"Well, off the top of my head, I can only think of three ways. There may be others who could add more, or their ideas might match up with mine," Yi Jie said, his eyes still fixed on the saber.
Wen Yingjie's eyes lit up with excitement at the response. There was a chance, and not just one, but three.
"The first option would be to trade the weapon for another that's already shown signs of spirit awakening. Since you're not an experienced blacksmith or a palace-stage cultivator who, even without smithing skills, is still able to use their spiritual sense to detect budding spirits, I'd recommend conducting the trade through a reputable organization. Naturally, I hope the Order would be your first consideration.
If you choose us, I'd be more than willing to handle the trade myself—with Judge Yang Qing or another judge, plus a third party of your choosing, acting as witnesses to the deal," Yi Jie patiently explained as he looked up just in time to see Wen Yingjie's budding smile freeze halfway.
"And the other two options?" Wen Yingjie asked stiffly.
Option one would've worked if he hadn't known his saber had already partially awakened. With that option, he'd have to wait a long time for the new saber to awaken fully... or worse, if his streak of luck continued and he ended up in areas where cultivators were breaking through, wouldn't the new saber end up just like the old one?
But at the heart of it, the real reason was that Wen Yingjie was simply averse to the idea of swapping out his saber. He had literally poured blood and sweat into sourcing the materials for it. That sacrifice made it feel like a part of him, as though it were his child that he had reared. Even if the new saber had better craftsmanship, it just wouldn't feel the same, kind of like how kids never wanted to part with the wooden sword they started cultivating with, no matter how beat up it got.
Wen Yingjie felt exactly the same.
If the saber didn't invoke lightning, he wouldn't have even considered trading it, not even for a better-crafted weapon.
Yi Jie, as if reading his thoughts, smoothly continued:
"The second option is to seal your saber in dark lunar ice—preferably one that's at least 10,000 years old. You'll need to keep it sealed for at least ten years, though the older the ice, the shorter the time required. The ice will force your saber's pseudo-spirit into deep slumber, calming its current agitated state before it ends up drawing a real tribulation on itself.
Sealing it will suppress that temptation by slowly smothering those urges till finally it forgets them. Like using water to douse a fire. But this method comes with its downsides.
First, there will be no qualitative change to the saber's spirit during that time. It won't suddenly evolve from a pseudo spirit to a complete spirit. The state you seal it in is the same state it will be in when the sealing period ends.
The other issue is .... because of how the dark lunar ice works and how invasive its subduing attributes are, even after the sealing period ends, and you remove your saber from it, it will still take a significant period of time to fully wake up from those effects.
The effort and time you'll need to invest to fully wake it up from the dark lunar ice's effects won't be much different from awakening a brand-new weapon."
Yi Jie paused briefly before adding, almost offhandedly,
"Then there's the last option. It's the simplest, but also the deadliest. Just risk your life with it."
He even shrugged as he said it, wearing a nonchalant look, like the topic of risking one's life carried as much weight as talking about the weather, or deciding whether to pee before a long journey.
"Risk my life?" Wen Yingjie asked, his expression blank.
He looked like a man at the end of his rope. From the moment Yi Jie mentioned the first option, he'd already suspected the rest wouldn't be much better. But still, some part of him had clung to a sliver of hope—that in between those gut-wrenching, spirit-breaking, wish-I-didn't-ask choices, there'd be at least one that felt doable.
And yet, here he was, being told that even the simplest option involved putting his life on the line.
He was too afraid to ask how.
As for the other two options, the first was suddenly looking like a bed of roses instead of the bed of thorns he'd seen before. Option two? He didn't know how much a block of dark lunar ice cost, but with spirit-sealing capabilities like that, he was sure it had to be expensive, which was likely to be far beyond what a rogue peak core formation expert like him could afford.
Then there was the part about the saber possibly not awakening for years.With his legendary streak of luck, he had a sinking feeling that for him, it'd likely take centuries. If he had that kind of time, he wouldn't have come to the Order. He'd have just waited patiently for Tan Ping to emerge from seclusion.
"It seems like my hope of washing away the stain on my honor is now turning into an impossibility with how things are panning out," he muttered to himself.
His broad shoulders, once proud and steady, seemed to slump inwards like the curvature of a bow, as his spirits dropped.
"Wen Yingjie," Yi Jie said gently, "if it were anyone else, I wouldn't have suggested the third option. But for you... I think it's the best one."
"I don't know what you need it for, but from what you said earlier, and the desperate yet determined look on your face... all these seem to suggest that you need it for something important, but likely just as dangerous too... dangerous to the point that you believe you might not make it out.
Am I right in assuming so?" Yi Jie asked.
"Yes, it is," Wen Yingjie said firmly, clenching his fists as a fierce light ignited in his eyes.
His eyes burned with a fire that almost resembled those of vengeance, yet, if one looked close, they'd realize it was purer than that. Those flames had a nobility to them, a nobility born out of the unwavering resolve of duty. Wen Yingjie's eyes seemed to say that no matter what came his way, the task would be done. It was a look Yi Jie was intimately familiar with, and he wasn't the only one in the courtroom who was.
Any seasoned inquisitor or judge would recognize that look. It was the look they themselves developed the longer they served. That deepening sense of obligation that grew with every case they handled, as they slowly realized the weight of each of those cases. Wen Yingjie wore that same expression.
Yi Jie, Yang Qing, and the others felt that the matter likely involved Wen Yingjie's Kingdom and the surrounding reasons behind his exile. Neither Yi Jie nor Yang Qing had any intention of prying, though. Those were Wen Yingjie's personal matters. But if Wen Yingjie chose to share, neither would mind listening and offering their two cents.
Still, from both his words and his demeanor, it was clear that he wasn't the type to say more than necessary, especially when it came to royal affairs. Given his background as a former general and having come from a military family, guarding his words was likely something that would have been drilled into him from the womb.
Someone like that would definitely be mindful of what he shares, likely keeping things at the bare minimum of what is necessary.
Mao Yunru fidgeted, her gaze fixed on Wen Yingjie with a calculating look. Her lips parted and closed, over and over, as if she were locked in a silent debate, unsure whether to ask the question gnawing at her.
Yang Qing caught it all and shook his head.
Looks like Mao Mao's nosy nature is flaring up again. With such a juicy story in front of her, I'm surprised she's lasted this long. Sometimes I really wonder what her real motivations are for becoming a judge…
He turned his gaze back to Wen Yingjie.
As if sensing something amiss, Mao Yunru suddenly snapped her head to the side—just a second too late to catch Yang Qing's judgy stare.
"Then, if you've already resolved to risk your life for whatever it is, the third option is definitely for you.
You may have heard of natal-bound artifacts, but just in case you haven't, they're artifacts bound to someone from birth. A part of the child's soul nourishes the artifact, and in return, the artifact nourishes the child. Most powerful noble families and clans use this method to protect their most gifted seeds. For the best results, the artifact needs to be at least in the ascendant state, which, as you well know, has the power equivalent of a domain-level expert.
Once the binding is complete, the artifact becomes inseparable from the child. Any attempt to part them is met with swift retaliation, and upon the owner's death, the artifact is destroyed too. Their lives are literally tied together. Whatever happens to one affects the other, and not just in danger, but also in cultivation. From the moment the bond is formed, if the child is bound to an ascendant grade artifact, they gain insights into the pathway of the domain realm.
With enough time and resources, they can reach that level with little to no bottlenecks, as many detours are removed entirely.
But there are risks. Though to some, given what a bound artifact offers, they may not consider it a risk.
The risk in question is that the person bound to the artifact becomes heavily influenced by the artifact's dao. They never get the chance to explore what dao truly suits them, because that choice is already made for them the moment their soul binds to the artifact.
If they're not naturally aligned with the artifact's dao, they usually cap at the same level as the artifact, and sometimes do not even reach it, if the compatibility is bad. But for those with decent compatibility and good talent, their peak becomes that of the artifact, with their only chance of exceeding that limit being on the artifact evolving in grade.
Of course, like all things, that rule isn't set in stone," Yi Jie said.
"There have been those gifted enough to shatter that limit and reach realms beyond their natal artifact. Such stories are rare… but they exist," he added, as one particular case came to mind.
The case in question was the clan leader of the Cui clan, a rank-one clan. He had been bound to an ascendant-grade artifact at birth, but later managed to break past that ceiling, stepping into the soul formation realm. When he did, his bound artifact ascended with him, transforming into a saint-grade artifact.
"The reason I bring this up is because the third option involves doing something similar. You'll bind half of your soul and spiritual essence to your saber's pseudo-spirit.
I can already tell you've touched upon saber intent," Yi Jie began as he narrowed his eyes slightly while examining the former general.
"You'll continue feeding that intent to the pseudo-spirit, nurturing and tempering it until it can release a sliver of that intent on its own. Since your saber's spirit is still immature and incomplete, your spiritual essence and intent will help fill in the gaps it has and, as a byproduct, strengthen its foundation and hasten its growth," he continued.
"However, I have to warn you of something," Yi Jie said as the air around him turned heavy and solemn.
"Losing half your soul and spiritual essence will be one of the most painful things you'll ever endure," he began. "Other than the pain, using this option will leave your body weakened and your potential hollowed out, and recovery from the damage it will do to you will be an uphill battle bordering on impossible," he continued, piling on the heavy atmosphere.
"If only a small part of your soul was being used, then recovery, though still difficult, would still be doable, as you'd only need years of cultivating soul-nurturing techniques to mend it. But to lose half… you'd need rare treasures and soul-mending techniques of at least gold grade to even stand a chance," Yi Jie said, not mincing his words.
And from the way he looked, it was clear he wasn't done.
"Feeding your saber intent in that state will also be far more demanding, because on top of enduring that unimaginable pain and weakness, the task ahead of you will demand an astronomical level of concentration that even at your best state would be arduous.
A delicate and concentrated touch will be required as you feed your intent to your pseudo-saber spirit, taking great care not to harm it, given its fragile state.
This will demand finesse as you feed everything the pseudo spirit needs so it can build a sturdy foundation that will help it survive the tribulation that is to come.
From that point forward, its path will be shaped by you and all that you know," Yi Jie explained.
"However, it's not all bad," Yi Jie said as he switched tact, with the air lightening considerably. "If you successfully nurture your saber's pseudo-spirit to completion, it will automatically mend your incomplete soul and spiritual essence by sharing its complete essence and spirit with you. After all, your life will be one.
From that moment on, your life and the saber's will be inextricably linked. If it's destroyed during the tribulation, you'll die as well. But if it survives—and its spirit evolves through that baptism, your path to the palace realm will open. You'll reap the benefits of its spiritual growth. Whatever the saber gains, you gain. And whatever you gain, so will it. The good and the bad.
So, Wen Yingjie… are you willing to risk everything for this saber, to the very end—even if it means you might not make it out alive to finish what you set out to do? Or… do you want to reconsider the other options?" Yi Jie asked solemnly.