Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God-Novel

There were a few things working in Dyon’s favor. But, unfortunately, there was much more working against him right now.

His first instinct was to immediately use his soul power to the maximum level to heal his body, but there were a few issues with that. But, none were more important than the fact the only reason he hadn’t died was because of Zabia.

How ironic. The person responsible for putting him in this situation was also the only one giving him a possible out.

During Zabia’s last attack, he had stopped time flow completely around Dyon. This was because without time flow, death qi became completely useless. As Zabia had thought at the time: How could there be any death without time progression?

This was an absolutely domineering and heaven defying technique that was currently costing Zabia his very life, despite the small scale it was being used on.

However, even with the sacrifice of his life, Zabia was still completely unable to lock Dyon’s soul in time : although he had been able to slow it significantly. Which meant that if Dyon so wished it, he could tear through this film of time-stop by exerting pressure on it with his soul. But… There-in lied a problem…

As soon as Dyon removed this time-stop, his body would speed toward death immediately. He didn’t have the confidence to ensure that he could preserve his life before that occurred. He would have to reconstruct all of his inner organs first, at a minimum! With how powerful Dyon’s body was now, even with his Saint soul, that was too tall a task. It would take him at least half an hour, even if he was minimalistic and quick.

In the end, this meant that Dyon’s one saving grace was also acting like a ticking time bomb. The more time that passed, the more likely the time-stop would shatter without Zabia’s power backing it. Then Dyon would have no choice but to try his luck… and likely die.

‘Think dammit!’

Clones were useless. Even if he created a 75% clone, it still had to be powered by his original soul, that was simply how the technique worked. If he tried to stuff his soul into the body of a clone, it would implode. Dyon’s body was already strained enough carrying a saint soul, let alone if that body was suddenly 25% weaker.

And that was not to mention if that idea would even be feasible. Dyon didn’t have the experience separating his soul from his body that Arios had. He had no idea if it would be possible. And, even if it was possible, would his clone really survive such a process? Such a risk was ridiculous to take.

Dyon’s next thought was the Demon Sage’s technique. Hadn’t he extended the life of the demon generals by thousands of years, even to the point of stopping their aging completely, in exchange for their sanity and looks? Maybe he could use that technique?

But then, Dyon shook his head again. That technique required a level of body cultivation expertise maybe only the Demon Sage had ever had. That was not to mention the fact he didn’t know the technique, nor was he powerful enough to execute. Such a heaven defying technique, even with the concessions that were needed to be made, could definitely only be executed by a half step transcendent like the demon sage.

Dyon’s next thought was even wilder than the next. Wasn’t the Dragon King’s faith seed still here? He had been flooded with images the moment he formed a true connection with his weapon, but the Dragon King had fully submitted to him. However, that didn’t meant that the Dragon King wasn’t capable of taking over his body if Dyon wished it… right?

The reason the Dragon King had submitted to Dyon, despite his otherworldly pride, was because when he forged his remnant into a weapon, he had taken on the aspects and aesthetics of a weapon soul. In every way, shape and form, no matter how much he remembered his previous life and glory, in the moment now, he was nothing but a weapon : one difficult to control and win over, yes… But, still wholly a weapon.

This was the price the Dragon King had to pay in order to continue to play his games in this plane of existence. Usually, the Dragon King was able to ignore its nature, because by all rights, it really never came across a worthy owner. As a man who had transcended and forged his Faith Seed into a weapon, how many could really be worthy to own him?

However, Dyon was a complete anomaly even the Dragon King couldn’t have ever thought of. This was a young man with the accumulated weapon talent of billions of people across millennia. The will to submit by the Dragon King so far outweighed his ability to fight back, that Dyon had barely had to fight back against him. It was even to the point where Dyon had never even felt the presence of the Dragon King.

But… There was a problem with this approach too. If Dyon allowed the Dragon King into his body, he would definitely cease being tied down by the laws of a weapon! It would have a completely new bridge by which to operate… Dyon’s body!

The other option was to do what his master had done… If Dyon allowed his soul to reach a severely weakened state, he could house his soul in the body of someone he trusted until they then came across a technique capable of reconstructing a body for him. In fact, that process might be easy for him considering how many body cultivating resources he had access to. In fact, considering who the Demon Sage was, he might, himself, already have a body construction technique. In fact, wouldn’t a powerful sect like the celestial deer sect have access to such a technique as well? Considering he wouldn’t be in shape to take the trials of the demon sage to earn that technique, his master’s sect was a good alternative.

The more he thought about that last possibility, the more it seemed to be the best route for him. However, there was still a problem with this… Like Dyon had thought previously, souls couldn’t exist without a body until it reached the celestial level. So, the question was could Dyon even do this? His master could house herself within him without having to rely on his body’s strength because her soul was strong enough, but would the people Dyon trusted enough to do this with be able to carry the burden of both his and their soul?…

Dyon descended into a torrent of curses again, ‘FUCK!’

Was he really going to die like this?