From Ordinary Axe to Godly Artifact – Dominating the World

As the dim glow of torches flickered within Yun Hao’s small, secluded dwelling, he sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, his breathing slow and deliberate. The Blood Shadow Sect’s Outer Disciple Battle was just hours away, set to commence with the break of dawn. This was the moment he had long dreaded, yet now, with the sentient axe by his side, he welcomed it with anticipation rather than fear.

The night outside was eerily silent, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath in anticipation of the bloodshed to come. Yun Hao’s fingers traced the axe’s dark blade, feeling the pulsating energy within it. Ever since his first kill, the weapon had become more than just a tool—it was an extension of himself. Its whispers were no longer just commands but a guiding force, urging him toward a path he had never dared to tread before.

“You must be prepared,” the axe murmured within his mind, its voice now almost soothing. “Tomorrow, blood will flow, and power will be seized. If you hesitate, you will be nothing more than another forgotten name among the fallen.”

Yun Hao clenched his fists, inhaling sharply. He had already come so far, from a beaten-down weakling to someone who had tasted true strength. There was no turning back now.

With newfound resolve, Yun Hao resumed his cultivation. His body still throbbed from the enhancements gained from absorbing Wei Long’s Qi, but he knew it wasn’t enough. The battle tomorrow wouldn’t be against mere outer disciples; it would be against the wolves of the sect, each hungry for power, eager to climb the ranks by trampling over the weak.

Closing his eyes, he activated Blood Shadow Breathing, a technique he had stolen glimpses of from the sect’s inner library. It was incomplete, but with the axe’s influence, he had begun reconstructing it within his mind. As he drew in Qi, a crimson haze began to swirl around his body, the absorbed essence of his victims intertwining with his own.

His meridians stretched and widened, greedily devouring the energy. The sensation was excruciating, but Yun Hao bit down on his lip to silence his pain. The axe had taught him something valuable—strength was built upon suffering, and the greater the pain, the greater the reward.

Hours passed, the moon sinking lower in the sky. His cultivation base had subtly shifted, teetering at the edge of Qi Condensation Stage Level 5, a vast improvement from his former pitiful state. He exhaled deeply, steam rising from his skin as the impurities within his body were purged. He was ready.

Unbeknownst to Yun Hao, in the shadows beyond his dwelling, a pair of cold, calculating eyes watched him. A figure clad in dark robes stood atop a nearby rooftop, arms crossed, a smirk playing on their lips.

“So, the trash finally decided to crawl out of the dirt,” the voice was a whisper carried by the wind. “This will be interesting.”

The figure vanished into the night, leaving behind only the lingering scent of blood.

Yun Hao spent the remaining hours of the night testing his control over his newfound strength. He swung the axe in slow, deliberate arcs, feeling the power coursing through his veins. Each movement was sharper, more refined than before. He could feel the raw killing intent within him sharpening, turning into something honed and precise.

The axe hummed in approval. “Good. But remember, true strength does not lie in blind rage. It is the cold, calculated strike that ends a battle before it begins.”

Yun Hao nodded. He understood. Tomorrow was not about proving himself to others—it was about survival. He had to be efficient. Every move had to count. No wasted energy, no reckless bravado.

He reinforced his mind with Shadowed Mind Clarity, another secret technique he had memorized in passing. It allowed him to suppress fear and hesitation, sharpening his focus in battle. By the time the sky began to brighten with the first light of dawn, he felt different. He was no longer the same discarded outer disciple from days ago.

He was something more.

The tension in the air was palpable. Yun Hao watched as groups of disciples whispered among themselves, some sizing up their opponents, others exuding quiet confidence. He caught a few glances thrown his way—some mocking, others indifferent.

But he also noticed something else. Fear.

Some had heard the rumors. That Wei Long had vanished. That something had changed in the once-weak Yun Hao. He smirked inwardly. Let them wonder.

A gong rang through the sect, silencing all murmurs. A senior disciple stepped forward, his expression stern. “Outer Disciples, prepare yourselves! The battle begins soon!”

Yun Hao gripped the axe tightly, feeling its hunger echo his own.

Tomorrow had arrived.

And blood would be spilled.