Chapter 229: Grinding
After returning to the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo, Wang Chen didn’t linger for even a breath.
No tea.
No wandering thoughts.
No pretending to be a wise, lazy immortal.
The moment his feet touched the courtyard—
His figure blurred.
And the next instant, he had already descended into the first floor of the tower.
The familiar oppressive atmosphere wrapped around him again.
A faint chill crept through the air, thick with resentment and decay, as if the space itself had long since forgotten what it meant to be alive.
Wang Chen barely paid attention to it.
His eyes were fixed on something else.
The newly awakened class window hovered before him.
---
[Class: Sweeper (Rare)]
[Level: 0]
[Strength: 1]
[Agility: 1]
[Perception: 1]
[Physique: 1]
[Mana: 5]
[Class Skills: Dry Broom – Level 1, Wet Broom – Level 2]
---
Silence.
Wang Chen stared at it.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then—
His eyelids lowered halfway.
"...Yeah."
A slow, tired exhale left his mouth.
"Why did I even bother..."
He dragged a hand down his face, the faintest trace of disappointment leaking through his otherwise calm expression.
It didn’t make sense.
Not really.
After absorbing the luck of Murong Shenchen and the All-Seeing Immortal, he had expected something... better.
Something decent.
At the very least, something that didn’t sound like a janitor’s career path.
But this?
A Sweeper?
His lips twitched.
The faint anticipation he had carried into the tower quietly collapsed.
Still dog shit, apparently.
For a brief moment, he just stood there, staring at the absurdity of it.
Then—
The world around him reminded him where he was.
A low, guttural howl tore through the silence.
Then another.
And another.
The shadows stirred.
From the depths of the ruined land, twisted forms began crawling out, their bodies barely holding shape, their faces warped with endless resentment.
The resenment ghosts had noticed him.
And they did not hesitate.
They surged forward like a starving tide.
Their screams tore through the air, sharp and broken, filled with so much hatred that it felt almost physical. The kind of sound that could make a grown man collapse in terror if heard for too long.
Dozens of them rushed toward him.
Fast.
Relentless.
Wang Chen didn’t move.
Not immediately.
His eyes remained calm.
Empty.
As if what was charging at him wasn’t a swarm of vengeful spirits—
But nothing at all.
The difference from before was obvious.
Back then, this place had restricted him heavily.
Now—
Not anymore.
Slowly, he raised his hand.
Two fingers extended.
Like a sword.
A faint ripple spread outward.
"Three Turn Sword Art..."
His voice was quiet.
Controlled.
"One turn... to become one with everything."
The moment the words fell—
The space around him trembled.
A vast sword field erupted outward with Wang Chen at its center, expanding like a pulse of invisible force.
It didn’t roar.
It didn’t explode.
It simply spread.
And everything in its path—
Was cut.
Resenment ghosts didn’t even have time to react.
Their forms shattered silently, dissolving into nothingness the instant the field passed through them.
Dozens.
Gone.
In an instant.
The space within tens of meters became completely empty.
Wang Chen stood there, unmoving.
A faint notification flickered in the corner of his vision.
Level rising.
Again...And again.
Almost absurdly fast.
But he didn’t even blink.
Didn’t care.
He wasn’t here for that.
His goal was clear.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine Resentment Ghost Kings.
Anything else—
Was irrelevant.
Time began to pass.
Days turned into months.
Months into years.
Wang Chen moved through the first floor like a silent reaper, cutting down anything that came near him, his presence gradually becoming something the ghosts themselves seemed to fear.
And yet—
What he was looking for...
Never appeared.
Ten years passed.
Then more.
Still nothing.
Not a single Ghost King.
Wang Chen finally stopped.
For the first time in years, his brows furrowed.
"...There’s something wrong."
His voice was low.
Measured.
"It shouldn’t take this long."
By all logic, he should have encountered at least one by now.
But the tower remained empty of them.
Silent.
Uncooperative.
Yet—
He didn’t turn back.
Didn’t reconsider.
Wang Chen was not the kind of person who abandoned a path halfway through.
Once he chose something—
He saw it to the end.
Even if it meant grinding through decades of monotony.
Still...
Even someone like him had limits when it came to boredom.
So—
He decided to make use of the time.
A faint ripple passed through his eyes.
The Rune of Non-Existent Authority stirred.
Something that did not exist—
Something that could not exist—
Was pulled into being.
A guide.
Perfect.
Flawless.
A step-by-step manual written by the most supreme weapon refiner imaginable.
A guide so precise, so absolute, that even a donkey—
Given enough time—
Could become the greatest refiner in existence.
The idea itself was absurd.
Impossible.
Such a thing shouldn’t exist.
Which made it perfect.
Because Wang Chen didn’t care about what should or shouldn’t exist.
He had the authority to overwrite that distinction.
As long as the "non-existence" within the rune was sufficient—
Anything could be made real.
And right now—
He needed results.
Not logic.
Thankfully, it was only a guide.
That alone made all the difference.
Wang Chen understood his own limits far too well. Expecting himself to suddenly comprehend the intricacies of weapon refinement from scratch would be like expecting a donkey to recite Dao scriptures. But a guide—something structured, something that broke complexity into steps—that was different. That was manageable.
With that thought settled firmly in his mind, he stopped hesitating.
The moment his intention formed, the Rune of Non-Existent Authority deep within his qi sea responded.
It did not flare violently, nor did it release any grand aura.
Instead, it stirred quietly.
Subtly.
Like something ancient waking up from a long slumber.
A faint distortion rippled through space, barely noticeable, and in the next instant—
A thin book appeared in Wang Chen’s hand.
It wasn’t grand.
It wasn’t ancient-looking.
It didn’t radiate any overwhelming aura.
If anything, it looked almost... ordinary.
The kind of book one might casually toss aside without a second glance.
On its cover, a few simple words were written:
Weapon Refining for Dummies!
Wang Chen froze.
Then his eyes lit up.
A grin spread across his face, unrestrained and genuine.
For a brief moment, the composed, aloof cultivator disappeared, replaced by something far more human.
Excitement.
Pure, unfiltered excitement.
He almost jumped on the spot.
If anyone had seen him at that moment, they might have questioned whether this was the same person who casually erased Domain Sovereigns from existence.
"Perfect..."
The word slipped out, filled with satisfaction.
This was exactly what he needed.
No unnecessary complexity.
No cryptic nonsense.
Just something that worked.
With that, Wang Chen no longer wasted time.
While waiting for the elusive Remnant Ghost Kings to appear, he began diving into the art of weapon refinement.
The book did not disappoint.
From the very first page, it spoke to him in a tone that was almost... insulting in its simplicity.
It assumed nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Every concept was broken down into its most basic form, explained with a level of clarity that left no room for misunderstanding.
It didn’t glorify refinement.
It didn’t romanticize the process.
Instead, it stripped it down to what it truly was—
Control.
And the very real possibility of ruining everything if one got careless.
For the first time, the mysterious art of weapon refining felt... approachable.
Something he could actually grasp.
And so—
He began.
At first, the process was painfully slow.
Slower than he had expected.
Slower than he liked.
Every step required attention.
Every movement required control.
There was no room for shortcuts.
No room for brute force.
By the end of the first year, he had only managed to refine weapons at the Body Refining Realm.
It was... underwhelming.
By the fifth year, he reached the Foundation Building level.
Progress existed—
But it crawled forward like a stubborn beast.
Wang Chen didn’t stop.
He didn’t complain.
He simply continued.
Day after day.
Year after year.
Time, within the tower, became something distant.
Irrelevant.
He worked.
Constantly.
If he wasn’t refining—
He was fighting.
The resenment ghosts that once posed a threat had long since become nothing more than moving targets.
He hunted them relentlessly.
Not out of necessity—
But out of efficiency.
The Sweeper class, as ridiculous as it sounded, was still a system.
And systems had rewards.
Skills.
Hidden potential.
He had no intention of wasting that.
Even if the class looked pathetic now, there was always the possibility of something valuable appearing later.
And Wang Chen was not someone who ignored possibilities.
Time flowed.
Unnoticed.
Uncounted.
By the end of the first century, Wang Chen could refine Golden Core-level weapons with steady hands and calm precision.
The once unfamiliar art had become second nature.
His movements were smoother.
Cleaner.
More deliberate.
The hesitation that once slowed him down had vanished.
And in the midst of this endless cycle of refinement and slaughter—
He finally encountered one.
A Resentment Ghost King.
The moment it appeared, its aura surged violently, far surpassing the ordinary ghosts that filled the floor.
But Wang Chen didn’t react with excitement.
Or caution.
He simply moved.
The Ghost King didn’t even have time to struggle before it was suppressed and dragged into the Thousand Soul Flag.
Just like that—
One down.
From that point onward, the first floor of the tower ceased to feel like a battlefield.
It became something else entirely.
A training ground.
A workshop.
A place where time itself seemed to bend around Wang Chen’s will.
No matter how many ghosts gathered—
They couldn’t threaten him.
They couldn’t slow him down.
They were simply... there.
Resources.
Time continued to pass in this monotonous yet strangely productive rhythm.
Every hundred years or so, another Ghost King would wander into his reach.
And each time—
The result was the same.
Captured.
Stored.
Added to his growing collection.
Meanwhile, his skill in weapon refinement advanced steadily.
Relentlessly.
Wang Chen could feel it himself.
That slow, grinding progress from before had begun to accelerate.
What once took years now took months.
What once required effort now came naturally.
At some point—
A thought surfaced in his mind.
A quiet, almost amused realization.
At this rate...
Before I even finish collecting all the Ghost Kings...
I might actually become a Grandmaster.
The idea lingered.
Not as a boast.
But as a simple observation.
And for once—
It didn’t sound ridiculous.