Body command feeding world

Happy fifth day of the Lunar New Year!

The eerie winds of Black Wind Ridge swirled withered branches and leaves, crashing against the jagged rocks with a shrill, mournful sound. Thick, murky fog crawled along the ground, enveloping the entire main peak in a deathly gray silence. Wu Wei stood on the cliffside platform, spear in hand. His yang energy and blood essence emanated slightly, a pale golden aura repelling the onslaught of yin energy. His robes fluttered, yet his figure remained as steady as a rock.

The marrow organ has already reached a minor stage of development.

No longer a nascent, ethereal aura, nor a fragmented essence clinging to the spear, but a true, natal weapon spirit, truly integrated with the black iron spear, resonating with the marrow, and connected to the soul. Fine, gilded patterns flowed slowly along the blade's spine, flickering with each breath like living veins. The two ends were evenly long and neat, their cold light restrained yet unstoppable. Weight, balance, feel, and point of force were all perfectly suited to the body's habits—light as a feather with one hand, heavy as a mountain with both, capable of piercing the air and seizing souls from afar, or engaging in close-quarters combat, without the slightest awkwardness or barrier.

Guns are people, and people are guns.

This statement is no longer a vague concept of a higher realm, but a true reflection of the complete resonance between the physical body and the soldier's spirit.

Wu Wei lowered his eyes, his fingertips lightly brushing the blade, feeling its coolness. From his marrow sea, pure marrow essence gushed into the spear like a spring, each flow clearly perceptible, without the slightest hesitation. His blood essence was already perfected, his bone essence had transformed into armor as hard as heavy iron, and now his marrow weapon was partially completed. The three elemental barriers quietly connected, mutually attracting, nourishing, and amplifying each other. His aura became increasingly profound, as still as an abyss, and as powerful as thunder that cleaved the sky when in motion.

"The basic form of the marrow weapon is complete, and the foundation is solid." Shu's thoughts rang calmly in his sea of ​​consciousness, clear with the nourishment of the fragments of origin. "But the form is there, but the meaning is not yet complete. The marrow essence and spear technique have not yet been fully integrated. Ranged attacks, melee combat, switching, and coordination still need to be honed into instincts in actual combat, allowing no time for thought."

Wu and Wei nodded, remaining silent.

He didn't need to say much; he already understood perfectly.

Reaching a certain level of skill and mastering a weapon does not equate to having combat power naturally.

The true essence of spearmanship lies not in the level of skill, but in the ease with which it is used, the ability to control the gun with perfect precision, and the ability to decide life and death in a split second.

He took a deep breath, and the Yang Flame Blood Essence surged evenly through his meridians. His bone armor trembled gently beneath his skin and flesh, resonating more closely with his marrow. In the next instant, he slightly ground his feet, and his body suddenly stepped forward without any effort, his hand holding the gun suddenly reaching out.

A single dragon pierces the sun.

The spearhead moved with a straight, unyielding force, its essence flowing through the blade. There were no superfluous flourishes, only the purest straightness, speed, and sharpness. The spear tip pierced the air with a short, sharp whistle, and the blazing heat surged half a foot along the blade, scorching a straight line through the misty haze ahead. The force traveled dozens of feet, striking a withered, ancient tree. The trunk shattered instantly, splinters of wood and sparks flying everywhere.

Once the attack is launched, the momentum is immediately withdrawn.

With a flick of the wrist, the gun is instantly switched from one hand to both, the waist sinks and the steps spin, the gun sweeps horizontally, and both blades shine simultaneously.

Two dragons cutting the moon.

With both blades extended simultaneously, they cleaved like iron shears, unleashing a howling wind that instantly swept the three approaching shadow demons into the blade's blast. The shadow demons' bodies were torn apart by the sharp blades, followed by the burning and melting flames. Before they could even let out a complete wail, they turned into wisps of black smoke and dissipated into the wind.

The long-range thrust lands, and the close-quarters combat begins in an instant; the transition is seamless, without the slightest hesitation.

The deathly silence shattered abruptly.

The ground churned silently, and dozens of pale, withered vines, resembling the fingers of a dead man, burst forth from the earth. Fingertips dripped foul-smelling black pus, winding like venomous snakes, silently coiling around the ankles. The withered vine spirits lurked underground, devouring bone marrow. Those entangled were unable to even struggle before being dragged underground and squeezed into dried-up corpses.

Wu Wei's eyes turned cold, and instead of retreating, he advanced. He instantly changed his grip on the gun with one hand, and the back edge of the gun suddenly pressed down, causing the Yangyan Blood Essence to erupt.

Flame Spear.

The sharp blade swept across, its scorching heat cutting through the grass like a knife. The pale vine snapped instantly, the black pus at the broken ends hissing and convulsing violently. But the broken vine did not die; instead, it grew wildly, withered tendrils bursting from the ground from all directions, densely packed like countless ghostly hands reaching out, the stench so foul it was nauseating, threatening to engulf anyone in an instant.

"The essence of the withered vine is cold and corrosive to the marrow, feeding on bones and blood." The thought flashed through Shu's mind.

Wu Wei neither dodged nor evaded, his bone armor taut, enduring the biting cold of the vines brushing against his body. He didn't indiscriminately attack, but instead used the vine tide to hone his techniques and transitions—a single-handed long-range thrust, two-handed close-range entanglement, the vanguard breaking through armor, the rear locking branches—each move precisely pinning down the vine joints, each switch faster than instinct. The withered vines coiled tighter and tighter, black pus dripping to the ground, corroding and hissing white smoke, the chill almost seeping into his very bones.

He suddenly lowered his waist, both spears gleaming, their blades radiating heat.

Two dragons cutting the moon.

The gun, shaped like a wheel, opened and closed in rapid succession, unleashing a burst of scorching wind that melted and burned all the nearby vines, filling the air with a pungent, acrid stench. The remaining withered fingers twitched and retreated back into the earth, leaving behind only a trail of sticky black liquid and twisted, broken vines.

Wu Wei sheathed his spear and stood still, his breathing remaining steady, only the gilded patterns on the spear shaft shone even brighter. The connection between his marrow weapon and his flesh deepened further in this life-or-death moment.

Before they could catch their breath, a faint, mournful, and almost heartbreaking child's cry suddenly drifted from the depths of the dense forest.

The cries, intermittent yet exceptionally clear in the deathly silent mountains, were captivating and evoked pity.

Wu Wei looked up and saw a withered locust tree standing in the mist, its trunk split open in a ghastly white, weeping face. Dark red tears streamed from its eyes, meandering down the grooves of the bark. Sticky saliva mixed with blood dripped down, causing any grass or wood touched by it to wither and turn black. The weeping face opened and closed intermittently, and the cries emanated from the crack, mournful and eerie—it was the most cunning and deadly of all spirits—the Weeping Locust Spirit.

Beneath the bark, one can vaguely see finely interlocking sharp teeth; embedded in the crevices of the tree trunk are the mutilated skeletons of several children, their empty eye sockets staring at him as if silently watching, sending chills down one's spine.

The cries suddenly rose in pitch, carrying a soul-snatching, sinister power that pierced straight into the sea of ​​consciousness. Ordinary cultivators would be disoriented upon hearing them, involuntarily moving closer to the tree trunk, only to have their bodies suddenly snapped shut by the trunk, their flesh and blood completely absorbed, their bones embedded in the tree, transforming into new masks of lure and kill.

Wu Wei's brow twitched slightly, and his Yang Flame Blood Essence instantly surged into his sea of ​​consciousness, dispelling the bewitching Yin energy. His eyes were as cold as ice; he had already seen through this insidious trick.

"This spirit is adept at using illusionary sounds to lure enemies, hides its teeth in tree trunks, feeds on flesh and blood, and its spirit is predominantly yin," Shu calmly reminded him.

Wu Wei stepped forward slowly, spear in hand, unmoved by the cries. He didn't want a quick kill, but rather to hone his spear skills through the strange creatures, completely binding his weapon with his soul and spear techniques.

When the weeping locust spirit's attempt to lure and kill it failed, its trunk suddenly exploded, unleashing countless blood-stained, sticky branches that danced wildly outwards. Its weeping face split open to its ears, revealing a dense network of serrated teeth, and a stench of blood assaulted the senses. Blood and tears rained down, anything that touched it would immediately rot, its chilling force corroding to the bone.

Wu Wei shifted his stance and suddenly thrust forward with one hand holding the gun.

A rainbow breaks through illusions.

A sharp point of light gleamed at the spear tip, designed to pierce through evil illusions and directly strike the core of the weeping locust spirit. The sticky branches frantically tried to intercept, but were burned away by the spear's blazing heat, sending plumes of smoke rising.

At close range, the trunk of the locust tree suddenly snapped shut, the sound of its sharp teeth snapping together was extremely piercing. Wu Wei instantly switched his grip on the spear with both hands, holding it horizontally, the two tips bracing against the immense force of the closing tree trunk, simultaneously activating his bone essence, blood essence, and marrow essence.

Burning Demon Lock Blade.

The scorching sun surged along the spear, burning the tree trunk. The crying face emitted an inhuman scream, spraying blood and tears. Wu Wei used the momentum to spin the spear, using a series of attacks: a frontal strike, a rear slash, a close-range grappling hook, and a long-range thrust. The spear shadows were like a woven tapestry, completely enveloping the locust tree spirit's branches, sticky branches, and the crying face.

He wasn't in a hurry to unleash a devastating attack; instead, he honed his skills, move by move:

Long-range thrusts, close-range slashes, branch locks, meridian severing, illusion breaking, and evil burning—one hand is nimble, two hands are domineering, switching like lightning, endless cycle.

The weeping locust spirit roared incessantly, its trunk scorched and cracked, its blood, tears, and saliva flowing out. Finally, a spear pierced its core, causing the yang flames and marrow essence to erupt simultaneously. The entire ancient locust tree exploded and burned into a pile of pitch-black ashes.

A gust of cold wind swept away the ashes, leaving only a pile of dry bones and a pungent, burnt stench.

Wu Wei sheathed his spear; the gilded patterns on the spear shaft were warm and translucent, and the flow of vital energy was smooth and unimpeded. Long-range attacks and close combat, single-handed and double-handed attacks, and the transitions between moves had been completely ingrained in his body and instincts, without the slightest sluggishness.

The marrow organ is partially formed and completely stable.

Gun skills honed to perfection.

The three elements are now interconnected, with no more barriers.

He lowered his gaze and gently stroked the gun, the touch on his fingertips both cool and familiar, the feeling of oneness between man and gun clearer than ever before. Deep within Black Wind Ridge, the aura of the primordial fragment grew stronger, drawing a subtle resonance through his very bones.

The mountain winds grew stronger, and the fog and miasma thickened.

Wu Wei slowly raised his eyes, his gaze piercing through the shadows and looking into the depths of the main peak.

The gun is sharpened.

The body is already secured.

The road ahead is open to exploration.