The metal puppet had been lent by Ye Liuyun to Ye Tiandao so he could hone his saber intent. Now that Ye Tiandao’s saber intent had once again pulled slightly ahead of Ye Liuyun’s, the puppet was the perfect tool for him to close the gap.

Those who had already grasped their own Daos began sparring with one another, then settled into cultivation, preparing to return to the Crossing-Bridge Star System and fight anew.

Leading everyone, Ye Liuyun threw himself into an all-around training push; for the moment there would be no more expeditions.

While comprehending spatial Dao-intent, he noticed that the expert inside the stone pillar showed him spaces that shrank and swelled, leaped near or drifted far—something none of the others had seen during their cultivation. Fortunately a human soul was giving this demonstration; he could ask questions.

The expert answered every one:

“Spatial Dao-intent is simply understanding and applying spatial force

Spatial force itself is nothing more than relative changes in position, size and distance. Once you grasp the essence of those relative changes, all that remains is practice.”

“Your spatial power is strong, so what I show you differs from what they see—none of theirs approaches yours. Even my strongest spatial force isn’t much beyond yours; it’s like a pane of paper—poke it and it breaks. How much you gain depends on you.”

“The essence of relative change?” Ye Liuyun repeated for confirmation.

“Exactly,” said the expert. “You can already sense spatial barriers and touch these spaces; master the essence and every transformation becomes mind-directed.”

To illustrate, he demonstrated how his soul could swell or shrink, drift away or draw close, shift position—all while letting Ye Liuyun watch how each space changed simultaneously.

Under such clear guidance everything suddenly looked simple: inflate his own space and he grew larger; compress nearby space and everything inside shrank with it. Distance shifts and positional jumps followed the same rule—alter his own space or alter surrounding space; results were identical.

All spatial change was relative—only a question of which layer he chose to manipulate—and every tier of void unfolded before him. Each relative shift triggered chain reactions across other layers that he could perceive at once.

Spatial force now seemed trivial: he could relocate himself at will; barriers that once trapped him were pierced effortlessly by slipping through different void layers.

He recalled being sealed by an array disc that froze entire voids and asked how to counter such traps in future.

“A sealed void is still a barrier—it just blocks every passage at once,” explained the expert while conjuring a closed pocket-void around them. “But barrier thickness differs by layer; higher layers are weaker under seal. Attack from Ninth Void outward: let external space press inward until it bursts open.”

“If your strength falls short for now,” he added, “you can still tear Ninth-Void walls with raw force.” He demonstrated: external pressure ripped a huge gash in Ninth-Void’s wall—the outer expanse dwarfed the sealed pocket and crushed it easily.

Ye Liuyun tried immediately but lacked enough power yet; only managed a thin crack across its surface.

“You understand principle,” nodded the expert. “Practice will fix strength.”

More demonstrations followed until finally returning into his pillar with final words: train slowly on your own thereafter.

Ye Liuyun began at once—growing large then small, shifting near then far at will; slipping freely into others’ storage rings even sparring with clones inside each other’s inner worlds (never daring intrude on strangers’ realms lest they suspect prying).

Next came attacks performed effortlessly—a slash whose blade-light expanded or shrank as desired—even using spatial force upon his soul itself so its strikes became sharper still.

After days spent thus refining every motion he finally paused

He suddenly remembered the crimson battle armor he had found in the Blue Whale’s treasure vault—armor he had never managed to subdue. He wondered if the Myriad-God Token could tame it. So he took the suit out, compressed its space until it shrank, and drew it into his sea of consciousness.

The moment the red armor entered, the golden light of the Myriad-God Token washed over it, and its savage aura instantly withdrew. When Ye Liuyun sent out a strand of divine sense to communicate, the armor immediately acknowledged him as master without the slightest resistance.

Only after the armor recognized him did Ye Liuyun learn that it had been forged from a mighty expert’s very source power, soul, bloodline, and the metals of his own flesh—an armor the creator had named War God.

Once fully fused with him, the armor would advance alongside his cultivation, nourished and upgraded by his various energies without ever depleting them.

“There’s actually a powerhouse who refined an entire lifetime’s essence into armor—and it can evolve with me?”

Ye Liuyun was stunned.

When he released the armor from his sea of consciousness, it automatically wrapped itself around him, letting him experience every one of its abilities.

He discovered that the armor could autonomously unleash soul force, bloodline pressure, and its own imposing might for offense or defense, acting with remarkable initiative.

“Truly a priceless treasure! But bright-red armor is far too conspicuous for daily wear—I’ll have to put you away for now.”

Though satisfied with its functions, he had no wish to parade the eye-catching suit in front of others.

Sensing his thoughts, the armor didn’t leave his body; instead, it sank into his skin, forming an invisible second layer over his surface—like an extra sheath of skin that didn’t hinder any movement.

The War God armor then informed Ye Liuyun that keeping it in this hidden state would let it become more attuned to his aura, accept nourishment from all his powers, and fuse with him more thoroughly—so that when battle came, it could unleash even greater might.