C1 I will Possess You for No Reason

"You think you have a chance with the new campus beauty, Chen Ling? You clearly don't know your own limits. Just a country bumpkin who believes that getting into a university means you've made it big, right? Well, let me set you straight: Ineron is no backwater town. This place is full of hidden talents. You're just a little ant, so stay in your lane. Lay a finger on the woman I'm interested in, and you'll have only one choice: a beating!"

With his reddish-brown hair slicked up and a high nose, the boy wasn't fat but had a bit of a belly. He stood with his arms crossed, looking down disdainfully at the skinny boy curled up on the ground, hands over his head like a shrimp.

This was a dark corner of Diaton University, where late at night, behind the dim light of street lamps, several burly men were beating the boy on the ground. No one could see them, and even if they could, no one would dare intervene. Han Xiaotian, a notorious bully at Diaton University with influential family connections in business and government, was not someone to be trifled with. Who would risk defending a nobody from a poor background, especially when the semester had just begun?

"Am I... entering the Communicating with Deity phase?" he wondered.

But something felt off. "Isn't the Communicating with Deity phase supposed to feel liberating, with the soul free to leave the body for the first time? So why do I feel more constrained, surrounded by darkness, unable to even use the Communicating with Deity Eye?"

What troubled him even more was the pain. "Why does it feel like I'm being kicked by ordinary people? Is this some kind of illusion? Since reaching the Soulforge state, no one has dared to fight me with mere fists and feet. This isn't just an attack—it's an insult!"

Ye Rong was utterly confused. He had endured countless trials and tribulations to reach the pinnacle of the Soulforge phase. He had invested heavily in a Soul Connecting Pill, preparing meticulously to break through to the Communicating with Deity phase. The difference between the two phases was stark: the former was mere physical cultivation, while the latter was divine cultivation, entering the esteemed realm of the big master. Many spent their whole lives unable to cross this threshold. Ye Rong had finally glimpsed hope, only to be inexplicably thrust into this predicament.

"No matter if this is an illusion or not, I'm going to send each of you flying!"

Ye Rong, feeling the repeated pain, opened his eyes in fury. He was merely a cultivator with average talent, lacking any influential support. Through sheer perseverance and keeping a low profile, he had painstakingly advanced to the Soulforge stage within the ruthless Cultivation World. Just as he was beginning to experience a modicum of prestige upon nearing the Communicating with Deity state, he found himself being thrashed by a few commoners. The stark contrast between his expectations and reality ignited the rage he had bottled up over the years.

"Sword, come forth!"

With a sudden burst of energy, he sat up and called out in anger. He summoned the Iceshadow flying sword he had crafted during his solid body phase. Despite its modest three-inch size due to his financial constraints, it was more than capable of slicing through these ordinary men as if they were mere children.

But nothing happened. Aside from his straining eyes managing to discern a bit more of his surroundings, there was no response.

Several burly men stood around him, clad in uniform black attire, their affiliation a mystery. In the distance, a tall building loomed, with people laughing and playfully sparring, devoid of any lethal intent. Even further away, a pale crescent moon hung in the sky, accompanied by stars so dim it felt like the end of the world to Ye Rong. Could such a faint moon and stars offer even a sliver of spiritual energy to absorb?

This spiritual energy was so weak that it wouldn't suffice for even the initial stages of Soulforge, let alone Communicating with Deity.

"What did he say? Did you catch that?" one of the men in black asked his companion.

"Well... it sounded like... 'sword'? Unless I heard wrong."

"Bursting into laughter, another man chimed in, "This kid must have lost his mind from the beating!"

"Fear not. He's still got enough strength to sit up, so let's keep at it! With Mr. Han backing us, what's there to worry about?"

What the hell? They're gearing up to hit me again? Ye Rong glared at the group of muscular men closing in on him. "I'll remember your organization. You'd better weigh your actions carefully!"

"Remember... the organization?"

"More like remembering Mr. Han's estate. Hahaha, I want it etched in your memory for a lifetime! You're nothing but a poor country bumpkin, and you'll never even come close to matching Mr. Han's toes. And don't forget this slap of mine! This kid has provided me with plenty of amusement today."

The man's slap was indeed massive, almost covering half of Ye Rong's face as it swept toward him like a giant fan. But in that instant, Ye Rong narrowed his eyes.

Communicating with Deity, yet the Deity remains silent.

Solid body, yet it cannot solidify.

Ye Rong didn't understand why, but he felt as though he had lost all his cultivation. However, Ye Rong had more than just a Deity connection and a solid body—he had experience!

Experience honed through countless real battles, sharpening his reflexes!

When he was on the ground, unable to react, being kicked was humiliating. But now that he was alert, for you to still use such clumsy punches and kicks, that's just embarrassing yourself!

Flaws! Flaws! Flaws! They were everywhere!

To an ordinary person who hadn't even reached the solid body stage, their body was riddled with lethal points! No matter how muscular you might be, exposing such vulnerabilities so openly to an opponent is practically a death wish.

Yet under that fan-like slap, Ye Rong remained unflinching and dodged at the last possible moment. He delivered a punch to the black-clad man's abdomen, precisely three inches below the navel—not the width of a finger, but exactly 3.33 centimeters, a spot that could end a lineage!

"Ah...!" A blood-curdling scream erupted as the lethal point was struck. Such agony was unbearable for the average person. Even though Ye Rong felt weak and his strength made him grimace, it was still enough to incapacitate the muscular man.

This was the inherent weakness in human combat, and it underscored why the first steps in cultivation—body refining, Iron Body, and Tempered Might—must be practiced in order, though they can be approached flexibly. These stages are essential before one can advance to Soulforge. Of course, there are exceptions, but for Ye Rong, a mere ordinary cultivator, such exceptions were too remote to even consider.

The burly man in black, having his lethal point shattered, collapsed to his knees, drenched in sweat. Clutching the compromised spot, he writhed on the ground, unable to utter another cry.

Ye Rong could have delivered a second, third, or even a fourth punch, sealing the man's fate. But he refrained, sensing something amiss.

The hands were not his own.

The strength was not his own.

These hands were too small, too slender compared to his. While his own hands weren't particularly large or rough, they were warm and healthy. In contrast, these hands were barely more than skin and bones, albeit well-shaped, but alarmingly thin.

The strength was lacking too. With just one punch, waves of pain and fatigue overwhelmed him, giving him a sense of life slipping away. Facing so many opponents, he knew he couldn't possibly defeat them all.

What was happening? Ye Rong's brow furrowed. As a cultivator on the cusp of the Communicating with Deity realm, someone who was nearly a big master, he recognized this wasn't an illusion.

This felt like a case of possession, as described in ancient texts. Had something gone awry with his soul during his transition to the Communicating with Deity Stage, leading to an accidental possession of another's body?

Yet, if an ordinary person were to be possessed, they would resist. Why had there been no resistance?

There was only one explanation: the moment his soul entered, the host's soul had already perished. Perhaps his soul's death had even drawn Ye Rong's wandering spirit to take refuge.

The instigator of the host's soul's demise was likely among these men in black.

To inhabit another's body and avenge their grievances became Ye Rong's path to survival. He tightened his fists, his gaze icy and sharp, radiating a lethal intent that made Han Xiaotian shiver involuntarily. This kid, who hailed from an impoverished small town with no family influence and a timid nature, was the type who obediently focused on his studies and often endured bullying. Now, he was displaying a ferocity that instilled a flicker of fear in Han Xiaotian.

"Come on! Beat him to death!" Han Xiaotian bellowed in rage. How could a poor country boy, someone others treated like clay to be molded at will, instill fear in the young master of the Han family? It was a disgrace!

The men in black, upon receiving their leader's command, eagerly closed in, fists ready and anticipation gleaming in their eyes.

Ye Rong surveyed them briefly and then cast an almost casual glance at Han Xiaotian, the only one not clad in black, issuing orders from behind.

As fists and feet were about to fly and the battle was on the brink of eruption, a commanding voice pierced the air.

"Stop!"

A woman's silhouette emerged beneath the streetlamp, her long black hair dancing with the breeze, her slender waist seemingly a mere handful. Her flowing garments did little to conceal the contours of her figure.

She appeared ethereal, like a goddess descended.

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