"Don't rush, don't rush. I'll make sure you die with a clear understanding."
The old Daoist with the ox nose smiled faintly before continuing.
"The Soul Arcana can be cultivated by anyone. It can make anyone stronger. But to achieve the best results, one must possess a perfect soul."
"Since the method of rebirth cannot grant a perfect soul, other means must be used to make up the difference."
"Only after bridging that gap and obtaining a true perfect soul can one formally cultivate the Soul Arcana, and only then will one achieve a perfect divine soul."
"And the method I discovered to bridge that gap is to find someone else whose soul is also close to perfection."
"Then, through a special tempering process, make their soul compatible with mine so that my soul can truly reach perfection."
"Only then can I truly begin cultivating the Soul Arcana."
At those words, the old Daoist with the ox nose turned his gaze toward Sima Xiangtu once more. His eyes did not look upon a man — they looked upon a meal.
"What I was cultivating was never the Soul Arcana. It was a trap you set."
"I was cultivating a tempering method, constantly tempering my own soul, gradually bringing it to the point where it could merge with yours."
"So all these years, I believed my cultivation was advancing, when in reality I was perfecting myself — until I became the tempering material you needed to obtain a perfect soul?" Sima Xiangtu's voice began to tremble.
This truth caused him excruciating pain.
All along, he had believed that he was manipulating the old Daoist with the ox nose like a puppet. But now he realized that the one being manipulated was himself.
And from the very beginning, he had already fallen into the trap.
"As expected of Xiangtu. Your comprehension is quite excellent."
"'Tempering material'? That's a remarkably fitting self-definition," the old Daoist said with a grin.
"You ox-nosed bastard! How could you be so despicable?"
"After all I did for you — I even called you a brother!"
"And this is how you repay me?!" Sima Xiangtu erupted in furious curses. He could hold back no longer.
He felt wronged, enraged, and utterly unwilling to accept this.
"Brother?"
Hearing that word, the old Daoist smiled faintly.
"I did approach you with an ulterior motive. That much is true."
"But if you had truly been a man who valued brotherhood, perhaps I would have found it hard to act against you."
"Yet you turned out to be so contemptible. I never treated you poorly, but behind my back you plotted against me again and again."
"When we first met, my conscience did bother me. But the more harm you secretly caused me, the happier I became."
"It was your shameless wickedness and innate evil that finally put my guilty conscience at ease."
"Let me put it this way, Xiangtu — your wickedness not only didn't harm me, but actually made me healthier than ever. I eat well, sleep like a baby every night, and wake up naturally feeling refreshed. You can't imagine how comfortable it is."
"Come now, Xiangtu, stand right there and don't move. Let me properly thank you. You might not get another chance later."
With those words, the old Daoist actually bowed to Sima Xiangtu in a gesture of gratitude.
Watching this, Sima Xiangtu's mouth twisted with fury, and killing intent blazed in his eyes.
"Zhuge Yuankong! You beast! I… I'm going to kill you!"
Sima Xiangtu roared, knowing full well he was no match for the old Daoist, yet charging at him nonetheless.
He unleashed every ounce of his strength and threw a devastating punch straight at the old Daoist.
But the old Daoist with the ox nose neither dodged nor deflected. He simply let the blow land.
BOOM—
The fist connected, yet the old Daoist was utterly unharmed. Not even the smile on his face faded by a single shade.
"AAARGH—"
On the contrary, it was Sima Xiangtu who grimaced in agony and stumbled backward, over and over again.
That full-power punch hadn't hurt the old Daoist at all. Instead, it had shattered Sima Xiangtu's own hand bones and completely destroyed his entire right arm.
"Don't be angry now. I actually did compensate you, you know."
"For instance, when you colluded with the Dao Enlightenment Sovereign to harm me — didn't I let you succeed? You must have been overjoyed at the time."
"Oh, and there was another time — not long ago when I came to capture you. To give you a little thrill, I deliberately lost to you, and you tortured me for quite a while."
"Yes, yes, yes! When you were torturing me, you were laughing so happily. Don't tell me you've forgotten?"
"Look, your life has been quite something, hasn't it? That was all my compensation to you."
The old Daoist spoke with a beaming grin.
But by now, Sima Xiangtu was weeping bitterly.
Every word the old Daoist said sounded like consolation on the surface, yet in reality each one was a poisoned needle piercing into his heart.
When he had plotted against the old Daoist, he had genuinely believed he had succeeded. He had truly been beside himself with elation.
Now he realized just how foolish he had been — nothing more than a monkey, spun around in circles by the old Daoist's amusement.
"Oh my, why the tears? You're not a young man anymore."
"Don't you find it embarrassing?"
"Here, wipe your eyes."
The old Daoist walked over to Sima Xiangtu, pulled out a handkerchief, and offered it to him.
Sima Xiangtu naturally refused to take it. Instead, he wept even harder, gasping between sobs, his body convulsing with grief.
He had always considered himself a man of ruthless ambition, a true tyrant. But the old Daoist's words had made him realize that he was nothing more than a joke.
All his pride, all his dignity — utterly and completely destroyed.