Chapter 289

Chapter 289: The Rising Cultivation, Perfecting Refining the Evil in One Incense Stick?

Mu Lin knew nothing of the outside commotion. His reason for summoning so many paper figures was straightforward.

“Ninth attempt, yet the evil fusion is only at 9%. Too slow…”

Each over-the-limit fusion boosted the rate by just 1%. To reach 100%—perfecting Refining the Evil—he’d need 100 cycles. This number… was typical.

Ordinary cultivators required three to five days of rest between each fusion. For 100 cycles, that meant 300 to 500 days—over a year.

But most couldn’t push themselves to the absolute limit (full transformation into Clay Sculpture). Injuries would force them to halt refining and recover.

Such caution cut their efficiency to half or even a third of Mu Lin’s. Normally, an ordinary person needed three to five years to fully perfect Refining the Evil—and that didn’t include time spent hunting for evil energy.

Talented heirs from powerful clans fared better, using resources to shorten this to a year or so.

Mu Lin, however, needed only three to five hours with his Substitute Paper Figures.

Even this blazing speed felt sluggish to him. So he deployed clone cultivation, making the paper figures refine evil alongside him.

“Hum!”

Thirteen Substitute Paper Figures appeared, skyrocketing his training speed.

They absorbed Central Earth Evil, blended it with magic and spirit Marks, then turned into Clay Sculptures before crumbling—leaving behind refined evil energy stamped with Mu Lin’s Mark.

Since this energy already bore his Mark, he simply reabsorbed it. No second refinement needed.

His training speed exploded tenfold.

9%, 10%, 11%, 13%, 15%, 17%…24%…33%…

With thirteen paper figures, Mu Lin’s aura swelled visibly. In less than an hour of meditation, he jumped from early to mid-stage Refining the Evil.

And his speed didn’t drop after reaching mid-stage.

The onlookers gaped.

“A minor tier up in an hour of meditation? Will he perfect it before an incense stick burns out?”

“This… can’t be real!”

“No one cultivates this fast!”

“Slap!”

“Ouch! Why hit me?”

“Checking if I’m dreaming. You felt it—so it’s real.”

“Hit yourself next time!”

…

Mu Lin’s speed of advancement sent shockwaves through the powerful clans’ ordinary members. Even Prince Liang and East Sea King, who’d already respected him, were rattled.

East Sea King: “Seventh Brother, how long did Master Zhang take to refine evil back then?”

“Th-three months… His innate Dao Body made evil fusion effortless. Those months were just for building his magic reserves…”

Prince Liang trailed off, stunned.

“Wait, the magical essence! What Mu Lin is doing doesn’t make sense. To refine the evil, one needs both evil energy and enhanced magical essence. Where is he getting the magical essence to fuse with the evil energy?”

Prince Liang spotted the anomaly but couldn’t grasp the reason.

As for Mu Lin, he felt a flicker of relief.

“Thankfully, the City God Realm and spiritual veins are here. Who knew refining evil would drain so much magical essence…”

Indeed, the City God Realm and spiritual veins.

Mu Lin had summoned only thirteen paper figures instead of his full force because the rest were stationed in the City God Realm, channeling spiritual energy to him nonstop.

Though many Substitute Paper Figures had been lost since entering the Grave Lord’s tomb, he still retained around three hundred, with the destroyed ones steadily regenerating.

Inside the City God Realm, some Substitute Paper Figures refined spiritual energy to sustain him.

Others drifted within the spiritual veins, absorbing their nourishing energy.

A third group labored to craft new Substitute Paper Figures.

Yes, Mu Lin’s paper figures could even produce more of their kind.

Though limited by the need for his magical essence, soul fragments, and vital blood as catalysts, this endless production remained invaluable.

This explained his claim of possessing three to five hundred Substitute Paper Figures.

“Normally, I have over three hundred. But if you fail to kill me quickly, their numbers will grow past five hundred.”

“And this is just the beginning. If I master law possessing a primal spirit, soul regeneration, and blood replication… unless an enemy slaughters me a thousand times in moments, my substitutions will never end.”

Musing on this bright future, Mu Lin continued refining the Central Earth Evil.

Another hour of meditation later, his cultivation surged from mid-stage to late-stage Refining the Evil.

By then, sixty to seventy Substitute Paper Figures had been consumed.

“His cultivation rose again…”

“Who cares about cultivation? He’s lost sixty lives and still won’t stop! How many lives does this bastard have?!”

“You’d need to kill him over a hundred times! Who can do that?!”

“Monster…”

“Contact our descendants in the tomb—warn them never to cross Mu Lin. That man cannot die!”

A hundred lives as a baseline? Such absurdity crushed any thought of opposing him among the powerful clans.

Yet witnessing Mu Lin’s stubborn resilience sparked another uneasy thought:

“Could the Grave Lord inheritance end up in his hands?”

“…”

Silence followed.

Earlier, such a claim would’ve drawn ridicule. Back then, Mu Lin was a novice at Refining the Evil, while others had reached Condensing Essence or even combining Essence and Evil. He’d been deemed unworthy.

Even Si Ye, Dongfang Ya, and Master Meng Rui had opposed his entry into the Grave Lord inheritance secret realm, dismissing his low cultivation.

Now, faced with his meteoric rise and bottomless lifeline, the powerful clans had no retort.

After a long pause, someone muttered, “Mu Lin qualifies for the inheritance… but only barely.”

“He’s strong, but so are Wandering Bug, Zui Xiaoyao, and Spirit Void Master.”

“The minor tyrants wield unmatched valor. Mu Lin just cheats death. In direct combat, he’d fall to Zui Xiaoyao’s group.”

Others voiced darker worries: “The Grave Lord inheritance isn’t just threatened by humans. Descendants of evil gods and monsters lurk there too—far deadlier foes.”

“No, the real danger is the inheritance itself. A god’s tomb? The Grave Lord’s trials won’t be simple.”

“Agreed. A centipede dies but doesn’t stiffen—how much harder to claim a god’s secrets? This won’t end easily.”