Living In Another World With A Farm Chapter 8455: Magic tool (1)

Previously on Living In Another World With A Farm...

Wen Liren and his allies rejoiced upon acquiring the rare Thousand Days Drunk Vanilla, a non-toxic herb ideal for subduing foes without detection, plotting to use it against Zhao Hai to extract the Ghostwind Bandits' treasure location. They tasked Feng Zhongxin with luring Zhao Hai out under the guise of a lucrative green vine harvesting mission, spiking the wine to render him unconscious off the island. As they ventured into a remote canyon, Feng offered the tainted brew, unaware that Zhao Hai, sensing the trap through his surveillance and the herb's faint aroma, drank it feigning ignorance while remaining unaffected by his spatial cultivation.

With a resounding explosion, the icy gale scattered, revealing Zhao Hai's form. Before him stood an elderly Daoist ensnared within a massive golden swastika seal. The Daoist's face twisted in agony. He stared at Zhao Hai in utter shock and uttered, "Power of belief? How can this be? You've not even attained the Island Lord level, so how do you possess power of belief? And such a thick concentration of it?"

Zhao Hai glanced at the nearby flag, where a clear tear marred its surface. The elderly Daoist remained confined in the Buddha seal. Without the faith power infused in his Dharma abilities, he might have faced peril. Zhao Hai hadn't anticipated the Daoist's such formidable strength.

The elderly Daoist served merely as a tool spirit. In truth, he wasn't even a full-fledged one. He couldn't harness the flag's complete might; otherwise, his prowess would have been far greater. Yet, even with the limited force he wielded, it proved immensely potent. Zhao Hai's all-out strike earlier failed to end him, merely binding him inside the Buddha seal.

Still, Zhao Hai had no intention of sparing him. This Daoist existed as a mere remnant soul, forged from deep-seated obsession. Subduing such a soul into the space would prove incredibly challenging for Zhao Hai. Even if successful, the obsession would fade away. With that gone, the Daoist's soul would likely vanish too. Ultimately, it would dissolve into basic soul energy, unable to form a dark soul. Thus, from the start, Zhao Hai never meant to draw him into the space. His plan was to eliminate him right there.

Zhao Hai felt no concern over potential damage to the flag. Repairs were possible. His spatial ring held endless resources. Even more vital, it brimmed with boundless Yin Qi and soul power, sufficient to mend the flag.

Turning his gaze from the flag, Zhao Hai faced the elderly Daoist. A smile crossed his lips as he spoke, "No need to fret over the source of my faith power. But since death approaches you now, share your final wish. If there's anything I can do to assist, I just might."

The elderly Daoist glared at Zhao Hai, his features contorted in rage. "No, I refuse to perish. I've uncovered a fresh path to immortality—how could I die? I shall live forever!" Madness seemed to grip him. Zhao Hai recognized the Daoist's obsession ran too profound. He resembled number one in that way, yet number one possessed a whole soul, while this was just a fragment. Zhao Hai couldn't aid him, no matter his desire.

With that realization, Zhao Hai let out a soft sigh. "Very well. I'll guide you toward reincarnation. What lingers in you is only a remnant soul. Refuse rebirth, and your true soul stays fractured, barring any future cycle. Let me complete it for you, enabling proper reincarnation." He formed a hand seal then, intoning the rebirth spell. The Buddha seal began to rotate gently. From within, the elderly Daoist's cries echoed sporadically as he struggled to shatter the confines. But the seal held firm, offering no escape. Suddenly, myriad golden rays burst from the seal. Runes materialized amid the glow, weaving into cords that lashed around the Daoist. He wailed in terror, to no avail. Finally, the runes dragged him deep into the seal, where both vanished.

Buzz! The sharp rip of fabric rang out. Zhao Hai spun to see fresh rips across the flag, leaving it ragged and on the verge of collapse. He sighed once more. With a flick of his wrist, he stored the flag in the space. First, he infused repair materials, then shifted it to the hell space for nurturing.

Truth be told, the elderly Daoist's diminished state tied closely to his flawed repair method for the flag. As a remnant soul, he couldn't incorporate fresh materials. Restoring a magic artifact demanded such additions. Though he enlisted the Ghostwind bandits for blood sacrifices, gathering aid from the Blood Wind Path for materials proved arduous. The flag's repair needs called for rare, high-grade items—even the Ghostwind bandits struggled to obtain them.

Thus, the elderly Daoist resorted to blood sacrifice and Yin Qi to gradually mend the flag. His approach resembled patching with Yin Qi as adhesive, forcing pieces together. Outwardly, it appeared fixed, but the core damage persisted. As a result, the flag couldn't unleash its full potential. Once a supreme artifact rivaling the God-killing blade, it now fell short even against an Island Lord level expert. The Daoist, as an incomplete Artifact Spirit, couldn't maximize its strength anyway. Combined with the weakened state, Zhao Hai had subdued it with relative ease.

Zhao Hai had already integrated the necessary materials into the flag for restoration. Now, it simply required immersion in the hell dimension. That realm overflowed with Yin energy and vast soul powers to feed it. Soon, the flag would reclaim its prime. Should Zhao Hai avoid battles and let it soak longer in hell, it might surpass its former glory.

Having settled the grand flag, Zhao Hai turned his attention to the cave. He soared inside next. His entry stemmed from sensing another energy within. Though not as mighty as the flag's, this presence held considerable force. What caught him off guard was its chilling sword Qi, laced with malice.

Upon stepping into the cave, Zhao Hai spotted a long sword embedded in the earth. Yet, the sight left him momentarily frozen. The blade struck him as odd. Despite being planted upright, its hilt nearly scraped the ground—the whole thing curved severely.

At once, Zhao Hai grasped it: this was a soft sword. The realization sparked mild astonishment in him. Cultivators seldom favored soft swords, given the challenge in wielding them. Their might didn't outstrip rigid long swords either. Hence, most cultivators shunned them.

Even so, Zhao Hai refused to underestimate this soft sword. A piercing sword intent emanated from it, sharp beyond measure. One glance told him its former wielder was a swordsmanship virtuoso. His mind raced, concluding the elderly Daoist must have owned it. As an elder of the Fierce Sword Sect, the Daoist's blade skills were undoubtedly exceptional. Such potent sword intent came as no surprise.

Now, with the Daoist's remnant soul gone, the sword intent stood unclaimed. The spiritual imprint he'd placed on the soft sword had fully eroded. Consequently, the weapon lay uncontrolled. Though its intent still blazed fiercely, absent a master, its effectiveness had plummeted.

Approaching the flexible sword, Zhao Hai felt a stinging ache across his skin—from the sword's intent alone. Should he abandon it here, he suspected the intent would soon fade entirely. Then, the sword would serve no purpose.

Every magic weapon required ongoing care. The Cold Wind Ghost Banner demanded it, as did this soft sword. Zhao Hai figured the elderly Daoist had positioned it deliberately. Deeper in the cave lay the Cold Wind Ghost Banner, with the sword guarding it like a sentinel.

As the soft sword's original master, the Daoist could command it effortlessly. Bound to the Yin Wind Ghost Flag, he stationed the sword for protection. Meanwhile, he siphoned Yin power from the flag to sustain the sword, preventing any decline in its vigor.

Why the Daoist, after his body perished, chose to possess the gravely wounded Yin Wind Ghost Flag over the soft sword puzzled Zhao Hai at first. He reasoned it was because the flag could draw in blood mist and Yin energy to bolster his soul, staving off dissipation. The soft sword, for all its power, offered no such sustenance—hence his choice of the ghost flag.

Reaching out, Zhao Hai seized the flexible sword. Instantly, a dark sword gleam erupted from it, lancing toward him. But Zhao Hai merely chuckled and gave it a shake. The sword quivered faintly, and the gleam vanished. No trace of sword light lingered; it became a plain, all-black flexible sword, utterly nondescript.

Nevertheless, Zhao Hai sensed the sword's intent remained vigorously potent. Now tamed under his will, it lay dormant within the blade. When the time came to wield it, the soft sword would unleash its full fury, delivering devastating power. Beyond that, Zhao Hai could nurture it further. Crafted from fine materials, proper care would amplify its strength immensely. With ample time ahead, this soft sword might evolve into a tool as enduring as a sect's defensive array. Like the God-slaying saber, though, it lacked an inner space—and needed none. It existed purely for slaying foes, a weapon of death.

Zhao Hai caressed the soft sword lightly, then flicked his wrist to send it into the space, straight to the hell dimension. He detected it craved Yin Qi nourishment. Once, it might not have, but the elderly Daoist's use of Yin Qi from the Yin Wind Ghost Flag had altered its nature. Now, Yin Qi suited it best. Thus, into the hell realm it went. Barring mishaps, both the flexible sword and the Sinister Wind Ghost Flag would serve as his future arms. After all, revealing the blood lotus in combat would betray his secrets.