Dao God of the Demonic Path

Chapter 9 – Limit of a talentless body

Inside a windowless stone chamber, the door shut with a heavy rumble as Han Tian Yi entered.

He sealed it personally.

On one side of the chamber, supplies were already arranged neatly. Beef jerky, Grain pellets, and a flowing fresh water from outside.

Enough to sustain years of isolation.

Formation arrays were carved into the floor and walls, faint lines glowing as they continuously drew in spiritual energy from the surroundings.

A privilege only direct descendants had.

Han Tian Yi stepped to the center and sat cross-legged.

Silence swallowed the chamber.

Day passed. Night passed. Then another. And another.

Spiritual energy gathered in thin wisps, flowing toward him like obedient streams. He absorbed every strand without waste, steadily filling the space within his mind.

Deep within his forehead, his spiritual core pulsed faintly.

Again and again, energy accumulated.

Again and again, it compressed.

Repetitive advances that requires patience and understanding.

Han Tian Yi was playing tag with his spiritual sea and core.

A faint pressure built within.

After a full month of uninterrupted cultivation, his eyelids trembled slightly.

“I'm near mid-stage.”

He summoned his spiritual sea.

A vast surge of energy rose and slammed against the vessel of his spiritual core.

Once. Twice.

The invisible vessel trembled.

Crack.

A thin fracture appeared.

Han Tian Yi’s brows furrowed.

“…Not yet.”

The spiritual sea was immediately withdrawn. The cracks were gently stabilized as he returned to quiet cultivation, slowly accumulating spiritual energy once again.

The next day, he tried again.

The pressure surged. The vessel shook.

But the force fell short.

“My spiritual sea is insufficient.”

His voice was low, almost indifferent.

“A root without traits… how inefficient.”

He resumed cultivating without hesitation.

On the third day, the pressure rose once more.

This time—

Shatter.

The vessel of the spiritual core broke apart completely.

The chamber fell into absolute stillness.

Now came the true danger.

Han Tian Yi’s control became extraordinarily delicate. The shattered core was carefully gathered and reshaped, bit by bit, as if molding fragile clay into a larger container.

No rush, only meticulous and precise molding. One mistake will not only shatter his cultivation base and be back to being a mortal but there's also the risk of him dying.

Time slipped by unnoticed.

One day. Three days. Seven days.

At last, the new vessel stabilized.

His eyes slowly opened.

A deeper, denser spiritual fluctuation pulsed from his body.

Mid-stage Foundation Establishment.

He exhaled quietly.

“Even with my talent… a full week just to reshape the core.”

Then he closed his eyes again.

Cultivating once again.

Mid-stage became late-stage. Late-stage approached perfection.

When he thought he was almost there—

“GUH—”

His body jerked violently.

Blood burst from his lips, then his nose, then his ears, warm streaks spilling down his face before he could even react.

The spiritual energy inside his meridians convulsed.

What was once a steady flow turned feral, crashing against his dantian like a tidal wave with nowhere to go.

His fingers dug into his knees, nails pressing through the fabric as a tremor ran through his entire body.

He didn’t scream.

His jaw locked instead.

Another surge tore through him.

His vision flickered, darkening at the edges as a metallic taste flooded his mouth, thick and suffocating. Blood continued to drip, staining his robes, yet his posture remained cross-legged, spine rigid as iron.

The pain did not come in waves.

It stayed lodged inside him, twisting, crushing, devouring every thread of focus he had left.

For a moment, his breathing nearly collapsed and his consciousness almost fade.

Then—

He bit his lips hard to maintain conscious. Forcefully suppressing the rampaging spiritual energy and stopped his advance.

The violent circulation slowed.

Stabilized.

A shaky breath slipped past his bloodied lips.

“Patient…”

His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t rush.”

Years passed in absolute isolation.

Five years later, the formation lines in the chamber flickered faintly as Han Tian Yi finally opened his eyes once more.

Peak Foundation Establishment.

Yet there was no joy in his expression.

Only stillness.

During those five years, he had tested everything. Pills, heaven-tier cultivation techniques, refinement methods, and constitution supplements.

Again and again.

The result never changed.

He lowered his gaze to his own hands.

Steady.

Powerful.

But utterly limited.

Even after consuming top-tier essence pills, his meridians showed signs of strain the moment his cultivation climbed too high.

Nascent Soul.

This was the highest realm his body could withstand.

No matter how much talent he possessed. No matter how perfect his control was. No matter how many resources he consumed.

His body would collapse beyond that point.

A low laugh escaped him.

Cold, sharp and empty.

“So this…”

His eyes darkened, hatred slowly igniting within them.

“…is the wall Heaven placed before me.”

He rose from his meditation seat. His voice echoed against the stone walls, calm yet filled with terrifying resolve.

“If the Dao rejects me…”

His lips curled into a chilling smile.

“Then I will become its calamity.”

Spiritual pressure rippled faintly through the chamber.

“All who oppose me will kneel.”

His laughter rang out, metallic and hollow, reverberating like steel striking stone.

“The heavens, the Dao, the world itself…

They will bend.

I, Han Tian Yi, will carve my name into history.”

The laughter lingered in the sealed chamber, heavy and ominous, like the distant rumble of an approaching storm.