High Martial: I Grind Professions

Chapter 297: Chapter 175: Reuniting with an Old Friend, the Saber Dao Is Forged

The Primordial Spirit avatar’s movements became incredibly focused and slow.

Strand after strand of Primordial Spirit power, as fine as hairs yet condensed to the absolute limit.

As if guided by an invisible, microscopically precise scalpel, it carved profound and unfathomable trajectories through the void-like sea of consciousness.

Each stroke was accompanied by an extreme concentration of his Divine Sense and a deep understanding of the rune’s true meaning.

The runic lines were not simple connections; they contained complex and profound fragments of Law, such as spatial folding, extreme energy transformation, and consciousness penetration.

The entire process was incredibly mentally taxing, more draining than any high-intensity battle.

Sweat beaded on the temples of Li Wen’s physical body, only to instantly evaporate.

Time ticked by, second by second.

From sketching the basic framework, to filling the energy circuits, to inscribing the core annihilation node... the seven-foot-tall Primordial Spirit avatar remained as steady as a rock, its movements possessing an almost chilling, precise beauty.

The surrounding Primordial Spirit power, like a surging Star River, continuously gathered at the avatar’s fingertips, transforming into one runic stroke after another.

About half an hour later.

The moment the Primordial Spirit avatar channeled the final wisp of its power and laid down the ultimate stroke at the core of the complex runic structure— ℯℯ𝑙.

CRACKLE!

The entire space of his sea of consciousness felt as if it were suddenly clenched tight by an invisible force, then just as abruptly released.

From the Shocking God Stab rune floating before the Primordial Spirit avatar, all the heart-stopping sharpness, the bone-chilling killing intent, the terrifying energy fluctuations... every trace of its outward aura instantly vanished.

A dark, deep luster, restrained to the absolute extreme, now flowed across its surface.

If one’s Divine Sense did not deliberately probe it, one might overlook its existence entirely, as if it were just a simple, unadorned piece of black jade floating quietly in the sea of consciousness.

A return to simplicity, its edge completely concealed.

This was the sign that the 7th Layer of the Shocking God Stab had been successfully inscribed.

It was also the key to its qualitative leap in power, allowing it to threaten even Marquis Level experts: extreme stealth combined with explosive force.

Though the Primordial Spirit avatar’s face showed exhaustion, the corners of its mouth couldn’t help but curve upward in an infinitesimally small arc.

He stretched out his hands in a moon-cradling gesture, took the dark rune—its basic inscription complete and its initial power formed, but still requiring time to be nurtured—and placed it in his mouth, where it ultimately sank into the core origin space within his body.

The nurturing had begun.

The Primordial Spirit avatar then entered a state of meditative stillness, beginning to slowly nourish and polish this newborn ”Stab” with its own origin Primordial Spirit power.

Each session of nurturing would forge a tighter connection with Li Wen’s Primordial Spirit, its power slowly increasing, until the moment the nurturing was complete, its edge fully internalized, and its might reached its absolute peak.

Li Wen, whose physical body was sitting cross-legged in the meditation chamber, slowly opened his eyes. A brilliant glint flashed within them before they returned to a state of profound peace.

Feeling the new core trump card gestating in the depths of his sea of consciousness, a solid sense of controlled power and shouldered responsibility rose in his heart.

The sunlight outside the window was already bright. A new day of guardianship and battle was about to begin once more on the magnificent front lines of Blue Star.

...

Time flowed by silently.

In the blink of an eye, it was December 28th, Year 233 of the Galactic Calendar.

Today was Li Wen’s 26th birthday.

On this special day, Li Wen had no intention of resting.

For over a year, with him holding the fort, Changning City’s defensive line had become impenetrable. Raids from the Demon Race had all but ceased.

This peace brought a continuous influx of people, making the fortress city increasingly crowded with individuals from all walks of life.

Li Wen knew that beneath the surface calm, undercurrents were surely swirling. This was the very reason for his daily patrols.

Aided by his Primordial Spirit perception—which had surged in power after his breakthrough to the Mid-stage Great Sun Realm and could now precisely cover a radius of over five kilometers—Li Wen was like an invisible net, combing through every corner of Changning City again and again.

The low-level spies of the lurking Shadow Organization could rarely escape this almost overwhelming scan.

Unfortunately, most of those he rooted out were marginal figures who knew little about the Shadow Organization’s core or the Demon Race’s movements. Some were even clueless as to who they were working for, making them of limited value.

The sky was a pale gray unique to winter, and the air was biting cold.

Li Wen’s Primordial Spirit consciousness, like invisible tentacles, swept over Changning City’s No. 1 Experimental Primary School.

The area around this widely recognized top-tier academy was bustling with traffic.

Just then, he ”saw” a familiar aura and image.

It was his high school Martial Dao initiation teacher and homeroom advisor, Wang Hu.

He hadn’t seen him in years. Wang Hu still had that same tough, hardy air about him, but his brow was now etched with the hardships of time.

He was holding the hand of a shy little girl, around six or seven years old, and standing in front of a portly, middle-aged man wearing a name tag that read ”Dean.”

Across the noisy streams of people and traffic, Li Wen clearly heard fragments of their conversation.

The dean’s smile was polite but distant, and he kept his voice low.

”...Mr. Wang, I understand your feelings, but resources... well, they’re limited. So many parents are fighting for a spot, the school has to take a comprehensive view. For enrollment slots alone, the waiting list is already full until the year after next... Of course, that’s not to say there aren’t... other options...”

That suggestive tone was all too familiar.

Wang Hu pressed his lips together. The fist at his side unconsciously clenched, then slowly relaxed.

His ordinary, dark-blue cotton jacket, the old-model smart-watch on his wrist, and the slightly awkward way he offered what looked like a very common local specialty—it all silently bespoke his circumstances.

Finally, he let out a nearly imperceptible sigh, pulled his daughter out of the crowd, and walked away. His retreating figure exuded an inexpressible dejection, and his steps were heavy.