother Shen’s constitution was genuinely extraordinary — and the appetite that came with it matched.

Whether there was any immediate use for it or not, it was all going in first, to be dealt with later.

“Should we make a move while he hasn’t noticed yet — grab a portion for ourselves and hold it in reserve?”

“He grabs, you grab, everyone grabs together — and when the time comes that we actually need it, we might as well all just surrender on the spot!”

That Martial Immortal waved his sleeve in fury, berating his fellow disciple.

After a moment’s pause, he took a steadying breath. “What is Junior Brother Shen doing right now?”

Someone considered. “Taking his ease?”

Inside the War Temple armory’s small loft.

Senior Brother Zhu cleared his throat and recited the Mind-Clearing Incantation once through.

Shen Yi leaned against the wall in the corner, eyes closed, listening, giving an occasional small nod, and stretched with languid contentment.

After roughly three more recitations.

Senior Brother Zhu finally stopped, looked over with an expression full of barely-contained hope. “Junior Brother — could you let me have another look at that?”

“…”

Shen Yi opened his eyes and arched an eyebrow.

“I understand.” Senior Brother Zhu turned and activated the formation sealing the small loft, cutting off all sight and sense from outside, then settled himself with his skeleton in the corner with great solemnity.

At that, Shen Yi closed his eyes again.

Within his qi sea, the divine spirit sat cross-legged, and cradled in its arms now was a single golden pearl.

A small figure was curled inside it.

He reached into it with his mind.

In the next instant, the golden pearl appeared in Shen Yi’s palm, and then rose into the air.

A brilliant golden light spread outward like threads of silk, weaving themselves in place into a dazzling golden form, seven feet tall.

The moment it appeared, every jade slip in the loft seemed to lose its luster.

The figure was powerfully built in every proportion, its face carrying a natural authority even at rest.

From its back, bright crimson patterns spread outward — like the savage, vicious face of a fierce spirit spreading its wings.

“Oh—!”

Senior Brother Zhu’s jaw dropped, his gaze fixed unblinking on the golden form. He was a divine spirit, and yet somehow he felt he could hear his own heart pounding.

The golden dharma form slowly opened its eyes.

That single sweeping glance made Senior Brother Zhu feel as though his divine spirit might be shaken to pieces.

The one thing Zhu Jue found genuinely strange was that whenever Junior Brother Shen called up the golden dharma form, he himself went utterly cold and indifferent, and refused to say a single word.

Sure enough — the Arhat Golden Body fell silent, withdrew its gaze, and returned to the form of a pearl drifting back into Shen Yi’s palm.

“…”

Zhu Jue put the formation away with obvious reluctance, but didn’t press further. After all, a golden dharma form that hadn’t yet fully taken shape was the moment a Spirit-Transformation cultivator was most vulnerable — one step forward was a boundless sky, but being cut down prematurely would be the worst kind of misfortune. The fewer people who knew, the better.

That Junior Brother Shen was willing to show it to him at all was already an extraordinary grace.

Even thinking it through that way, Zhu Jue felt a prickling in the back of his nose.

“Junior Brother — what is this emotion?”

“Red-eyed envy. The urge to swallow you whole.” Shen Yi rose unhurriedly and tucked the golden pearl back into his qi sea.

“That’s not it.”

Senior Brother Zhu shook his head, a rare thing. “What I feel is something closer to despair. Why can’t I have a golden dharma form like that? Looking at your back, I feel like I’m watching something I can never hope to reach.”

“Inadequate talent. That’s just how it is.” Shen Yi nodded.

“…”

Zhu Jue froze for a moment, then clenched his jaw. “I do actually feel like swallowing you whole now.”

“Honestly, the thing isn’t all that impressive.”

Shen Yi shot him a sideways glance. “Use it a few more times and the novelty wears off.”

“I beg your pardon?”

At that, Zhu Jue turned himself bodily to face the corner wall. “Junior Brother, please see yourself out. I’d like a moment alone.”

Seeing that his careful effort had produced the desired effect.

Shen Yi gave a small wave and strolled out of the armory at a leisurely pace.

Only once the gold-and-jade staircase had closed behind him did he let out a quiet sigh.

【Remaining Demon Lifespan: 24,100 years】

He’d expected forging a golden body to be difficult — but not this difficult.

Over twenty thousand years spent in total.

According to the panel’s prompts, this seven-foot form was a half-finished product at best — it couldn’t even be called Minor Mastery. It was probably among the weakest things to exist in the Spirit-Transformation realm.

The reason progress had halted, too, wasn’t that accumulated faith had run out — it was that Lady Qinghua was on the verge of losing her mind.

The woman, whenever she came out now, had red-rimmed eyes, her lip bitten tight, a lost and distant look in them — the picture of a woman consumed by some deep-seated grievance.

By comparison, Shen Yi himself had been affected considerably less, since he’d only ever been serving as the relay point.

His spirit was exhausted, certainly, but he hadn’t tipped over into madness.

Shortcuts always had a cost… the trick was making sure someone else bore it.

With a Spirit-Transformation golden body to shelter him.

Shen Yi’s mood was considerably lighter. He straightened his green robe and headed as usual toward the War Temple to unwind.

Outside the imperial capital, a carriage came to a slow stop.

The old general in black armor dismounted, handed over a document, then remounted his chestnut horse and addressed the carriage interior in a consoling tone. “Don’t be upset. He probably had something genuinely urgent — otherwise, why wouldn’t he have at least sent a word before leaving?”

Inside the carriage.

A pretty girl in white robes gripped the cord of a silver bell, glaring at it with puffed-up indignation.

“I’m not upset.”

Having said it, she seemed to feel she needed to convince herself more thoroughly, and added with greater emphasis, “I know he must have had urgent business. He was certainly out there slaying demons.”

Chen Qiankun drove the carriage toward the War Temple.

Then drew to a stop before the demon-hunters’ guild hall.

He suppressed a wry smile. If Shen Yi hadn’t slipped quietly out of Qingzhou the way he had, this young lady would probably never have brought herself to exchange that vial of demon lord blood essence for a War Temple refinement — this was less about the refinement and more obviously an excuse to get herself to the capital.

“Haah.”

The old general shook his head and walked toward the guild hall.

Then the corner of his eye caught two figures.

One in a blue-green robe, looking every bit the dashing young swordsman. The other in a white dress, sword in hand, her figure warm and graceful, carrying a quiet charm that was simply undeniable.

The two of them stood side by side, apparently talking quietly about something.

“…”

Chen Qiankun nearly choked on nothing, and hurriedly pretended he hadn’t seen anything.

He walked into the guild hall.

The carriage, parked still and quiet, had its curtain lifted, just a fraction.

Lin Baixi peered out from behind it, looking out at the scene beyond — and her red lips pursed without her quite meaning them to.

She let the curtain drop and held the silver bell tighter in her palm.

It didn’t look like he was particularly busy, did it…

(End of Chapter 237)