บททั้งหมดของ The Cultivator's Revenge: บทที่ 141 - บทที่ 150

Sylvan's final words echoed in the dim cave, each one heavier than stone. "Your body may have survived, but your soul… your soul has been shattered and torn from this vessel."Rayden, who had just managed to gather a sliver of his consciousness, stared at the forest guardian with a blank gaze. He could feel the truth in those words—a cold, alien emptiness at the center of his being—but his stubborn mind refused to accept it."Shattered?" he asked, his voice hoarse and barely audible. "What do you mean?"Sylvan didn't answer directly. With a slow movement, he picked up a beautiful, empty clay bowl from a nook in the cave wall. "Your Dantian," he said, his voice like rustling dry leaves now holding the tone of an ancient teacher. "Think of it as a priceless porcelain vase, forged by your talent, sweat, and hard work over many years."He held up the bowl, letting the green light from the moss play on its smooth surface. "Brahma Angkara," he continued, his glowing eyes staring sharply at

Sylvan, who had been observing from behind an ancient tree, stepped out of the shadows with a nearly invisible smile. His voice came not from a mouth, but echoed directly in Rayden's mind, as clear as a drop of dew falling on a leaf in the quiet of the morning."You can hear it now."Rayden didn't open his eyes. He remained seated under the thundering waterfall, his thin body no longer fighting it, but having found a harmony in its eternal rhythm. The gentle pulse he felt—the heartbeat of the forest—had now become an anchor for his scattered consciousness, a lighthouse in the middle of his internal sea of destruction."I can hear it," Rayden replied in his thoughts, a newfound tranquility coloring his tone. "But how? How can I reassemble a vase that has been shattered to dust, with no glue or strength to hold it?""You are mistaken," Sylvan answered. "You do not need strength to build. You need will. Strength is the hammer that shatters; will is the hand that shapes. Use the pure life

Rayden frowned, trying to understand the paradox in Sylvan's words. The old man he knew in the Village of Deities was one of the five most powerful beings he had ever met, someone whose wisdom felt as vast as the ocean. The idea that a figure so powerful could be running from something seemed impossible."Running from himself?" Rayden asked, his calm voice carrying an echo of sincere confusion. "What do you mean?"Sylvan sighed, a sound that seemed like the sigh of the forest itself. "To understand Master Kenanga," he said, "You must first understand the cage he built for himself: the Ashura Palace."The ancient forest guardian began to tell a story, his hoarse voice carrying Rayden across time, to the golden age of a shadow organization. He painted a picture of the Ashura Palace at its peak. Not a physical kingdom with walls and towers, but an invisible, sprawling web whose tendrils reached into every corner of Nebulon.Their influence seeped into the great sects, the chambers of com

Rayden's heart beat a little faster, a sensation he hadn't felt in a long time. Not from fear, but from hope. After being crushed to his lowest point, a flicker of light had suddenly appeared at the end of the dark tunnel."Another power?" he asked, his calm voice now filled with an unconcealable tremor of anticipation. "Who?"Sylvan didn't answer directly. The ancient forest guardian looked up at the cave ceiling, as if listening again to his last conversation with an old friend. He relayed the final message, or rather, the final strategic analysis from the lost Master Kenanga."When I asked him about Brahma Angkara," Sylvan said, quoting his friend, "He said—'The Ashura Palace is too divided to fight him directly. They are a headless dragon, their power is great, but their movements are chaotic and contradictory.'""Then what about the other great sects?" Rayden asked, his mind immediately working, mapping out potential alliances."They are too arrogant and will never unite," Sylvan

Sylvan nodded, a slow movement of the ancient branches that formed his body. It was as if he had been waiting for this decision since the moment he first found Rayden lying at the bottom of the crater."I knew you would be," he said, his hoarse voice now audible in the air, no longer just in Rayden's mind. "This forest has healed your body and calmed your soul. But the world out there will not be so kind."This was their farewell. Rayden, now fully recovered with his new, stronger, and purer foundation, stood at the edge of the Silent Forest, where the giant trees met a vast grassland that stretched toward a distant mountain range. He turned to the ancient guardian who had been both his savior and his teacher."I don't know how I can ever repay your kindness," Rayden said sincerely. There was no longer any trace of arrogance in his voice, only a deep gratitude."The forest does not ask for repayment," Sylvan answered. "It only asks for balance. The path you have chosen may help to res