Tian Lei mumbled fondly to himself, "First engraving done… not bad."

He could still feel the faint warmth of the runes branded deep within his soul—subtle yet undeniably alive. This was no ordinary inscription; it was a soul engraving, a feat most mages wouldn't even dare attempt.

Each engraving demanded tremendous foundation. In his case, one engraving required the equivalent of a hundred Arcane Soul Marks—a monstrous threshold by any standard. The reason was simple: engraving wasn't merely recording a spell; it was binding it to the very essence of one's soul, turning thought into instinct and incantation into will.

For ordinary mages, such a process bordered on suicide. Even a slight misalignment could result in soul fracturing or total mana deviation. But for Tian Lei, a Magus King heir, this was just another meticulous process—tedious, dangerous, but familiar.

Still, he understood the trade-off.

Engraving meant permanence.

Once a spell was engraved, it became a part of him—it could no longer be altered, refined, or forgotten. Yet, in exchange, it offered priceless advantages:

He no longer needed chants or activation gestures.

The spell would respond instantly to his will, woven directly into his mana flow.

And most importantly—it would grow stronger alongside him.

As his soul deepened, so too would the potency of his engraved spells.

He leaned back against the chair, letting the dim lamplight wash over his face. "One down… ninety-nine marks to go before the next engraving slot," he said with a soft chuckle. "Looks like I'll be busy for a while."

The faint glow of the engraved runes in his soul sea pulsed once—like a heartbeat responding to his satisfaction.

Then his expression sharpened.

He turned toward the table where several enchanted items lay—the rings, pendants, and fragments he had gathered. Their faint glow flickered erratically, proof of residual binding seals still active within them.

"Let's begin the real test," he murmured.

Tian Lei extended his right hand, and the air around his palm rippled as the newly engraved spell responded to his will. Runic Erasure awakened.

Invisible runes shimmered around his fingers, forming intricate chains of logic and command—each one pulsing in perfect synchronization with his heartbeat.

He aimed at the first ring, whispering the spell's true name in the tongue of the Magus King:

"Ryn'thera—Unbind."

The runes detached from his palm and sank into the ring like droplets of ink dissolving in water. For a moment, the air went utterly still. Then—

Crack!

A faint web of light splintered across the ring's surface before fading entirely. The enchantment dissolved, leaving behind pure spiritual essence sealed within.

Tian Lei's lips curved slightly. "Flawless execution."

The power was clean, efficient—surgical.No backlash, no wasted mana.

He leaned forward, eyes glinting. "Next."

And so, one by one, the seals began to fall, the room filling with the faint hum of dissolving enchantments. Each success deepened his understanding of Runic Erasure, and each failure—when it rarely came—was quietly absorbed, analyzed, and corrected with precision born of arcane mastery.

By the time the final seal dissolved, Tian Lei sat before a small mountain of unlocked treasures—each once a sealed mystery, now laid bare under his calm gaze.

He let out a low whistle. "Quite the haul…"

Inside each storage item, he found a variety of things—some valuable, some mundane, and some just plain odd. Most were personal effects: dried herbs, beast bones, spare clothes, or old talismans. Nothing grand. But among that clutter were a few things worth smiling over—spirit coins.

A lot of them.

After sorting through every pouch and ring, he tallied his fortune: over 1,200 white-gold spirit coins.

He chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. "Heh. Not bad for an afternoon's work."

In this world's economy, one white-gold spirit coin equaled 1,000 gold coins, and one gold coin equaled 100 silver coins. Each silver coin, in turn, was worth 100 copper coins. In short—he wasn't just comfortable. He was rich.

For an ordinary tamer, this kind of money could buy an estate in the inner city or a mid-grade cultivation art from a proper sect. For Tian Lei, however, it was just a fortunate windfall—useful, but not immediately vital.

Among the items, he also discovered several cultivation arts and combat techniques—none particularly remarkable. Most were Earth-rank or Low-Heaven rank manuals: things like "Soaring Cloud Step," "Nine Flame Palm," and "Verdant Flow Scripture." Good by local standards, but ultimately useless to him.

After all, he couldn't even begin true cultivation yet.

At six years old, his dantian—the spiritual core within the body—was still sealed. Until it awakened naturally at twelve, he couldn't form a spirit link, summon his life beast, or circulate mana properly through his veins. Any attempt before that would only harm him.

He exhaled through his nose and stretched lazily. "No point rushing. When the egg hatches, then the real work begins."

As for the rest of the loot—he found a few weapons of Mortal and Spirit grade quality. Fine craftsmanship, decent balance, but they all required spirit energy to wield effectively. In his current state, they were little more than pretty sticks and sharp ornaments.

So, he simply stored them all inside his Expansive Space, tossing the weapons in one corner and the less valuable trinkets in another.

"Spirit-powered weapons… arts I can't use… beast materials that'll rot if left alone…" He clicked his tongue lightly, then smiled. "Well, at least I can sell half of it."

His plan was simple: keep the useful materials and trade the rest for practical supplies and maybe a few talismans for self-defense. With over a thousand white-gold coins in his possession, he could afford to act discreetly and avoid attention.

He looked at the pile of remaining rings and storage items, their enchantments now inert and harmless. "From worthless junk to a fortune overnight," he mused. "I suppose that's one way to start a new life."

Tian Lei emerged from his secluded chamber, the faint scent of incense still lingering in the air—a reminder of the long days spent in quiet isolation. Outside, the bustling streets of Mist Leaf City stretched beneath the afternoon sun, alive with color and sound. Merchants shouted over one another, spirit beasts pulled lacquered carriages, and the air shimmered faintly with traces of spiritual energy from passing cultivators.

He adjusted his cloak, pulling the hood slightly lower before heading toward the nearest information pavilion. The attendant, a sharp-eyed young woman, greeted him with the kind of professional warmth that came from years of dealing with every sort of eccentric customer.

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