Chapter Sixty-Three: The Spell Takes Shape

The bottom of the ship’s hold.

Second level of the ship’s cabin.

Inside a room, Ye Mo was still cultivating, deftly manipulating the Water Arrow Technique with his divine sense.

This elementary water-based spell, fueled by the mana within his body, could form a water arrow of tremendous power, capable of attacking targets up to ten zhang away. Upon impact, the chilling, yin-infused energy of the water arrow would invade the enemy’s body, slowing their movements.

“One thousand catties of destructive force!”

“If my opponent isn’t a cultivator, I might well be invincible!”

Ye Mo unleashed several Water Arrows.

In less than a quarter of an hour’s practice, a third of his mana had already been consumed.

No matter what, his spell had to succeed. There was only one chance to rebel and seize the ship; if he failed, the pirates’ purge of the captives would be merciless.

Ye Mo warned himself not to act rashly, but to master the control of the Water Arrow as swiftly as possible.

In fact, even without this spell, his “Wave Severing Technique” martial art remained usable, and its power increased with his strength. The Wave Severing Strike could break a force of a thousand catties—it was not much weaker than the Water Arrow Technique.

However, the Water Arrow had a far greater range, allowing him to kill distant foes with ease; manipulated by his divine sense, its flight was extraordinarily agile.

In comparison, the Wave Severing Technique could only threaten enemies within a zhang of him—beyond that, he was powerless.

“Whoosh!”

Ye Mo instantly released a Water Arrow, guiding it with precision as it circled within several zhang around him.

The arrow’s power was sufficient; the challenge was in controlling it with precision, so it didn’t miss its mark. No matter how powerful, missing the target would render it useless.

“My control grows more refined. I must possess a Water Spirit Root, or I wouldn’t be able to grasp this spell so easily,” Ye Mo mused.

Ancient texts on cultivation recorded much on the matter: the spiritual energy of heaven and earth was divided into five elements, three rarities, and one darkness—nine great types: metal, wood, water, fire, earth, ice, wind, thunder, and darkness.

Accordingly, each cultivator also possessed natural spiritual roots, known as innate spirit roots.

The elemental system of a cultivator’s spells corresponded directly to their spiritual roots.

Generally, cultivators chose to practice spells aligned with their own spirit root.

And in the process of cultivation, given equal effort, the higher a person’s innate spirit root, the greater their affinity and comprehension of that element’s magic, and the faster their progress.

A high-level spirit root was undoubtedly of great importance to a cultivator.

Of course, that didn’t mean those with superior spirit roots were guaranteed success. Many with exceptional talent fell before they could reach maturity, while some with average gifts persevered through hardship to survive to the end.

Moreover, if a cultivator was born into a powerful cultivation clan, even if their talent was mediocre, the abundant resources at their disposal could allow them to surpass ordinary cultivators.

The path to immortality was fraught with hardship, and fate was unpredictable.

A cultivator’s diligence, the supply of spiritual resources, fortuitous encounters—all these greatly influenced their prospects.

Those who could command immense resources and control their own fate in the world of cultivation were of only one kind: City Lord-level cultivators.

Only City Lord-level cultivators could rise above the millions, outfight all challengers, and become sovereigns, commanding countless followers.

But all this was far away; Ye Mo hadn’t had time to give it serious thought.

He guided the Water Arrow, sending it whistling toward a bronze mirror hanging nine zhang away on the wall.

“Crack!”

The Water Arrow pierced the center of the bronze mirror in an instant.

Though not yet fully mastered, his control of the Water Arrow’s direction was already fairly accurate. Moreover, the time required to cast the spell had greatly diminished; he wouldn’t be cut down by an enemy’s blade before he could finish casting.

“This Water Arrow Technique truly is formidable—driven by divine sense, it strikes in an instant! Thankfully, the young demon crab that once struck me with a water arrow had not yet matured, so its power was lacking. And the ancient painting shielded me from one arrow—otherwise I’d be nothing but bones now!”

Ye Mo was quite satisfied with the Water Arrow Technique, and he was grateful for having survived the demon crab’s attack.

If that arrow had packed a thousand catties of force, even with the ancient painting from the “Immortal Village” to shield him, he would likely have died vomiting blood from the impact.

“I have little mana left within me. I wonder how I can recover it,” Ye Mo muttered in frustration.

The spell consumed too much—after only fifteen or twenty minutes, more than half his mana was spent.

Would meditation restore it?

He feared he could only cast it a handful of times in a day.

If there was no way to quickly replenish his mana, most of his day would be spent meditating to recover, which would severely hinder his cultivation of spells.

Whether martial arts or spells, mastery was essential.

The more one trained, the more refined the technique became, and the greater the power. Otherwise, even a peerless secret art was useless if not practiced to proficiency.

But right now, spell cultivation was not the most urgent matter. There was a pressing issue demanding immediate action.

“My Water Arrow is now formidable. It’s time to deal with these pirates!”

Ye Mo sprang to his feet, left the room, crossed the second level of the cabin, and hurried toward the deck.

...

On the deck of the sea vessel.

The Five Clay Guards were locked in combat with the captives’ five top fighters: Gao Jian, Huang Yi, Mo Ling, Li Ruofeng, and Wu Niu.

Shipmaster Feng Xiongchang sat upon his throne, guzzling fine wine, his expression cold as he watched the Five Clay Guards battle the opponents, each at the late stage of martial cultivation. He showed not the slightest concern for his men.

The Five Clay Guards had been handpicked from youth and meticulously trained by great clans and mighty families. Each one was a top-tier expert, and their seamless teamwork made them the equal of peerless masters.

Even Feng himself, without his Golden Spirit Sword and Golden Armor, might not be a match for them together.

By contrast, their five adversaries were clearly a makeshift group, lacking true coordination.

The Five Clay Guards were already gaining the upper hand, pressing their foes relentlessly. Once the moment was right, they would slaughter all five.

Once the top experts among the captives were dead, no matter how many remained, they were nothing but a scattered rabble. Even if they were ten times braver, they would have no choice but to surrender.

“That white-robed swordsman and the woman in yellow—both possess high martial skill and perfect coordination. If they fought alone, each could take on three Clay Guards. It would be a waste to kill them outright. If I could make them serve me, my pirate ship’s strength would be greatly enhanced!”

Feng Xiongchang nodded to himself.

Among these hundreds of rebellious captives, only Gao Jian and Huang Yi—both at the peak of the eighth or ninth stage of body refinement—were worthy of his attention.

The rest, however numerous, were beneath his notice at his current level.

As for anyone worthy of his personal intervention, there was not a single one.