The Forbidden Monarch art had proven invaluable to Grey during the intense battle. Without the activation of his cold energy, he feared that when the black-clad Amon entered his Special Brilliance form, he would have been reduced to ash in mere moments. The searing heat from that moment was still vivid in his mind, like a haunting scar. Even the captain, a cultivator at the Foundation Establishment realm and on the verge of forming her first Ball of Spirit Fire, had found herself utterly powerless in the face of Amon's overwhelming power.

Grey's gaze shifted to her now, his mind still replaying the events. She was seated not far from him, her chest visibly caved in from the brutality of the battle. Her face was pale, drawn with pain, yet there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips, despite the blood trickling down the side of her mouth. 'Even in the midst of suffering, she still bears the spirit of a battle-crazed maniac,' Grey thought with a quiet sigh. Throughout the entire conflict with the black-clothed cultivator, it could hardly be called a struggle. Although they had fought with everything they had, pushing forward, even as the odds seemed stacked against them, they were still outmatched in the end.

Grey's mind wandered back to the fight, his thoughts analyzing every detail. If 'Amon' had activated his Special Brilliance form any sooner, he doubted they would have survived. He might not have even been able to approach Amon before he was overwhelmed by that unbearable heat.

What troubled him most, however, was how effortlessly the black-clad cultivator had countered his attacks. Each strike, each technique, and each blow he landed, had either been blocked or skillfully dodged. Grey knew that this wasn't a failure on his part. It was the gap in their cultivation levels that made the difference. The disparity between their realms was simply too great. Even so, Grey had always been confident in his abilities. At the Eighth level, his fighting prowess was enough to rival someone at the Tenth level—perhaps even those at the Perfected level.

After all, in their assault on the Shadow Sect, both he and Ange had managed to hold their own against elders who were at the Perfected level, even if those elders' cultivation bases were less than genuine. 'Their cultivation was fake,' Grey reminded himself, 'But their power still resided within the Perfected level nonetheless.'

The thought lingered, and Grey couldn't help but wonder, 'What if those Shadow Sect elders were to break through and reach the Foundation Establishment realm? Would their foundations be strong enough to support a true Foundation-level cultivator? Or would they have Fake Foundations?'

As these thoughts churned within his mind, Grey slowly sank into a meditative posture, cross-legged on the enchanted deck of the magic ship. He was alone; the captain was inside her room, cultivating in silence as well. The rhythmic sounds of the ship gliding through the air blended with the quiet stillness of the moment, allowing Grey to focus on his internal state. He decided to cultivate to heal himself from the injuries he had sustained, and also to enter that semi-conscious state once again to free his mind.

But before he completely shut his mind and entered a state of half-unconsciousness, he first left a sliver of his perception outside of his body. So that anything that came within 100 meters of himself or the magic ship would be noticed by him.

Although he was not afraid of Amon suddenly appearing, he was still afraid of being attacked by sea creatures.

As he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to enter a meditative state, he became acutely aware of the fine, almost imperceptible particles that drifted into his body. These particles, subtle and barely tangible, were the very essence of cultivation, invisible to the untrained eye but felt intensely by the cultivator. They were the building blocks of his power, and as they permeated his being, Grey could feel their familiar presence, like an old friend returning after a long absence.

However, there was something else that accompanied these usual spirit particles. A cold, almost eerie energy—a yin energy—began to seep into his body as well. The Cold Yin energy was vastly different from the spirit energy he normally absorbed. It was far more serene, almost detached in its presence, bringing a sense of stillness that calmed his turbulent mind. Yet, it was the kind of energy that few could cultivate, let alone control. Grey had only recently come to truly understand its nature.

The two energies—spirit energy and Cold Yin—began to circulate throughout his body in a synchronized rhythm. He could feel the way they moved, intertwining, but never truly merging. It was as if the energies were in a silent agreement to stay separate, to coexist without clashing. They glided around each other, flowing down distinct pathways within his body, as if each recognized the other's presence but held no interest in mixing.

Grey knew this harmony was delicate. If these two energies were ever to come into direct contact, the consequences could be catastrophic. The difference in their compositions was so profound that even the slightest clash would cause his body to disintegrate from the inside out. The Cold Yin energy was frigid, precise, and sharp—a force that could tear through the very essence of life. In contrast, the spirit energy was warm, vibrant, the very foundation of all cultivation and existence. It was the core of vitality, while Cold Yin was the essence of death.

Despite their opposing natures, Grey found that he had grown accustomed to this balance. It was as if the two energies respected each other's domain, allowing him to wield both simultaneously without risk of self-destruction. His cultivation methods, born from his unique connection with the Forbidden Monarch art, made this dual control possible. But even so, Grey knew that every moment he spent in this state was a fragile dance—a delicate balance between the cold void of death and the endless warmth of life.

He was taking a risk by cultivating Cold you energy, but wasn't cultivation a risk in the first place?

As the energies continued their dance within him, Grey's thoughts drifted once more. 'What would it be like if I could fully master this Cold Yin energy? Or be able to use it like Caster did.' He pondered. The potential it held was vast, and yet, it was an energy that could just as easily consume him as it could empower him. The choice to pursue it was one of great risk, but in times like these, with enemies like Amon lurking on the horizon, he knew it was a path he might have to walk.

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