Painting Thirteen: Purification and Genetic Remolding

Bishop Anthony also received the news that Sang Sang had taken first place in the probationary trial.

"This child is truly a surprise," the old man chuckled. "No matter the result of the refinement, pass the word along—raise Sena’s clearance. Don’t be stingy with the child. If she can make it to the semi-finals next year, that’s enough. If there really isn’t time, there’s always the special prodigy clause—haven’t used that quota in thousands of years."

"Yes, Your Excellency. Should we transfer some resources from His Highness Bronwyn? Right now, the weight of a human Saintess far surpasses that of a waterfolk Saintess."

Bishop Anthony pondered for a moment. "Not yet. Wait until the people from Little Red Leaf’s homeland arrive—distribute a batch of resources to them at core-level standards." That so-called Celestial Emperor might yet bring some surprises.

In the Aslan family’s cultivation chamber, Sena, Aslan, and the elf Boya watched through the partition as the young girl floated in the primordial energy.

Elf Boya stroked his pointed chin. "Looks like she’s noticed something’s off. The world essence wasn’t wasted after all. But did you tell her she was just a hair short of one thousand eight hundred in concentration?"

Aslan’s gaze didn’t waver. "She passed seventeen times perfectly. The formal refinement should let her reach the peak of seventeenfold. The issues from raising the grade of the essence extraction solution—she should be able to overcome them. If you want more than others, you have to pay more than others."

Sang Sang, clad in an energy-conducting silken robe, sat cross-legged in the refinement pool with her eyes closed, letting the primordial energy wash over her.

She didn’t know if it was just her imagination, but the real, unrestrained refinement seemed much harder than the trial. Was this truly seventeenfold concentration?

The moment her thoughts wandered, a few strands of primordial energy almost slipped from her control. She hurried to focus her mind.

This was not a trial—there could be no mistakes.

The trial only allowed the soul’s consciousness to sense the pain of refinement; it didn’t act on the body itself. The true refinement, however, was a terrifying ordeal.

Pain—excruciating pain.

It was as if her body was being burned from the outside in. Her skin was the first to rupture, blood spurting. Then muscle and meridians followed, dissolving along with her clothes under the onslaught of primordial energy. Next, her organs... Sang Sang guided the energy into her bones. By this point, she was nothing but a skeleton, with only the core of mental power in her skull gleaming faintly—the undying flame of her soul the only proof she was still alive.

Outside, Aslan and Elf Boya both held their breath—this was the most dangerous moment. If her consciousness faltered, it would mean real death. Even if flesh and bone could be revived afterwards, she would have lost the chance to progress any further—she would never reach the Profound rank.

But if she endured, her bones would evolve, and flesh would be reborn.

"This is a leap in evolution—bone jadeification, gene restructuring!" Sena’s face was alight with joy, but suddenly his smile froze, his expression turning panicked with shock. "Her bones seem to be melting. Are you sure the trial solution wasn’t tampered with?"

Within the refinement pool, Sang Sang felt as though her entire body was melting. And it truly was: first her limbs softened like wax into a puddle, then her pelvis and ribs, and soon her spine also dissolved, leaving only a skull lying in the bone-mud. Even that remaining skull was slowly deforming.

"Something’s wrong—stop the process!" Sena tried to forcibly interrupt the refinement.

"Don’t move," said Aslan, raising a hand to block him, while Boya restrained Sena.

"She’s about to die! This is murder!" Sena growled, frowning.

"Beyond gene restructuring lies gene remolding," Aslan replied without turning, eyes fixed on the melting Sang Sang as if she were a peerless treasure, his gaze shining bright. "To remold a body perfectly attuned to the soul."

Sena looked as if he’d seen a ghost. "But that only happens at concentrations above twentyfold!"

Boya released him, glanced at Aslan, and sighed. "The world essence she used was extracted from the roots of the World Tree."

Sena drew a sharp breath. World essence came from the elves’ mother tree—the World Tree. The elves themselves were a rare race; in the entire universe, fewer than twenty World Trees were known, with only twelve mature enough to yield essence. Each tree shed leaves only once every millennium, and the essence extracted from those leaves amounted to just a few dozen liters. But the roots could only be trimmed once every ten thousand years, each time yielding at most a few dozen milliliters of essence.

Adding world essence to the refinement solution not only increased absorption but also made it possible to leapfrog evolutionary stages. And the root essence guaranteed such an advance.

Sena now looked at Sang Sang with unconcealed envy.

At that moment, all the bones in Sang Sang’s body had melted into a small puddle of liquid, with her core of mental power glowing within.

In the faint light, the liquid slowly wrapped around the core, trembling within the primordial energy. Gradually, the erratic tremors became strong, rhythmic pulses—like a heartbeat.

It was an embryo, growing at a speed visible to the naked eye. The fetus gradually took shape, lacking only an umbilical cord. Limbs began to form, facial features grew clear, hair sprouted. The curled-up child’s eyelashes quivered, as if she might open her eyes at any moment.

Sang Sang could hear the sound of her bones growing, and even had the idle thought that if she got any taller, she wouldn’t look like a Galaxian anymore. At some point, she no longer needed to control the primordial energy herself—her body had learned to absorb and guide it automatically, every cell drinking it in like a parched sponge.

Her body was now a bottomless pit, but the primordial energy had its limits. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually it grew thin. Even with guidance techniques, only scattered energy could be drawn in, while her body still felt insatiably hungry.

Sang Sang opened her eyes. The next moment, she saw her new body. With a sudden grasp, she conjured a massive sphere of water, forming a blue curtain that transformed into cloth draped over her. Only then did she think to condense a water mirror again.

Her hands really were smaller—it wasn’t an illusion. The person in the water mirror had a three-heads-high frame and looked no older than three, cheeks round and plump, irresistibly cute.

"The records said that above fifteenfold, the body might shrink, but not this much. So the melting wasn’t a hallucination after all." Sang Sang glanced at the three beyond the partition wall, placed her hand on the blue fabric made of water, and closed her eyes to concentrate.

The blue cloth contracted, transforming into a short, cross-collared tunic and long trousers.

Her affinity for energy had grown—not just for water, but for other elements as well, including space-time. Though untested, she could sense that time and space no longer needed to be forcibly harmonized—she could truly fuse them now.

"Congratulations on setting the highest refinement record in two centuries. How do you feel?"

The partition dissolved, and the three entered. Sena handed over the spatial container he had been guarding, offering his congratulations like a part-time reporter fishing for bold statements.

"Thank you," Sang Sang replied, suppressing her lingering dread. She wrapped the long spatial container around herself a few times, took out a dress she’d prepared for Greenbud, put it on, and smiled. "To survive death and be reborn."

"Indeed, death and rebirth," Sena agreed, breaking into laughter when he saw her tilt her head, her small face creased in a frown, cheeks puffed, her voice still tinged with childishness. "You finally look your age now."

Sang Sang looked down, but she knew well enough—in advanced civilizations, people outgrew their stubby frames by age twenty, practically elementary graduates by then.

"All right, you did shrink a little too much. It probably has to do with your original gene grade being too low, and you haven’t yet developed drug resistance. The effects of the refinement were especially strong," Aslan said, shrugging as he moved beside Aslan to check the results from the refinement pool. "Well? Which way did the genetic evolution lean? Energy talent?"