Cultivation: I Can Steal Lifespan from Spirit Beasts

Chapter 207: The Ring

Wherever the eye could see, devastation reigned.

The once verdant hills, the shimmering lakes, the bustling marketplaces, and the quiet residences… all of it was gone.

It was as if a catastrophic natural disaster had violently scoured the earth, leaving nothing but shattered walls and collapsed, smoldering ruins. If one were to look down from the heavens, the landscape of the garrison resembled a series of ugly, jagged scars carved into the flesh of the world.

Wang Ba stood on the muddy banks of what used to be the South Lake.

His expression was as cold as the grave.

The South Lake, which had miraculously survived the Heavenly Gate Sect’s initial invasion over a decade ago, was now a turbid, murky swamp. The adjacent hill had been sheared cleanly in half, its upper mass collapsed entirely into the water.

Along the shoreline, the once-thriving chicken farms and meticulously tended spirit fields were erased from existence.

Only a vast expanse of scorched, black earth remained.

Sensing a familiar spiritual resonance, Wang Ba walked quickly toward a specific patch of ash. He crouched, his fingers sifting through the soot, and pulled out a half-burnt, charred gourd vine.

The second-grade gourd vine… Wang Ba thought, his chest tightening. It had ultimately failed to reach maturity.

“Senior Brother,” Shen Fu called out, walking over with a deep frown. “There is absolutely no trace of Bu Chan’s aura here.”

As the old proverb went: A goose leaves its cry behind. Even if a cultivator perished, their unique spiritual signature would linger in the environment for a short time. Specialized tracking methods, or simply a highly sensitive Divine Sense, could detect those final echoes.

Yet, Shen Fu’s paranoid, hyper-tuned senses had picked up nothing.

Hearing this, a desperate, fragile glimmer of hope flared in Wang Ba’s eyes. He instantly dropped the charred vine.

Summoning his Qi, he rocketed into the sky, surveying the devastated compound from a high altitude.

Soon, his gaze locked onto a specific sector where a concentrated, suffocating aura of blood and malice continued to surge into the heavens.

“There!”

Wang Ba blurred into motion, landing heavily beside another massive tract of scorched earth.

Strangely, there were no pools of blood here. No severed limbs. No shattered weapons.

Yet, Wang Ba’s face grew substantially darker.

The suffocating density of the blood-aura couldn’t lie. It was blatantly obvious that the attacker had harbored a hatred so profound, so absolute, that they had vaporized every living cultivator in this sector into fine ash with a single strike!

A Golden Core True Person could accomplish such total annihilation in the blink of an eye.

“The Mountain Sea Sect…” Wang Ba hissed, his eyes swimming with icy murder.

But as he swept the area with his Divine Sense, the same unsettling reality persisted: there was absolutely no trace of Bu Chan’s aura within the kill-zone.

Shen Fu, landing a moment later, swept the area himself and shook his head confirming the negative result.

Wang Ba’s frown deepened into a severe scowl.

He launched himself into the air once more, frantically scanning the surrounding peaks. As his gaze swept over the cluster of mountains housing the colossal, chained purple figure, he noticed a distinct ring of scorched earth encircling the beast.

He didn’t ignore the anomaly. Although he harbored extreme, paranoid wariness toward Fan Ming’s Nascent Soul, he descended toward the chains.

For safety’s sake, he immediately summoned Bing Yi from his spirit beast bag.

This specific Black Feather Chicken—having survived the fatal Withered Soul Seeding Method by devouring a Third Rank Yin Ghost—had successfully mutated into a Second Rank Top Grade anomaly. It was currently bursting with unnatural vitality.

Compared to its previous dull-witted state, a faint, undeniable spark of predatory intelligence now gleamed in its beady eyes. It was a specialist in devouring Yin Ghosts, though Wang Ba had no idea if its cosmic digestion would work on a Nascent Soul.

Upon materializing, Bing Yi clucked happily, waddling over to affectionately nuzzle Wang Ba’s leg.

However, the bird quickly sensed the suffocating tension rolling off its master. Realizing this wasn’t playtime, Bing Yi wasn’t upset. It simply tilted its head and began inspecting its new surroundings.

Its gaze immediately locked onto the colossal, purple-scaled figure bound by the massive iron chains.

Driven by sheer, predatory curiosity, the chicken began to waddle toward the Nascent Soul.

“Bing Yi! Stop!” Wang Ba barked sharply.

Bing Yi paused, glancing back at Wang Ba with profound confusion. But the cosmic anomaly’s curiosity outweighed its obedience. It took two more determined steps toward the beast.

Fan Ming remained perfectly still, its massive eyes tightly shut, seemingly entirely oblivious to the chicken’s approach.

Seeing no immediate threat of a counter-attack, Wang Ba divided his attention, sweeping the scorched earth around the chains with his Divine Sense.

Zero residual cultivator auras.

Not here either… Wang Ba didn’t know whether to scream in frustration or weep with relief.

The complete absence of her aura heavily implied Bu Chan might have survived the initial bombardment. But it also meant he had absolutely no leads on where she could be.

Suddenly, a violent vibration emanated from his Storage Bag.

Startled, Wang Ba retrieved the offending item.

It was the ‘Third Rank Dragon-Seeking Plate’ he had extorted from the fisherman, Wu Buping.

“Hmm?” Wang Ba murmured in confusion.

The ancient compass needle was spinning wildly before dead-locking onto the massive iron chains binding Fan Ming. It vibrated so intensely it threatened to shatter the glass casing.

Wang Ba scowled. He had absolutely zero interest in scavenging for spiritual materials right now. Furthermore, even if the chains were forged from supreme Fourth Rank metals, if twenty Golden Core True Persons couldn’t break them, he certainly couldn’t.

He confirmed his assumption with a quick, half-hearted strike of his own Qi, watching it harmlessly deflect off the iron.

He shoved the compass back into his bag.

He conducted another meticulous sweep of the area. Aside from the scorched earth and a single, glaringly fresh crack on one of the massive iron links, there were no traces of spellcasting.

And still no trace of Bu Chan.

Buzz. The Storage Bag vibrated violently again.

Annoyed, Wang Ba yanked the Dragon-Seeking Plate back out.

This time, the needle had violently snapped toward a pile of shattered bedrock near the beast’s tail.

Hesitating for a fraction of a second, Wang Ba followed the needle’s trajectory. Digging through the rubble, his fingers brushed against cold metal. He unearthed a palm-sized, jagged chunk of iron that perfectly matched the material of Fan Ming’s chains.

It must be a fragment Ji Lan managed to chip off… Wang Ba deduced. He didn’t have the mental bandwidth to care, but since the Third Rank compass was practically screaming at him to take it, he casually tossed the chunk into his Storage Bag.

As he stood up, a terrifying, paralyzing chill seized his spine!

He slowly looked up.

Within the heavy chains, Fan Ming had opened its eyes. The massive, ancient pupils were locked directly onto Wang Ba, completely devoid of emotion.

But what sent Wang Ba’s heart into his throat was the movement behind the chicken.

A viscous, purple phantom was silently, rapidly oozing out from the fresh crack in the iron chain. It moved with terrifying, predatory stealth, rearing up behind the completely oblivious Bing Yi!

“BING YI! RUN!” Wang Ba roared, his voice cracking.

Simultaneously, he violently ignited his strongest Magical Artifact, hurling it directly at the purple phantom!

As the artifact closed the distance, a flicker of terrifying, highly-intelligent mockery flashed through Fan Ming’s ancient eyes.

The purple phantom violently accelerated, instantly engulfing Bing Yi in a suffocating sphere of energy!

Under Wang Ba’s horrified, disbelieving gaze, the purple sphere rapidly compressed, violently retracting back into the microscopic crack in the iron chain.

The Black Feather Chicken was gone. It had vanished entirely into the metal!

A microsecond later, Wang Ba’s Magical Artifact slammed into the iron chain.

Clang!

The sharp, ringing impact echoed across the desolate peaks.

Wang Ba’s eyes widened in horror as he realized his supreme Magical Artifact had sustained heavy, structural damage from the impact alone!

He stared at the chains, a cold sweat breaking out across his body. The sheer density and value of these chains… it’s incomprehensible. He finally understood why the Five Sects had simply abandoned the divine beast. They physically lacked the firepower to free it.

“Bing Yi…” Wang Ba muttered, his face ashen.

He cast one final, terrified glance at Fan Ming, before decisively triggering his movement technique and rocketing into the sky.

Losing his supreme anti-ghost asset was agonizing, but throwing his own life away to fight an unfathomable Nascent Soul entity for a chicken was pure suicide.

He spent the next hour flying a tight grid pattern over the entire ruined garrison, his Divine Sense stretched to its absolute limit.

Still nothing.

Where the hell is she?! Did the Five Sects take prisoners before the Mountain Sea Sect bombarded the compound? Could the Eastern Sage Sect have taken her?!

Wang Ba clung desperately to that fantasy. Bu Chan was originally a disciple of the Eastern Sage Sect. Perhaps one of the invading elders had recognized her and evacuated her before the slaughter began. It was a perfectly logical assumption; the Eastern Sage Sect had been living as refugees for a decade and desperately needed to replenish their ranks.

Just as he was convincing himself of this narrative, Shen Fu flew up to meet him.

The youth’s face was completely devoid of color, his posture heavy and defeated.

Seeing Shen Fu, a sickening, suffocating premonition seized Wang Ba’s heart.

And a moment later, the nightmare became reality.

“Senior Brother… I found this near the South Lake,” Shen Fu whispered, his voice trembling.

He slowly opened his palm.

Resting in the center was a simple, ancient ring, heavily caked in dried mud and ash.

Seeing the ring, the world stopped spinning. Wang Ba stood perfectly, terrifyingly still.

It was Bu Chan’s ring. The exact same ring she had given him years ago as a token of her life, and the ring he had later returned to her when they solidified their bond.

It was their anchor.

In that frozen instant, a violent tsunami of memories—every smile, every quiet moment in the spirit fields, every shared meal—violently breached the walls of his mind, threatening to drown his sanity.

He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper, forcefully, brutally suppressing the emotional collapse.

His hand trembling slightly, he picked up the muddy ring and injected a sliver of Divine Sense into it.

Inside lay a collection of mundane sundries, low-tier Magical Artifacts, and defensive Talismans.

Every single item in the ring… was something he had personally forged or bought for her.

He slowly closed his fist, the metal of the ring biting deeply into his palm.

When he looked up, the light in his eyes was completely, absolutely dead.

“The Mountain Sea Sect…”

…

Three days later.

“Congratulations to the Sect Leader for executing the Supreme Elder of the Mountain Sea Sect!”

“All hail the Sect Leader! May his reign last a thousand generations!”

The Eastern Sage garrison.

Atop the newly repaired, pristine central plaza, thousands of surviving Heavenly Gate Sect cultivators knelt, roaring their praises toward the heavens.

Hovering above them was the architect of the massacre, Sect Leader Ning Daohuan.

Flanking him were the twenty Golden Core True Persons, finally revealing their true faces to the masses. They basked in the fanatical worship of their disciples, radiating an aura of absolute, undisputed supremacy.

Even though the crowd below was noticeably thinner, missing hundreds of familiar faces that had been sacrificed to the Five Sects.

Hidden amidst the kneeling masses, Wang Ba’s expression was a mask of cold, unreadable apathy.

Through the whispered gossip and boasting of the surrounding disciples, he had meticulously pieced together the entirety of Ning Daohuan’s grand, demonic strategy.

It was a masterclass in psychological warfare. Ning Daohuan had deliberately used Lu Yuansheng as a hyper-aggressive decoy to fixate the Incense Burner Path’s attention on Zhongyuan City. Simultaneously, he had covertly leaked the “truth” of the garrison’s vulnerability to the spies of the Five Sects.

He had intentionally fed the garrison—and everyone inside it—to the Five Sects to validate his bluff.

While the Five Sects were busy celebrating their reclamation of the Eastern Sage garrison, Ning Daohuan and his elite Golden Core strike force had completely bypassed the warzone, materializing deep within the heart of the Mountain Sea Sect.

Timing his strike with terrifying, omniscient precision, Ning Daohuan had ambushed the Mountain Sea Sect’s Grand Elder, Pang Xiao, in the exact hour following his Nascent Soul Tribulation—when the man’s physical vessel was broken and his soul had yet to stabilize.

Ning Daohuan had effortlessly butchered the nascent god.

The Mountain Sea Sect had been catastrophically crippled. Not only had they lost their newly ascended Nascent Soul anchor, but their ancestral mountain gates had been razed to the ground by the twenty Golden Cores.

Listening to the details, Wang Ba experienced a chilling epiphany regarding his previous array-building mission.

Months ago, he had been ordered to establish hidden Formations near Luolan Mountain—a location suspiciously close to the Mountain Sea Sect. At the time, he had felt a gnawing sense of paranoia. Now, he realized the terrifying truth: he had been building the staging ground and teleportation anchors for Ning Daohuan’s assassination squad.

But how did Ning Daohuan know the exact hour Pang Xiao would attempt his Tribulation? Wang Ba wondered, a cold sweat breaking out.

That question was destined to remain a mystery, buried in the abyss of Ning Daohuan’s mind.

Wang Ba used his peripheral vision to burn Ning Daohuan’s face into his memory.

If Ning Daohuan hadn’t callously used the Eastern Sage garrison as a sacrificial pawn, the Five Sects would never have attacked.

If the garrison hadn’t fallen, Bu Chan would still be…

The icy, suffocating void in Wang Ba’s heart expanded, threatening to consume him. He violently clamped down on the emotion, burying it beneath layers of iron logic.

High above, Ning Daohuan didn’t waste time on grandiose speeches. Yes, the assassination of Pang Xiao was a monumental victory that shattered the Five Sects’ geopolitical balance, but the war was far from over. The Incense Burner Path remained a virulent threat, and the surviving four sects of the State of Chen were now cornered and highly volatile.

The only reason Ning Daohuan was wasting time on this victory rally was to violently suppress the widespread panic and mutiny brewing among the disciples whose friends and masters had been sacrificed in the garrison.

With the rally concluded, the grueling labor of reconstructing the garrison’s infrastructure began immediately.

Wang Ba and Shen Fu were conscripted into the engineering corps, tasked with the critical re-establishment of the teleportation arrays.

It was the sect’s absolute highest priority.

Golden Core True Person Jing Kongcheng personally oversaw the delicate runic alignments, while Wang Ba and the other Foundation Establishment cultivators acted as manual laborers, moving heavy materials and carving secondary circuits.

Within days, the primary hub was completed.

A brilliant, pulsing light flared across the array platform. The spatial anchor was live.

“Send a volunteer through. Have the receiving garrison confirm the link,” Jing Kongcheng ordered casually.

A nervous disciple stepped onto the platform and vanished in a flash of light.

A grueling ten minutes passed before the array flared again. The disciple stepped out, looking relieved.

Moments later, a continuous stream of light erupted from the array as a massive wave of reinforcements from the other garrisons began pouring through.

“The anchor is stable! The network is reconnected!” a captain shouted triumphantly.

Standing on the periphery, Wang Ba remained entirely expressionless. His only driving thought was finishing his shift so he could return to his quarters and cultivate.

Bu Chan was gone. His final, tethering anchor to the Heavenly Gate Sect had been violently severed.

The moment his second Dantian was stabilized enough to host the Yin Food Worm Queen, he was vanishing into the night.

Right… Shen Fu… Wang Ba thought, his gaze sweeping the construction site until he spotted his Junior Brother inspecting a secondary array terminal. I’ll take him with me when the time comes.

As he plotted their defection, the phantom memory of Bu Chan’s gentle smile drifted across his mind’s eye.

The pain was an agonizing, physical weight in his chest, deepening his absolute isolation.

And then.

Cutting through the noise of the construction site, a voice—achingly, impossibly familiar—rang out behind him:

“Senior Brother!”