Chapter 18: The Path of Transformation

“You must come up with a proper plan, or this isn’t over.” The Grand Principal stood before the stone table, both hands flailing as he bellowed, spittle flying in every direction. In one hand, he gripped a weapon, and then, with a swing, slashed at his other arm. His ornate robe was instantly torn open, revealing a gash in the flesh, deep as a finger’s width.

“Look! Just look at this weapon your weapons division, under your ever-watchful eye, has labored to forge. Tsk, tsk, it’s sharp enough, it actually managed to injure me—ah!” He placed the weapon on the table and brought his fist down hard. With a crisp snap, the weapon broke in two, the sound echoing with a kind of painful wail. “Whatever the sharpness, at least it can injure, perhaps frighten an enemy for a moment… Fine, I’ll grant it passes in that regard. But look—one touch and it breaks! Look at it—raise your head and see for yourself. It’s a weapon, isn’t it? Shouldn’t it at least be somewhat sturdy?”

Wuying slumped over the table, his head buried in his arms like an ostrich, not daring to meet his superior’s gaze. The Grand Principal, beside himself with rage, let out a series of hoarse, anguished shouts, his white hair wild, writhing like serpents and dragons, smoke seeming to billow from his crown. “Fine, fine! So you’ll just deal with me this passively, is that it? Well then, I’ll go straight to the Queen and let her judge this matter!”

“No, that’s not it…” Wuying raised his weary head, his face streaked with what seemed to be the traces of tears. His aged, clouded eyes were fogged with distress as he muttered, dejected, “I truly did my best. The conditions—you know them as well as I do… Let’s put aside everything else and just talk about the weapon smiths. Right now, the weapons group has only four members, all novices at that. Forging ordinary weapons, no problem, but even the forging techniques rely mostly on their bare hands… In the vast world of the Primeval Realm, how many truly possess the skill to craft animated arms? And even then, their technique is only ‘Light Refining’… Yes, I know there are also ‘Water Refining’ and ‘Fire Refining’, but those are secrets held by the Celestials. How am I supposed to acquire them?”

Light Refining referred to forging weapons by harnessing the light of the ten suns. In the Primeval Realm, regardless of which domain, nearly all weapon smiths followed this mainstream path. Upon this foundation, each school developed its own secret techniques, but in truth, they were much the same—primitive and unremarkable.

Water Refining and Fire Refining, on the other hand, utilized the properties of water and fire to temper weapons. These methods were the exclusive secrets of the Celestials, absolute state secrets. In the wars between humans and Celestials, the latter had reaped no small advantage in weaponry thanks to these methods.

“So there’s truly no other way?” The Grand Principal’s tone softened, his mood sinking. He knew Wuying spoke the truth, but the frustration gnawed at him; he could not let go of the feeling that he’d let the Queen’s hopes down.

Wuying sighed, his frame growing even more hunched, nearly disappearing beneath the table. “I’ve heard rumors of another, a special forging method called ‘Divine Refining’, but I’ve never seen it, nor heard of anyone who can do it. I can’t even say for certain if it truly exists…”

“Divine Refining?” the Grand Principal echoed, puzzled. “What sort of technique is that? How come you’ve never mentioned it before?”

“They say it’s a unique method driven by the weapon smith’s own spirit. But whether it truly exists, I can’t verify. How could I dare speak of it? If you pressed me to seek it out, I might well end up buried in some desolate wasteland…” Wuying looked up helplessly, meeting the Grand Principal’s thoughtful gaze, and couldn’t help but shudder.

The Grand Principal pondered, his eyes growing ever brighter, fixing on Wuying with a burning intensity.

“No, please…” Wuying clutched at his sparse white hair, cursing his own loose tongue.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Just then a voice came from the doorway. Su Xiruo entered, curiosity written all over her face. Seeing the Grand Principal, she quickly offered a sweet smile. “Uncle, you’re here. Were you scolding my uncle again?”

“No, not at all, Xiruo. You mustn’t listen to your uncle’s one-sided stories and let him tarnish my image,” the Grand Principal protested, his fiery temper vanishing in an instant, his face all doting affection.

“Hehe, I knew you were the kindest old man, never bullying my uncle.” Su Xiruo’s arrival instantly softened the atmosphere, the tension dissipating.

Wuying, at last, breathed a sigh of relief. Timing is everything, he thought. Xiruo was the Grand Principal’s natural nemesis—so long as she was present, there was nothing to fear. But the next moment, recalling something urgent, he quickly stood and asked, “Well, did he say anything? Is there any hope for a cure?”

“Oh, that…” Su Xiruo hesitated, a blush blooming on her cheeks like peach blossoms, a hint of charm in her brows. Wuying pressed again, his tone anxious, prompting her to stammer, “I just brought him a basket of fruit, and then… then I came back…”

“What?” Wuying’s mouth fell open, baring his teeth. “You didn’t ask?”

“I was too embarrassed.” Su Xiruo’s voice was barely audible, like a mosquito’s buzz. Her head dropped, her hat fell off, and her long, silky hair cascaded down her back, nearly to her waist.

“I see… ah… well, it was my oversight.” Wuying tried several tones in quick succession, then, seeing that waterfall of hair, realization dawned. “It’s my fault for not thinking things through. Never mind, I’ll go ask myself in a moment.”

“Ask what?” the Grand Principal asked, puzzled, glancing from Wuying to Su Xiruo.

“It’s like this: I’ve found someone who might be able to cure Xiruo’s ailment.” Wuying briefly described Du Gu Bieli and his unique technique of absorbing others’ strength.

The Grand Principal nodded, delighted. “Then why hesitate? Go at once—there’s no time to lose. I’ll go with you.”

“Well…” Wuying hesitated, recalling that he’d only just banished Du Gu Bieli to the Forbidden Zone. “Let’s see what he’s doing first. It’s not too late to approach him afterwards. You see, I just punished him and sent him to the Forbidden Zone to tidy up the library and storerooms. It’s a tiring, thankless task—he’s probably not in the best mood right now…”

“Oh, then let’s wait… What? What did you say?” The Grand Principal suddenly jolted, exclaiming, “You sent him to the Forbidden Zone? Do you mean you’re planning to reopen the library and storerooms?”

“No,” Wuying answered wryly, “I only did it because that scoundrel Lenglian forced my hand. If I ever intended to reopen the library and storerooms, I’d have to report to the Queen first.”

“A shame,” the Grand Principal sighed. He knew the story well—it was because of that very affair that the Queen had promoted him to Grand Principal of the Butterfly Academy; there was a certain fate in it.

Yet Wuying’s long-standing worry was Su Xiruo’s illness. Anxious, he paced behind the table, muttering to himself. After a while, he frowned and said to Su Xiruo, “Here’s what you should do: go yourself and explain your condition to him, whether he agrees to help or not. At least he’ll know what you’re suffering from. Even if he refuses, you still have your uncle and me—there’s always hope, never despair.”

“Good idea,” the Grand Principal concurred, forgetting his original errand, throwing himself into planning for Su Xiruo.

“Go again?” Su Xiruo’s face fell, her lips pursed, nose wrinkled, her tone plaintive. “I just brought him food—what excuse do I have now? It’s so embarrassing.”

“Yes, it is awkward,” the Grand Principal agreed, putting himself in her shoes. Wuying scratched his head. “Well, let’s see what that fellow’s up to. If he’s free, you can go. If he’s busy cleaning… ah, that’s it! He’s probably cleaning the library and storerooms—he’ll be busy for days. Xiruo, don’t be afraid of a little hardship. Go help him; maybe you’ll win some goodwill, and it’ll be easier to talk in the future.”

Grateful for the two old men’s concern, Xiruo mustered her courage, nodded her agreement, and left, heading straight for the Forbidden Zone.

The Grand Principal seemed concerned, about to speak, but Wuying interjected, “Let’s see what he’s doing first.”

With that, he traced a line in the air with his finger, casting a spell that conjured a watery screen before them, reflecting an area several yards wide—the storeroom!

“He’s actually sitting and resting.” Wuying’s beard bristled as he glared and made a fist. “Didn’t expect him to be this lazy.”

“No, wait—look, something’s off,” the Grand Principal said, more attentive to Su Xiruo’s affairs than Wuying. He stared at the watery screen, then cried, “Look! What’s he doing?”

Wuying peered closer. In the scene, Du Gu Bieli sat motionless as a clay statue, while three or five pieces of ore floated around him, swaying as if about to fall, yet held up by invisible hands. “Nothing special—just stronger mental power than the average cultivator, able to manipulate small objects nearby. At a certain level, most can do this… Wait.”

At that moment, Du Gu Bieli’s eyes snapped open, two beams of light flashing like lightning. He leapt up, arms spread, then closed his eyes again, maintaining that strange pose.

Then, the miracle happened.

The ores began to tremble, as if someone acclimated to warmth had been plunged into an icy world. A faint vibration hummed from within each stone.

Wuying quickly tapped the watery screen and gestured; the image expanded, every detail clear enough to see the fine hairs on Du Gu Bieli’s face. The Grand Principal, too, began to shake as if frozen, his eyes wide and unblinking.

The stones, as if suddenly alive, swayed gracefully, elegant as dancers in feathered gowns—yet their forms began to shrink, growing thinner as stone dust spattered and fell away.

Hard, unyielding ores, difficult to refine, were dissolving before their eyes, their impurities cast off, leaving behind tiny, pure grains that slowly coalesced into a lump of pure essence under invisible forces.

What had once been dull, dark stone now shone with a black luster, like stars flickering in the night—magnificent and mesmerizing.

The Grand Principal’s eyes were transfixed, unable to look away, his voice trembling with awe. “Is this… that Divine Refining you mentioned?”

Wuying’s mouth hung open, like a fish cast up on the shore, his eyes bulging. He stared in a daze, tears rolling down his cheeks as he murmured, “Yes, this must be it. My old friend, we are about to rise to greatness…”