Chapter 17: The Compendium of Weapons

Dugu Bieli stared in astonishment at the basket, then glanced at the young man's departing figure, momentarily at a loss. At the mention of food, his stomach grumbled at just the right time, chasing away his tangled thoughts for the moment. He got up and took the basket.

Inside were several clean fruits, exuding a faint fragrance along with a strong surge of energy. Clearly, these were not ordinary fruits—they could not only replenish physical strength, but also restore power and mental energy.

With his current physique, Dugu Bieli could go several days without sleep with little consequence, but the sustained mental depletion during continuous combat was precisely what these fruits could remedy. Confirming there was no danger, he devoured them all. The fruit nearly melted in his mouth, then released two streams of energy that nourished both body and mind.

By the time he finished the basket, he had returned to his peak state. With a mere thought, a wave of power, twenty times greater than before, surged forth from his five springs. As the force struck, the springs simultaneously resonated, some notes light and others heavy, like rain tapping on banana leaves—sometimes urgent, sometimes languid, ever-changing—forming a unique general’s march.

A general indeed!

Nurtured by battle, breaking through realms, he had now risen out of the lower ranks, standing among the higher tiers of the billions of cultivators in the primordial world. Once he unified the five springs into a single seamless cycle, he would step into the rank of Commander, a true powerhouse.

Judging the time, he reckoned his younger sister and the child still had lessons for a while yet. Rising, Dugu Bieli headed toward the storeroom.

Aside from a single room above, the storeroom’s main structure was underground. From the outset, its builders had longevity in mind; the walls were made of bluestone, enough to resist the ravages of time. Embedded along the stone walls at regular intervals were many luminous pearls, casting a hazy glow throughout the chamber.

Piles of ore lay scattered in disorder. Dugu Bieli could not even name most of them. Embarrassed, he glanced around, then lowered his head and exited.

His lack of knowledge was frustrating; even with the inheritance and the memories and body of Zang Li, he was at a standstill. Ultimately, Zang Li had been an ordinary man, whose memories contained little more than travel anecdotes. The legacy itself was mostly comprised of cultivation techniques and a few experiences, offering nothing to improve his discernment.

Still, there might be a way to compensate.

Entering the library, Dugu Bieli saw the nearest set of shelves labeled in large script: Miscellany. Each following shelf was categorized: Geography, Customs, Local Lore, Ore Compendium, and so forth.

Noticing the Ore Compendium, his eyes brightened. But now was not the time to browse; organizing came first.

The library was in complete disarray; to set it all right would take ages, far too much for a single day. Lacking the desire to fix everything, Dugu Bieli focused on tidying the shelves around the Miscellany section, sorting and categorizing as he went.

By the time he was mostly finished, he was drenched in sweat.

After a short rest, he fetched the beast-hide scrolls, unrolling them one by one and beginning to read. He soon realized his memory, comprehension, and analytical abilities had all grown tremendously; he was now nearly able to memorize at a glance. Knowledge of the shapes, colors, and textures of various ores, as well as a wealth of anecdotes and local customs, all settled into his mind. He was like a sponge, parched for years, suddenly plunged into a river, greedily and wildly absorbing, swelling with knowledge.

Among the miscellaneous records, there were some other treatises, including one on weapons. At first, he paid it little heed, but after a casual glance, he was instantly drawn in. The treatise described in detail the ranks and uses of weapons, finally informing him that, in battle, aside from fists and body, even the martial artists of the primordial world relied on weapons for support. Ordinary weapons were only sharp tools suitable for warriors, but for those at higher realms, they became burdens.

There were several grades above ordinary weapons. One such grade was the Soldier’s Armament, which allowed Heroes, Generals, and Commanders to double their power, making it extremely versatile. The finest of these could even be wielded by elite Walkers.

Above the Soldier’s Armament was the Soul Weapon. These were nearly impossible for ordinary forgemasters to craft; they required the souls of starbeasts merged with refined ore essence. Only master-level forgemasters could hope to succeed—anyone else risked catastrophic explosions and death.

Soul Weapons were exceedingly rare compared to Soldier’s Armaments, but their effects justified their rarity. Even the weakest Soul Weapon matched a Soldier’s Armament, while the best could double or triple one’s strength. The precise effect depended on the strength of the starbeast’s soul, the grade of the ore essence, and so forth.

A fine Soul Weapon could establish a family lineage and serve as its ancestral treasure.

Above that was the King’s Armament.

King’s Armaments were almost always forged by the King themselves, accompanying them from their weakest days to the pinnacle of their reign, nurtured with blood and fused with spirit throughout. Such “weapons” were few in all the primordial world, likely only a few hundred existed.

King’s Armaments were tremendously powerful, letting a King unleash battle power four times their own—terrifying indeed. If a King without such a weapon faced a foe who possessed one, their only choice was to flee—flee as far as possible.

Above even the King’s Armament was yet another tier: the Divine Demon Weapon, said to be relics left from the gods and demons who fell in the ancient wars. Each such weapon was bound to its owner, capable of unleashing battle power five times its wielder’s—a peerless instrument of slaughter.

These weapons could be considered the utmost pinnacle.

Yet above even them was another, loftier level!

In the legends of the current age, there were two weapons more powerful than even the Divine Demon Weapons: the Demon-Slaying Sword and the God-Killing Blade.

The record on the beast hide ended here, seemingly incomplete.

Dugu Bieli was just getting absorbed when the text abruptly broke off, leaving him annoyed. His curiosity piqued, he searched through the library, and after a long hunt, finally found a half-torn piece of beast hide with a passage about those two weapons.

It was said that in primordial times, the gods and demons vied for supremacy, locked in endless slaughter. Divine and demonic weapons countered each other, neither side prevailing. Eventually, the God-Emperor and Demon-Emperor emerged and began forging the ultimate racial weapons, using the blood of all their kin, all the rules and laws they commanded, and their supreme will. After being baptized by the Dao of Heaven and Earth, the ultimate weapons were born.

Legend held that with the Demon-Slaying Sword in hand, all demons would fall; with the God-Killing Blade, the reverse was true as well.

It was surmised that these two weapons allowed their wielders to unleash power seven times their own—a truly earth-shaking might.

…

At the end of the beast hide, it was noted that the God-Killing Blade was said to reside in the Primordial World, with some having glimpsed it in ancient times. So it did indeed exist.

Dugu Bieli wanted to read further, but the rest was missing; try as he might, he found nothing more and had to give up in frustration.

Despite all he had read, he felt little fatigue. Rising, stretching a bit, he left the library and returned to the storeroom.

This time, he finally smiled with satisfaction.

Dusting gently, he revealed a blue stone shaped like a star; he knew this was a piece of Nebula Ore, native to the Star River World, water-attributed, and of such quality that its interior shimmered with splendid, river-like patterns.

Nearby were Blackwood Ore, Greenleaf Stone, and others.

Dugu Bieli identified them one by one, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. “The inheritance includes the Art of Weapon Shaping. Here before me lies a trove of ores. All I need do is cultivate, and I can refine and forge weapons... This is an opportunity not to be missed; it will be hard to find so much ore to practice on in the future…”

Having made up his mind, Dugu Bieli quickly recalled and searched his memory, finding the core precepts of the Art of Weapon Shaping.

This art was unique, unlike the popular forging methods of the day; it was a secret technique created by a mysterious figure. By cultivating it, one could forge sharp weapons with ore and spirit alone, without any need for hammer, furnace, or other tools—everything was replaced by spiritual force.

“In that case, I can also temper my spirit,” Dugu Bieli mused approvingly. Seeing he had ample time, he sat down, calmed his mind, and began the first step of cultivation.

The Art of Weapon Shaping began with refining one’s consciousness to clarity, achieving unity with heaven and man, banishing all stray thoughts, and then comprehending the essence and meaning of weapons. For instance, the blade was king among weapons, embodying ferocity and sharpness; the sword, by contrast, stood for keenness and agility; the spear, for dominance and sweeping force.

Each weapon had its own significance; only by grasping its essence and simulating it with a clear mind could one proceed to the third step: purification, extracting the essence from the ore and discarding the useless impurities.

The final step was to forge the weapon itself.

Dugu Bieli’s spirit was strong—stronger than he had imagined. Upon reflection, he realized it must be the fusion of Zang Li’s consciousness, the mysterious master’s legacy, and his own will that had given him such a solid foundation.

His spiritual strength was beyond even that of a Commander.

After a period of refinement, his spirit, entwined with consciousness, circled endlessly in his sea of mind, finally discerning a pattern. It then extended from between his brows as invisible tendrils, reaching outward. Only when they extended about three meters did he begin to feel strain.

Within that distance, his spiritual tendrils could even wipe dust from the surface of ore. He tried to pick up a piece of ore, but failed miserably—the ore didn’t budge, but his mind felt as if struck by a sledgehammer, blood trickling from nose and mouth.

Recognizing his foundation was still shallow, Dugu Bieli resigned himself to steady, gradual cultivation.

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