A Farmer's Journey To Immortality

The Spirit essence in the air—thin and scattered a moment ago—suddenly began moving.

It was as if something unseen had activated, pulling every bit of elemental energy toward one spot.

Yaksha's eyes narrowed. "What… what is this?"

A glowing Essence Equation Diagram appeared over the massive sealed doors of the treasury hall. Its runes flickered with golden light, complex runes pulsing with power.

In the next moment, the array lit up completely.

Whirrrr!

All the gathered Spirit essence was pulled toward the center of the diagram. And then—

Bang!

A massive 3rd Order beam of fire-element energy burst out of the Array Eye. It was bright, scorching, and impossibly fast. The beam shot straight at Yaksha Lord.

"Shit!"

Yaksha's face twisted in panic. He activated his movement-type Spirit spell without thinking, vanishing just in time. The fire beam missed him by a hair's breadth, but he could feel the heat brushing against his robe, burning the edge of it.

He reappeared a good distance away, gasping slightly. A single second late and he would've been turned to ash.

Yaksha's heart pounded as he stared at the now dimmed diagram over the treasury hall.

"That thing… it just attacked me," he muttered, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "Did I trigger the treasury's defense mechanism?"

His gaze moved toward Frostbound Lord, who was still near the sealed door.

"Tch. Why only me? Is it because of my actions? This place definitely has a Guardian Spirit then. That… that also means I can't go near him anymore. The treasury hall's defenses won't let anyone interfere while he's close."

Yaksha Lord gritted his teeth, frustration building up inside him.

"No matter," he said through clenched jaws. "I still have that old man Blackblood's heart."

His eyes gleamed with ambition.

"My unification plan would become harder if Nael escapes. But I'll just make sure he can't move too freely. He'll have two choices—either join hands with me or face the wrath of all remaining Lords alone."

Yaksha raised his hand and vanished again, his body turning into a shadowy blur. He needed to prepare.

The heart of a Core Formation Lord was a rare and powerful demonic sacrifice for Yaksha. Using it, he had just under a fifty percent chance of escaping Holy Land Torel. And compared to the hopeless odds he had faced before, this was almost a miracle.

He had waited too long to back down now. As he moved through the ruins, Yaksha Lord's eyes glinted with cold calculation.

Frostbound Lord might be strong. But he had too many weaknesses.

A missing wife. A fragile daughter.

Plus, leaving Holy Land Torel might was not that simple.

If Nael managed to escape Torel… Yaksha would be waiting with the perfect bait.

***

Frostbound Lord let out a slow, shaky breath as he watched Yaksha Lord disappear into the distance.

His Spirit Sense confirmed it—Yaksha had fully retreated. The pressure in the air finally lifted.

"Haah! He's gone," Nael Netherfrost whispered to himself, the tension in his chest easing slightly.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before standing up with difficulty. His legs were heavy. His body felt like it had been frozen in time and cracked apart.

But he forced himself to stay steady. With effort, he circulated his 3rd Order Spirit essence throughout his body, easing the fatigue and pain from the earlier ambush. Cool, icy energy flowed through him, helping him regain control over his limbs.

His gaze turned toward the motionless figure lying nearby.

The Blackblood Lord.

Slowly, step by step, Nael walked over and knelt beside the dying man.

"Old friend," he said softly, his voice filled with complex emotions.

Even though the Blackblood Lord's heart had been ripped out, he still clung to life. His body—refined and powerful after years of Core Formation cultivation—refused to die easily.

His golden Spirit Core, still active inside him, was trying to repair the damage, desperately pumping out healing energy. His defensive Spirit layer had collapsed, but even its fading fragments acted as a barrier, slowing the blood flow.

And his bloodline—blessed with vitality and strong life force—kept him from crossing over to death too soon.

But it wouldn't be enough. Not without a heart. He was dying.

And there was nothing Nael could do to stop that. But… perhaps he could delay the inevitable.

He clenched his fists.

Then, taking a deep breath, Frostbound Lord placed his palms over the gaping wound in the Blackblood Lord's chest. His eyes closed, and a cold, glowing mist began to rise from his arms.

Ice-element Spirit essence surged into the Blackblood Lord's broken body. The temperature dropped around them. Frost began to form on the stone beneath them.

Moments later, a faint glow appeared inside the Blackblood Lord's chest.

Thump… thump…

A heart. Made of pure, glass-like ice.

Created from Spirit essence. It was artificial, fragile, and temporary.

But… it worked.

The Blackblood Lord's body twitched. A few moments passed before he slowly opened his eyes, blinking at the faint sunlight peeking through the torn sky above.

His body felt cold. It was an unfamiliar feeling. But he was indeed alive.

He sat up slowly, instinctively placing a trembling hand over his chest. He could feel it—the beating of a heart, one not his own. He could also feel the rejection.

His body didn't like this foreign Spirit essence. The icy energy was powerful, but not compatible. His insides burned and froze at the same time. The heart was melting little by little, unstable and unnatural. The thing that was keeping him alive was also killing him at the same time.

Still, he was alive. For now.

One week, give or take.

That's all the time he had before his body rejected the heart fully… and death took him for good.

"…Nael," he muttered, looking at Frostbound Lord with mixed emotions.

The Frostbound Lord gave him a solemn nod. It was a kind of nod that one man gave to another when he did not have many words to offer.

The Blackblood Lord sat straighter, struggling through the pain. He bowed slightly with respect and gratitude.

"Thank you, old friend," he said softly. "I…. I owe you one."

But then, a bitter smile crept onto his face.

"Still… what should I do with this borrowed time? I doubt I'll be able to help you escape this cursed land in just one week."

He sighed heavily.

Nael didn't answer right away.

He looked up, about to speak—but then his eyes narrowed.

Tap. tap. Tap.

It was the sound of footsteps that drove away the silence.

Someone was coming, climbing up the platform.

Both Core Formation Lords turned their heads toward the base of the platform.

A young man was making his way up. His robes were plain. His Spirit essence accumulation was nothing too impressive in front of the Core Formation Lords—mid-stage Foundation Establishment at best. A weakling in this kind of place.

But there was something strange in his eyes—nervousness, yes. But also… determination.

The youth reached the top. He looked at both Lords, unsure how to act in front of such powerful beings. Still, he gathered his courage.

"Are you… perhaps… the Blackblood Lord and Frostbound Lord?" he asked with hesitation.

Both Lords stared at him, puzzled.

The youth took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Haitin Blackblood has sent me here to have a word with you," he said, this time looking directly at the Blackblood Lord.