The pocket dimension behind the waterfall.
Gray mist formed its walls, preserving the Blight Walker's bones and his final trap in a state of absolute stasis.
That stasis ended the moment Mo Jue's Reliquary opened.
The Shapeshifter's Heart was not a physical organ. It was a semi-sentient essence that possessed two attributes: Spatial distortion and Vitality manipulation.
As it surged into Mo Jue's chest, it did not seek to nest peacefully. It sought to enforce the Blight Walker's final command: Destroy the Mo Clan, or be destroyed.
To a normal young Grafter, the influx of a Rank 2 Phantom into a Rank 1 vessel would result in instantaneous cellular degradation. The mortal body would simply vaporize under the pressure.
Mo Jue did not vaporize. He locked his jaw, his three eyes remaining wide open, tracking the internal invasion with absolute detachment.
The Foreign essence was putting so much pressure on Reliquary walls. Mo Jue's internal temperature rising fast.
Inside his Reliquary, a war of annihilation was happening.
The Howling Shadow, comfortable in its position as the apex predator reacted to the intrusion with violent territoriality. It threw itself at the shapeshifter's heart.
The Shapeshifter's Heart retaliated. It realeased a wave of aggressive life force.
Where the Heart's essence touched Mo Jue's internal organs, the cells hyper-regenerated. Tumors of bone and muscle began to rapidly form along his ribcage, threatening to crush his lungs from the inside out.
The Vitality attribute without supervision was a cancer.
Simultaneously, the Heart's Spatial attribute began to fold the space within the Reliquary, attempting to tear the Howling Shadow into isolated, manageable fragments.
The residual will of the Blight Walker echoed directly into Mo Jue's cerebral cortex: 'Swear the oath. Bind your soul to my revenge. The Mo Clan must burn.'
"Oaths are the currency of the powerless," Mo Jue's consciousness replied. The voice holds the confidence weight of two millennia.
Mo Jue did not fight the Heart's Vitality, nor did he assist the Shadow. He became the anvil upon which they would strike each other.
He reversed the flow of his own meridians. Instead of pushing essence out to form a barrier, he drew the necrotic essence of the Howling Shadow down to his bloodstream, directing it precisely toward the hyper-regenerating tumors the Heart was creating.
He matched the rate of cellular decay to the rate of cellular generation. Achieve biological equilibrium.
The pain was enormous. His ribs cracked under the pressure of rapid bone growth, only to immediately soften and dissolve as the Shadow's necrosis ate the excess. His left lung collapsed, then instantly re-inflated as new tissue grew over the necrotic scars. Blood poured from his nose, his ears, and the corners of his eyes.
To any observer, it would appear as though Mo Jue were dying a gruesome, agonizing death. But behind his three eyes, there was only cold calculation.
The Shapeshifter's Heart, realizing that its physical attacks were being neutralized, shifted its strategy. The Spatial attribute flared. If it could not destroy the body, it would tear the soul apart and implant the Blight Walker's command directly into the fractured pieces.
The multi-colored liquid surged upward, invading the labyrinth of Mo Jue's mind.
It expected to find the fragile, easily broken ego of a teenager. It intended to project its memories of the Mo Clan's betrayal, overwhelming the boy with the Blight Walker's ancient hatred.
Instead, it crashed into an abyss.
The Heart's essence flooded into Mo Jue's memories, and the Rank 2 Phantom immediately recoiled in something akin to terror.
It was met with an ocean of blood. It saw the Sky Rending Peak.
It saw the refinement of a million infant souls.
It saw cities ground into dust for the sake of a single drop of Aeon essence.
It saw a mind so vast, so utterly devoid of empathy, that the Blight Walker's petty revenge against a clan felt like a grain of sand dropping into a bottomless grievance and curses.
The residual will of the Blight Walker shattered upon contact with the truth of the demon.
Erased. Neutralized.
With the Walker's will destroyed, the Shapeshifter's Heart was reduced to its base state: a powerful, directionless mass of Spatial and Vitality essence. It was no longer an invader; it was raw material.
Mo Jue's 2000-year-old will descended upon the Reliquary like a falling mountain.
He crushed the Howling Shadow back into the lower quadrant of his Dantian, forcing it into submission. Then, he seized the Shapeshifter's Heart. He wove it into the very walls of the Reliquary.
The liquid crystallized, forming a secondary shifting lining.
Integration completed and the Dual Graft successful.
His personal strength that was Rank 1 Initial-Stage jumped to Peak-Stage.
Mo Jue's dantian also expanded. Internal volume increased by a factor of three.
However, the amount of space taken by the Reliquary in his Dantian remained 74 percent.
Mo Jue exhaled. A cloud of steam escaped his lips.
He opened his eyes. He was kneeling on the floor of bones. The physical damage to his body was extensive, but the vitality attribute of the newly assimilated Heart was already passively working, stitching torn muscle fibers and flushing the necrotic waste from his system.
He stood up. The movements were stiff but functional.
He looked toward the center of the room. The skeleton of the Blight Walker sat silently, the spinning rings of bone now scattered across the floor. In the skeleton's lap rested the box made of Soul Jade Iron.
Mo Jue approached it. The iron was heavily saturated with spatial essence, rendering it impervious to physical force of Rank 3 and below.
Normally, a key is needed or a specific clan bloodline to open it.
Mo Jue simply placed his hand on the lid. He pulsed the essence of the Shapeshifter's Heart. The spatial lock within the iron recognized the signature of its former master's Phantom. The mechanism clicked, and the heavy lid slid back seamlessly.
Inside lay two items.
The first was a scroll made from the tanned skin of a Rank 3 Phantom. It was covered in cramped runes. Mo Jue's third eye scanned the text, immediately deciphering the archaic dialect.
The Blight Scripture. It was a cultivation method, detailing the exact process of converting standard environmental miasma into Soul Pale. More importantly, it contained the refinement formula required to evolve the Shapeshifter's Heart from Rank 2 back to its original Rank 5 state.
It is a treasure compared to the Mo Clan's core techniques that are linear and inefficient.
This scripture provides a self-sustaining resource loop. No wonder the Mo Clan risked a war with a Rank 5.
The second item in the box was a fist-sized chunk of raw Soul Pale. It looked like a piece of rough quartz, but it was incredibly heavy and radiated a chilling aura. To a mortal, holding it would cause immediate frostbite. But to Mo Jue, it was high grade resource.
A single piece of Soul Pale of this size was equivalent to more than a thousand standard Soul Jades.
He placed the scroll and the Soul Pale back into the box. He didn't need to carry it in his hands. He channeled his essence into the Shapeshifter's Heart, utilizing its Spatial attribute.
A small, rippling tear appeared in the air directly in front of his chest.
A spatial pocket linked to the unused space in his Dantian. He pushed the heavy iron box into the tear, and it vanished without a sound.
Mo Jue turned his attention to the periphery of the chamber. The calcified foot-creature was cowering against the gray mist wall. It had sensed the death of the Blight Walker's residual will and the assimilation of the Heart.
Mo Jue walked over to it. He didn't offer it Bitter Root Extract. He projected a fraction of the Blight Walker's essence through the Heart.
The Leech trembled, then hopped forward, pressing itself against Mo Jue's boot in a display of absolute submission.
Mo Jue couldn't help but shake his head. He came here targeting this Phantom, but he got something much more powerful.
"You will remain in the Ravine," Mo Jue commanded with a cold voice. "You will consume the natural iron ore and convert it to Soul Pale."
The Leech vibrated in acknowledgment, immediately turning and hopping toward a narrow crack in the stone floor, disappearing into the subterranean depths of the ridge.
The vault was now empty of value. It was time to address the remaining variables outside.
Mo Jue stepped back through the veil of black water, emerging into the cold night air of the Northern Ravine.
The moon had shifted slightly; the internal battle had taken less than an hour. The miasma was thick, rolling through.
At his feet lay the corpse of Mo Lin.
The boy's eyes were wide, frozen in an expression of absolute terror.
His chest was a ruined, bloody hole where Mo Jue's shadow hand had pierced. The Lunar Dagger Phantom was still embedded in Mo Lin's forearm. It was erratic and about to escape to the wild. Without a host containing it, the phantom's intent was awakening.
The disappearance of Mo Lin will certainly trigger investigation. The Elders will deploy tracking Phantoms. Bloodhounds, Scent Trackers, and many more.
Leaving the body here, near the waterfall, was a tactical error. However, carrying it back to the village was equally flawed.
Mo Jue knelt beside the corpse. He placed his hand over Mo Lin's forearm.
"A specialist tool" Mo Jue noted. "Efficient for assassination."
He didn't draw the Lunar Dagger into his Reliquary to graft it.
Although his vessel was expanded by the Spatial Heart, it is currently focused on stabilizing the Rank 2 entity.
He hasn't fully refined the Shapeshifter's Heart and the Howling Phantom. As long as the there's a trace of intent from the two, Mo Jue needs to be cautious.
He drew the Lunar Dagger out of Mo Lin's arm, and used all his might to break it apart.
One of the fragments was then fed to the Howling Shadow. This is one of the techniques to strengthen a Phantom. Similar to how Mo Jue fed the Eye Phantom Shard to the Howling Shadow.
The Shadow surged up Mo Jue's arm, its black essence wrapping around the fragmented dagger.
There was a brief, sharp screech of tearing essence, and then the light was gone. The Howling Shadow digested the fragment, its necrotic power thickening and growing denser.
Using his experience, Mo Jue suppressed the manifestation of the consumed dagger. All its power were supplemented to the Howling Shadow.
As for the remaining fragments, Mo Jue placed it inside his personal space.
Then, he stripped Mo Lin of his spatial pouch, finding forty Soul Jades, a vial of low-grade healing powder, and a finely crafted iron insignia denoting his father's rank. Mo Jue tossed the insignia.
As for the rest, he stored it in his own spatial pocket.
Now, the disposal.
Mo Jue looked at the pool of black water at the base of the waterfall. He knew the properties of this water; it was saturated with the runoff of the Soul Pale that the Hidden Leech had been feeding on for centuries. It possessed a highly petrifying quality.
He gripped Mo Lin's corpse by the collar and dragged it to the edge of the pool. With a casual, effortless heave, he pushed the body into the black water.
The reaction was immediate. The water began to boil, hissing as the high-density mineral essence reacted with the organic matter. Mo Lin's skin turned chalky white within seconds. His clothes dissolved, and his flesh began to calcify, turning into a rigid, stone-like substance. The body sank slowly, twisting in the currents until it became just another indistinct rock at the bottom of the deep pool.
"A tragedy" Mo Jue said to the empty night. "A fool wandered past the safe zones"
He activated his Manifest Sight. The third eye on his forehead scanned the area. He saw the traces of his own essence, the residual blood on the mud, and the scent of the Bitter Root Extract.
He allowed the Howling Shadow to manifest once more, sweeping the area with a wave of necrotic energy. It consumed the blood, neutralized the extract, and scrambled the essence signatures.
To tracking Phantoms the clan might deploy, the site would simply read as a dangerous, highly eroded zone. The kind of place a foolish boy like Mo Lin would naturally meet his end.
Mo Jue turned away from the waterfall.
The physical toll of the night was catching up to his mortal vessel. His muscles ached, and his core temperature was abnormally low. But his spirit was perfectly aligned.
He had entered the Ravine as a Rank 1 Initial Stage Grafter. He was returning as a Rank 1 Peak Stage Grafter, possessing a Rank 2 Spatial Phantom, a hidden storage dimension, a phantom as a lackey, a piece of high-grade Soul Pale, and a legacy scripture.
It was a fruitful night.
Mo Jue walked back, his three eyes scanning the darkness, carefully avoiding dangerous zones and wild Dao Phantoms. He arrived back at his dormitory just as the distant light of dawn began to touch the jagged peaks of the ridge.
He slipped through the window, cleaned himself, changed into a new set of fresh clothes and hid the previous one on his spatial storage.
Finally, he laid down on his straw mat and closed his eyes. The third slit on his forehead sealed seamlessly.
He slowed his heart rate and waited for the morning bell, and for the screams that would follow when the Logistics Head realized his son was missing.