Spirit Wings

Hao Nhien remained on the stone platform for a long while, his gaze fixed on the dark crevice behind it. From time to time, two currents emerged from within, separated along opposite sides of the stone wall, curved back around, then drew inward again in nearly perfect rhythm. The pattern was identical to something he had briefly sensed during his battle with the peak second rank Gray Shadow Wolf, though at the time, the snarls, blood, and relentless attacks had left him no room to examine it carefully.

Now that the cavern had fallen silent, the rhythm became much clearer. He observed it several more times before putting away the Tieu Dao Sword and climbing along the cracks in the wall. The closer he came to the narrow opening, the stronger the wind became. Rather than forcing his way inside, Hao Nhien waited patiently until the current weakened, then turned his shoulder and slipped through a gap barely wide enough for a grown man.

The space within was narrower than he had expected. In some places, his shoulders nearly touched both walls, while in others he had to turn his entire body sideways to continue. Air compressed between the stone surfaces became stronger and easier to distinguish, sometimes pressing down from above, sometimes sweeping across his waist, and at other times reversing toward his back. A few days earlier, Hao Nhien would probably have been forced to use true qi repeatedly just to maintain his balance. After the battle he had just fought, however, he knew how to wait for the right moment, observe the shift in the airflow, and step through the opening between two changes in pressure, greatly reducing the amount of strength he wasted.

The deeper he went, the denser the spiritual qi became. It carried none of the heaviness or suffocating pressure he might have expected. Instead, it felt unusually clean and light, with an edge that was difficult to describe. Every breath warmed the meridians in his legs and waist, while the true qi in his dantian, already close to its limit, began circulating faster on its own. Hao Nhien had to deliberately restrain the rhythm. The ninth layer was already very close, but he had no intention of attempting a breakthrough inside a narrow passage when he still had no idea what lay ahead.

The passage continued for nearly a ke. Throughout that time, the two currents that brushed past his shoulders and closed behind him appeared with increasing frequency. At first, he had assumed the pattern was simply a coincidence created by the terrain, but as the same rhythm repeated with almost no variation, the strange feeling in his heart became harder to ignore. The air did not seem to be changing direction merely because the stone walls forced it to. The way the two currents opened, drew inward, and repeated again and again reminded him of a motion that had been preserved here for a very long time.

Hao Nhien did not force himself to understand it immediately. He simply remembered the sensation and continued forward.

At last, the passage widened. He turned sideways through the final narrow section and stopped before a small stone chamber only a few zhang across. There were no beast bones, no claw marks, and no sign that any large creature had ever entered this place. The walls were unnaturally smooth, as though countless years of airflow had polished them down.

At the center of the chamber floated a thin layer of light.

The glow came from neither moonlight nor spirit stones. Its two sides occasionally spread outward before drawing back in the same rhythm. Each time they moved, the airflow within the chamber also separated in two directions before closing behind it, perfectly matching the pattern Hao Nhien had sensed throughout the passage.

He stood there watching for a long time. The questions that had followed him ever since entering the Gray Shadow Wolf King’s lair gradually began to connect. Why had the Beast King chosen this place? Why had its use of wind surpassed that of the rest of its pack by such a wide margin? Why did the currents within the cavern continue to move so steadily even after the King’s death?

Perhaps the answer was right in front of him.

Hao Nhien moved closer. When only a few steps remained between him and the light, the object suspended within finally became clear.

It was a small pair of wings.

Together, they were only about the size of two hands placed side by side, yet their structure was unlike anything he had ever seen. They were formed from neither flesh and bone, metal, nor feathers. The wings were almost completely transparent, their outlines visible only when the surrounding light passed across them. Within them, countless tiny currents intertwined. Some flowed along the edges, some spiraled inward, while others separated and merged again, all working together with an intricacy that was almost impossible to believe.

Hao Nhien found himself thinking back to everything he had experienced inside the cavern. The peak second rank Gray Shadow Wolf had known how to exploit individual currents to accelerate, change direction, and seize an advantage. The wings before him felt entirely different. Hundreds of tiny currents worked together to complete a single motion, as though every part already knew exactly what it was supposed to do.

He did not reach out at once.

After surviving so many brushes with death, Hao Nhien had learned not to rush toward anything unusually valuable. He circled the chamber once, examining the floor, walls, cracks, and even the space overhead. He found no formation he recognized, no demonic beast tracks, and no other spiritual object. Every unusual phenomenon in the chamber seemed to revolve around the wings suspended within the light.

Returning to the front, he studied them a little longer before extending his hand.

The instant his fingertip touched the edge of the light, a cool, gentle sensation traveled through him. The glow neither repelled nor resisted him, allowing his finger to pass through as easily as if he were touching the surface of water. Tiny threads of air curled around his fingertip, making Hao Nhien narrow his eyes.

The reaction had not come from his spiritual awareness extending outward. The wings themselves were responding to his touch.

He reached farther until his fingertip made contact with one wing.

His Sea of Consciousness trembled.

The Spirit Sword, which had been floating quietly within, gave a faint vibration. At the same time, a familiar sensation appeared in Hao Nhien’s awareness. It was not familiarity of aura, but of existence.

The Spirit Sword was not a physical sword stored inside his Sea of Consciousness. It had become a structure linked directly to his Divine Soul, responding to thought itself. The wings before him gave him a remarkably similar feeling.

“Spirit Wings...”

The name surfaced almost naturally in his mind.

Keeping his fingertip against the wings, Hao Nhien closed his eyes and guided a hair-thin thread of spiritual awareness inward through the point of contact.

What he sensed first left him astonished.

The Spirit Wings were far more than a pair of wings.

Within them existed a complex structure resembling a complete control system. Some pathways governed the angle at which the wings opened. Others adjusted tilt, thrust, and direction, while still others coordinated both sides to maintain balance. The entire structure resembled neither meridians nor a formation, yet every part was intimately connected to the wings’ movement.

Hao Nhien gradually understood why they had felt so familiar.

A person born without wings would not suddenly know how to control them simply because a physical pair had been attached to his back. The human body possessed no natural reflex for opening wings, balancing in the air, or adjusting orientation through such limbs. To use wings as naturally as arms or legs, there had to be a structure capable of turning intent into countless coordinated movements.

The Spirit Wings already possessed such a structure.

If this core could merge with his Divine Soul, Hao Nhien would not need to operate the wings like an external artifact. His intent could reach them directly, much like raising a hand. The body did not consciously calculate how many muscles to contract, which joints to rotate, or how much force each part should use. It simply obeyed the intention.

If he wished to change direction, the entire system could adjust itself around that single thought.

The realization made Hao Nhien’s heartbeat quicken.

This could completely change the way he fought.

He did not forcibly pull the Spirit Wings toward himself. Instead, he opened his Sea of Consciousness further and allowed the contact between them to deepen naturally.

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The layer of light around the wings trembled.

The two small wings slowly opened.

The wind inside the chamber changed with them.

Hundreds of currents moved at once, winding around Hao Nhien’s arm before spreading throughout the chamber. Wind-aspected spiritual qi that had accumulated here over countless years began to gather around him instead of remaining dispersed.

Within his Sea of Consciousness, the Spirit Sword vibrated once more.

The Spirit Wings before him gradually dissolved into translucent strands of light. They did not flow down into his meridians. Instead, they gathered at the point connected to his Divine Soul, where their structure began to re-form beside the Spirit Sword.

At first, there was only a tiny point of light. From it, two slender curves extended to either side, followed by countless threads of air weaving together until they gradually took the shape of a miniature pair of wings.

The core of the Spirit Wings had formed within his Sea of Consciousness.

The moment that structure stabilized, Hao Nhien sensed two entirely new points behind his back. The feeling was so strange that he had to remain still for a long while simply to confirm it. He knew whether they were open or closed, understood the angle of each side, and could even perceive the slightest imbalance between them.

It felt as though his body had suddenly gained two additional limbs.

He moved with a single thought.

The air behind him trembled.

A pair of transparent wings slowly appeared from his back.

They extended a little farther than his arm span, thin enough for light to pass through them, yet a careful look revealed countless tiny currents moving within. Each time the wings shifted, hundreds of those currents changed direction together, coordinating so precisely that Hao Nhien could almost imagine countless tiny muscles performing a single unified motion.

He remained still, feeling every change.

The wings did not feel like a foreign object under his control. They had already become part of his own system of movement. Even so, the Divine Soul understanding how to control them did not mean his physical body could adapt instantly.

He tried opening the wings a little wider.

His center of gravity shifted too quickly, and his body tilted sharply to the left. Hao Nhien had to plant a foot against the ground to keep from falling, then laughed at his own clumsiness.

Even with two new wings, his body would still need time to become accustomed to them.

That only made his excitement grow.

Wind-aspected spiritual qi continued gathering throughout the chamber. The Spirit Wing core within his Sea of Consciousness seemed to become a point of connection, drawing together Hao Nhien’s previously scattered experiences.

His memories of the currents in the Thanh Van River.

The days spent training beneath the waterfall.

The way the Gray Shadow Wolf King avoided the strongest line of force.

Air compressed through narrow cracks.

Backflow forming behind obstacles.

The way the Successor exploited the cavern’s currents.

The lesson that airflow constantly changed whenever moving objects disturbed it.

Things that had once existed as separate fragments began connecting through the new wings.

Before this, Hao Nhien had understood wind primarily through sight, touch, and reasoning. The Spirit Wings gave him something entirely different, a new organ of movement that had been made to interact directly with airflow. Concepts that had previously stopped at observation could now be tested through his own body.

Tilting the wings changed lift.

Drawing one side inward sooner caused his body to rotate.

Opening the wings too widely without enough speed increased drag sharply.

Closing them and reopening at the right moment could redirect existing momentum into a new line of movement.

Hao Nhien remained standing in place, yet countless movements were already being tested within his awareness.

The Spirit Wings had not placed a complete set of techniques inside his head. They had given the knowledge and insights he had accumulated a new structure through which they could connect.

As those scattered pieces came together, his affinity with wind began to change as well.

The wind-aspected spiritual qi around him no longer merely passed over his skin. His body began absorbing it through his cultivation method. The true qi within his meridians circulated faster and took on a quality it had never possessed before, becoming lighter, more fluid, and noticeably more responsive to the surrounding airflow.

He sat down on the stone floor. The wings behind him gradually folded as he steadied his breathing and began circulating true qi.

The barrier to the ninth layer of Qi Condensation had already become extremely thin.

Days of continuous battle had pushed the eighth layer to its limit. His meridians had also endured countless rounds of breathing cultivation, underwater training, combat, and recovery. Now, the wind-aspected spiritual qi accumulated within the chamber and the resonance of the Spirit Wings acted on his body at the same time, changing both the quantity and quality of his true qi.

Each circulation drew more spiritual qi into his meridians, refined it, and merged it with the true qi already inside him. The power filling his dantian grew steadily richer, while its nature also began to change. It was still Hao Nhien’s true qi, yet when it passed through the meridians connected to movement and the Spirit Wings, it responded faster, changed direction more easily, and carried far less of the heaviness it had possessed before.

After many circulations, the barrier ahead began to tremble.

Hao Nhien did not force it.

He simply maintained a steady rhythm.

At some point, the layer separating him from the next realm dissolved naturally, like a door that had already been nearly open finally crossing its threshold.

The ninth layer of Qi Condensation.

Yet the transformation had not ended.

Wind-aspected spiritual qi continued gathering throughout the chamber, while the newly merged Spirit Wing core maintained its resonance.

The early stage of the ninth layer stabilized rapidly.

His body could still take in more.

All the accumulation from the eighth layer was drawn upward at once, allowing his cultivation to continue rising without becoming unstable or hollow. His true qi grew fuller, his meridians adapted to the new state, and his affinity with wind deepened with every completed circulation.

Hao Nhien did not deliberately push forward.

He simply allowed his body to absorb as much as it could truly bear.

His cultivation gradually passed through the middle stage and continued deeper.

By the time the spiritual qi around him began to thin, he had firmly reached the late stage of the ninth layer of Qi Condensation.

At that moment, the Spirit Wing core within his Sea of Consciousness shook violently.

The sensation of the stone chamber vanished.

Hao Nhien opened his eyes, but the smooth stone walls were no longer before him.

A chaotic sky stretched across his vision.

Space had been torn open by countless fractures. Black clouds rolled like an ocean, while the land below had shattered into enormous fragments drifting through the void. Vast storms swept across heaven and earth, yet amid all that chaos lingered a crushing pressure so heavy that even the wind sometimes seemed to slow.

A golden creature streaked across the sky.

Hao Nhien nearly forgot to breathe.

Its body was so enormous that its fully spread wings could cover a vast portion of the heavens. Its feathers resembled no ordinary plumage. They looked like countless streams of wind compressed into form. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of vortices intertwined across those wings, and every movement distorted the surrounding space.

A name surfaced within his awareness.

Garuda.

Beyond that name and an ancient presence powerful enough to make his Divine Soul tremble, Hao Nhien received no further explanation.

Opposite Garuda was a colossal python. Its body stretched so far that its enormous coils seemed to surround an entire region of space. Black scales covered it from head to tail, each one resembling a fragment of condensed night. Its dark red eyes were so deep that even a brief glance gave Hao Nhien the sensation that his consciousness was being pulled downward.

Another name appeared.

The Great Python God.

The battle erupted immediately afterward.

Garuda beat its wings, and vast currents of wind transformed into countless blades that swept across heaven and earth. Lightning raced along its wings, merging with the storms before crashing down upon the python’s body. The Great Python God coiled upon itself, making the surrounding region grow unnaturally heavy. Airflows that had been raging moments earlier were forced to slow, while black poisonous mist spread across the sky and began eating away even at the radiance released by Garuda.

Hao Nhien stood within the vision like a speck of dust.

Every battle he had ever experienced suddenly felt impossibly small.

Qi Condensation, Foundation Establishment, Golden Core, even realms that had once seemed high enough to make him look upward now felt inadequate to describe the strength of the two beings before him.

Garuda kept the wind in motion, while the Great Python God forced everything around it to slow, locking down space and gradually closing off every route of escape. Their struggle had gone far beyond physical strength or raw energy. Everything they did seemed to influence the very laws governing movement in the surrounding world.

Hao Nhien watched until his scalp tingled.

Then the Great Python God opened its eyes wide.

Its dark red pupils transformed into unfathomable vortices. Hao Nhien needed only one brief glance before his thoughts began to slow. He forgot where he was, forgot why this vision had appeared, and even his own name started to feel distant.

A familiar sensation suddenly pulled him back.

Quan Nha.

Charm Art.

Hao Nhien bit down hard on his tongue. The taste of blood sharpened his consciousness long enough for him to tear his attention away from those enormous eyes.

The sensation was not exactly the same as Quan Nha’s Charm Art, yet the resemblance was far too strong to dismiss.

The Python King’s beast core.

The ability Quan Nha had only recently awakened.

And the eyes of the Great Python God.

There had to be some connection among the three, though Hao Nhien did not yet have enough information to draw a conclusion.

The battle before him continued toward its final moment.

The enormous coils of the Great Python God gradually closed around Garuda, compressing the surrounding space and sealing one path of escape after another. Garuda spread its golden wings, and then its entire body began to shine.

Hao Nhien did not understand exactly what was happening, but instinct told him that the divine creature was paying a terrible price.

Light from its body began gathering into its wings.

Flesh and blood dissolved into wind.

Bones merged into streams of radiance.

Lightning condensed along every line of the wings.

Eventually, the enormous body nearly disappeared, leaving only a pair of wings stretching across the sky.

They folded inward, then opened.

The storm erupted.

The attack was no longer composed of separate wind blades. Layers of airflow overlapped until space itself seemed to be cut apart. The Great Python God’s body began to disintegrate. Scales shattered, black blood spilled into the void, and its colossal coils disappeared one after another.

Yet its eyes remained.

When everything finally settled, Garuda had lost its body, leaving only a pair of wings suspended in the void.

The Great Python God had also lost its physical form.

What remained were those dark red eyes.

On one side, wings.

On the other, eyes.

Two remnants floated within a world that had nearly been destroyed.

Then the vision faded.