Cultivating Immortality :I Obtained The Villain's Ascension Code
Chapter 54: The Secret of the Second Nascent Soul
CHAPTER 54: THE SECRET OF THE SECOND NASCENT SOUL
To cultivate a Nascent Soul was to take the first true step toward transcendence.
At this realm, the soul became semi-independent—able to leave the body, possess others, refine treasures with will alone, and even survive the destruction of the physical vessel for a time. It was a realm feared and respected across the cultivation world.
But to cultivate a Second Nascent Soul... that was another matter entirely.
So what is a Second Nascent Soul?
In essence, it is the creation of a second complete soul avatar—another consciousness cultivated from the same Divine Soul origin as the primary Nascent Soul, yet refined independently. The cultivator splits off a portion of their will and spirit, then nurtures it over decades or even centuries until it forms a second Nascent Soul that mirrors the original in essence, though weaker in strength.
According to the scattered records, a cultivator who succeeded in forging a second soul would not merely possess a backup—but another self entirely.
In the face of certain doom, the second soul could be abandoned like a lizard’s tail, made to explode or dissipate as though it were the original. Its death could fool enemies, spirit-sensing artifacts, and even fate-detecting Heavenly Secrets. More than once in history, a famed elder thought slain had returned decades later under a different name, walking freely among enemies who believed him long dead.
More profound still was the Dual Path Cultivation. While the first soul delved into the mysteries of fire, lightning, or sword essence, the second might be sent to cultivate wood, water, or ice. In a single lifetime, two Daos could be pursued—paths that would take most cultivators two lifetimes to walk.
Some daring souls had even housed the second self within constructs—puppets, treasures, or yin-blood clones—allowing it to travel elsewhere, battle on separate fronts, or meditate in seclusion while the original roamed freely. It was said that such cultivators could hold conversations with themselves or appear simultaneously in two domains.
Finally, there was one merit both feared and revered.
If the second soul bore a new identity, then to the Heavens and all who read fate-lines, it was a new man. Bloodlines techniques could no longer track him. Even soul-binding oaths could sometimes be undone.
To truly escape the past—was that not every cultivator’s secret desire?
And yet, no gain in this world came without cost.
The first was the most obvious: Soul Instability.
To divide the soul was to wound it. No matter how perfect the method, the pain would be unbearable, and the backlash immense. Some who attempted it never woke again, their minds broken like fractured jade. Others survived, but found their thoughts slowed and memories leaking like sand through fingers.
Even among the successful, many found themselves haunted by dissonance. Though both souls were originally one, they would—over years and decades—form their own wills, habits, and desires. One might seek vengeance, the other peace. One might love, the other loathe. And when the divergence reached its peak... internal war began.
Cultivators called this state Soul Madness. Most who reached this point perished by their own hands—or worse, had one soul devour the other.
Then came the greatest peril: Heavenly Tribulation Confusion.
Heaven watched all. When a cultivator of dual soul walked the stage of ascension, the Tribulation would often hesitate—then strike twice.
The Heavens, uncertain of whether to treat the man as one soul or two, would err on the side of punishment. Lightning fell heavier. Fire raged wilder. More than one promising genius had perished beneath these doubled calamities.
And finally, there was the last and most insidious trap: Permanent Dao Deviation.
The Second Soul was not just a tool—it was a mirror. If the cultivator failed to balance the cultivation of both, or if one soul outpaced the other by too far, the Dao heart would shatter at higher realms. The cultivator would become trapped eternally at the Nascent Soul stage, unable to reach the Divine Transformation Realm.
And even if one possessed the courage to brave these dangers, there was still the matter of resources.
Even in the golden age of cultivation, such an act demanded preparation beyond the reach of ordinary cultivators. Without the aid of heaven-defying treasures, even attempting the technique would result in complete soul collapse.
According to scattered entries in the oldest almanacs and jade slips passed down from the era of Immortal Courts, only a handful of methods had ever existed that could achieve such a feat. And each of them demanded the aid of a singular, extraordinary treasure—without which even the most talented cultivator would be courting death.
First was the Soul Splitting Lotus — a rare spiritual flower said to bloom but once every five thousand years atop a lake untouched by wind or moonlight.
When refined, its essence could temporarily divide the Divine Soul in a painless, dreamlike state. The cultivator would then meditate beside the lotus flame, and if successful, a second soul would bloom within their sea of consciousness—like a twin embryo born in silence.
This was the Soft Division Method, prized for its gentleness but nearly impossible due to the rarity of the lotus.
Second, the Void Ice Jade Marrow — a crystalline essence formed deep within glacial veins at the edge of the Spirit Void.
By isolating a portion of their True Spirit and preserving it within the marrow for a hundred years, a cultivator could nurture it into an independent soul. This method, known as the Frozen Core Refinement, demanded patience and absolute stillness—traits few possessed.
Third, the Mirror of Nine Fates — An ancient artifact lost since the fall of the Immortal Rain Dynasty. It was said to reflect not the physical form but the karmic image of one’s soul across all lifetimes.
Cultivators who stood before the mirror and invoked a forbidden incantation could draw out a reflection of their own spirit—and if they survived the backlash, the copy could be anchored as a second soul. This was the Reflection Rebirth Method, famed for its swiftness—but the cost was severe: one mistake, and the reflection would devour the original.
And last, the Black Phoenix Blood Ink — a divine ink brewed from the heartblood of an extinct mythical beast, this ink could inscribe a Soul Severing Contract upon one’s very spirit.
Those who dared use it would undergo a violent ritual, forcibly carving their soul in two under oath. If successful, the second soul would be born as a spirit-brand, bearing the traits of the original yet free to grow on its own. Known as the Contract Severance Path, it was the most brutal of all—and the most common method among heretical cultivators and demonic sects.
Elder Zhou’s heart stirred. "No wonder... no wonder his aura now feels deeper, more refined. Like fire tempered by the void, maybe he used the void ice jade marrow."
Elder Qian nodded in his heart as if reading Elder Zhou’s thoughts. "The soul that died must’ve been the secondary one. A shell soul. He used it to deceive everyone..."