Merin stops absorbing dream energy, redirecting it instead to nourish and stabilise his real body. The reservoir of energy he's gathered is vast—more than enough to forge five dream keys. He doesn't hesitate. Time is fluid in the dreamscape, but his urgency is real. He decides not to delay further.
With practiced focus, Merin shapes the dream energy into five translucent keys, each one pulsing softly in his palm. One by one, he releases them. The keys shimmer and vanish, traveling into the hidden corridors of the dream domains belonging to potential allies—or tools.
Even if he gains no insights into how to break through the next cultivation realm beyond the mortal realm, it matters little. Five more dream-bound members will help him harvest more energy faster. And with that, he may finally be able to learn and cultivate the Iron Shield spell—a powerful defence technique. Despite Ivy providing him with the energy circuit from the Ironback Ape, it still eludes him. Something essential in its nature does not resonate with his mind.
Seconds pass.
Then, four black portals bloom silently into existence within Merin's dream domain, each a swirling gate into another soul's private world. Without delay, Merin lets his consciousness drift into the first.
What he sees leaves him stunned.
The dream is bleak—muted colours, oppressive silence, shadows of guilt and shame lurking behind every imagined wall. The boy whose dream this is lives a life of constant ridicule, disappointment, and self-hate. His memories—fractured, warped by repeated failures—echo throughout the dreamscape.
Merin observes, unblinking.
A grin slowly forms on his face.
This boy isn't just vulnerable—he's malleable. If the day comes when the one behind the black energy decides to dispose of Merin, this boy could be the perfect vessel. A body with nothing to live for and no will to resist.
Merin watches the boy's dream self sit in silence, back against a broken wall, staring at the grey sky of his own mind.
"Yes," Merin murmurs to himself, voice low and calm. "This is an opportunity that only comes once."
In the boy's dream, he stands at the edge of a rooftop, wind tugging at his clothes, his eyes empty. He imagines jumping—imagines his body crumpled on the ground below. In his thoughts, there's a bitter hope that his death might make those around him finally regret their indifference. That maybe, in death, he'll be seen.
Merin watches it all, detached but thoughtful. If he's willing to throw his life away… why not give it to me instead?
Among the many spells sealed within the Dream Chapter, one stands out now: Dream Possession. A forbidden technique that allows one to seep into another's body through their dreams, slowly eroding their soul, turning them into a puppet—a clone. A perfect shell.
He hadn't dared to use this on the first group of dream-bound followers. They were all ordinary people except the black servant, but they were only one realm below him, strong enough to resist or at least struggle. Worse, their dreams were filled with hope—ambitions of glory, revenge, and future strength. Even if their willpower wasn't unbreakable, it was still firm.
But this boy...
He dreams only of dying.
He dreams of being forgotten.
And with the growing instability of the black energy, he needs to prepare an escape—a new body. The boy is ideal. Fragile. Hollow. Barely clinging to existence.
Within the dream, Merin shifts—leaves the rooftop scene, slipping deeper into the boy's mind. The landscape blurs, folding in on itself as he descends into the spiritual world hidden behind the dream. There, he senses the flickering presence of the boy's consciousness, weak, like a candle about to go out.
Merin's voice rings out, smooth and cold.
"You want to die."
The boy startles. His dream collapses, and he stands alone in an infinite void. He looks around, eyes wide with fear. "What was that…?"
He tells himself it was just another voice in his head.
But the voice returns—closer, clearer.
"You want to die. Then why not give this body to me?"
The boy freezes. A chill crawls up his spine. "Who… who are you?" he whispers, his voice trembling.
The voice answers, smooth and low, "There's no need for you to know. What matters is this—I can give you what you always wanted. If you give me your body, I'll fulfil every dream you buried. Not just your mother, father, or your wife... the whole world will know your name. They'll admire you."
The boy's eyes widen. "Really…?" Then he hesitates. "But I'm dying. Even if you take my body, you'll die too. There's cold poison in me."
Merin hadn't seen that detail in the boy's dream. A flaw. But one that doesn't matter.
Once the boy becomes his clone, he'll have control. With his cultivation level, a poison that kills mortals might just be a puzzle waiting to be solved.
The voice speaks again, firm, unwavering. "It may be a life-or-death curse for you. But for me, it's nothing."
The boy stares into the void, fragile hope rising in his hollow chest. "Then… can you heal me?"
"Why should I?" Merin replies. "I'm not here to grant you favours. This is the last time I'll ask. Will you give me your body, or not?"
The boy slumps, defeated. A whisper escapes his lips. "You'll make my name… known across the world?"
"Yes."
The boy closes his eyes. "Then… take it. Take my body."
Merin wastes no time. Before doubt can return, he begins the spell—Dream Possession.
His consciousness stretches like mist, wrapping around the boy's fading presence. The spiritual world starts to shift. Runes from the Dream Chapter swirl into existence, embedding themselves into every corner of the boy's mindscape. The original consciousness-weak, exhausted, flickers once more, then vanishes without resistance.
Only Merin remains.
He expands, filling every inch of the spiritual world. The runes burn bright, then sink into the spiritual barrier, marking full control.
The boy's body is now his.
Before opening his new eyes in the waking world, Merin lingers within the spirit sea, drawing in the boy's final echoes—memories laced with heartbreak, quiet despair, and resignation.
The boy's name was Situ Xing.
He was born in the Holy Fire Empire, the eldest son of a merchant household. For a time, just a year, he knew love. His parents adored him, smiled when he cried, and lifted him into the sun.
Then came his younger brother.
At first, their affection was shared, equal, warm, and whole. But the balance shattered when the younger brother turned six. Unlike Situ Xing, he showed talent in cultivation. While Situ Xing did not even break through the first realm of extraordinary even after years of trying, the younger brother advanced quickly.
Their merchant family, while loving, was practical. They needed a cultivator to protect their wealth, their lineage, and their standing. As the younger brother's light grew, Situ Xing's shadow deepened.
Still, he did not hate. He did not envy. He understood.
When he was ten, a new family moved into the house next door. They had a daughter his age. Situ Xing fell in love the moment he saw her. And for years, they grew up together—laughing, playing, walking beneath lantern-lit streets.
But she fell in love with his brother.
She never said it. She didn't have to.
When they all turned eighteen, the younger brother left home, perhaps aware of his elder brother's feelings, or maybe for his own ambitions. Whatever the reason, he disappeared to wander the world and cultivate further.
Situ Xing, heart uncertain but hopeful, asked his parents to propose marriage to the girl's family. And for reasons he still didn't fully understand… she said yes.
They were married within a month.
A year passed.
She never let him touch her.
He respected her boundaries, loved her still, but in silence, the truth hollowed him out. He was her husband in name alone.
Then came the cold poison.
A hidden affliction, creeping through his veins like frostbite on the soul. No cure, no hope. Not for someone like him.
And so, before the poison could take his life, he decided to take it himself. Not out of anger, but to escape quietly, without burdening anyone.
Now, Merin opens his eyes.
Situ Xing is no more. But his body—his name—belongs to Merin.
Merin absorbs every thread of Situ Xing's memory, weaving them seamlessly into his own consciousness. That was why he needed the boy's consent—why he approached through the dream, calmly and without force. If he had seized the body through conflict, if the boy had resisted, fragments of memory would have shattered. Entire pieces of the boy's life—and more importantly, knowledge of this realm—would have been lost forever.
Now, he has everything.
He understands the land, its customs, the cultivation system… and the looming danger.
The first four stages of cultivation here—Flesh Refining Realm, Bone Refining Realm, Vein Refining Realm, Organ Refining Realm—build a foundation for the body. But what chills him is that every manual, every technique in Situ Xing's memories, warns the same thing:
Do not absorb the energy of the world. It is poisonous.
Now Merin knows why.
The cold poison infecting this body—his body—is a symptom of that very energy. The spiritual essence of the world is corrupted. From the outside, it slips in subtly, like a thief. But once inside, it devours flesh, seeps into bone, and lashes out even at the mind.
Merin focuses his mental energy, brushing against the threads of cold poison. Instantly, he feels it—like icy needles biting back. It gnaws at him not just physically, but spiritually. He understands now: he might feel fine during the day, but when the full moon rises, when the world's energy floods deeper, pain will return like a monster.
One week remains until the next full moon.
He is not afraid of pain.
But he has no desire to feel it.
And yet, no cure lies before him.
No clear solution.
So, Merin turns to what he can do—cultivation.
Before beginning, he splits his consciousness, sending half of it back to his true body. He must maintain control there, after all. The dream domain pulses faintly—three more threads connect to it. Three new people. New chances. Later.
For now, this body demands his focus.
He scours Situ Xing's memories, analysing every technique. With the boy's retained understanding, he quickly identifies his position—on the edge of the first threshold. Just one step away from the Flesh Refining Realm.
To advance, he must refine control over his muscles through precise physical movement. A technique called the Thirty-Six Movement Technique was what Situ Xing had chosen. It requires the practitioner to perform thirty-six sequential motions repeatedly, each stretching, tightening, and commanding every strand of muscle in the body.
Merin smiles faintly.
Situ Xing could already perform all thirty-six movements—but only as isolated motions. He was never able to connect them into a flowing whole. The technique had been created by someone else, tailored to their body, their rhythm. To fit another's form into your own was always imperfect. That was the barrier Situ Xing could never cross.
But Merin is different.
With the knowledge of the varieties of cultivation techniques and the knowledge of human bodies, and with his mind energy, he has already investigated everything about his new body.
He rises, standing in the centre of the dim, creaking room.
And he begins.
The first movement is slow, steady, arm rising, and spine twisting slightly. Next, a shifting of weight across the soles of his feet. Then another. Then another. He moves through the thirty-six motions with careful attention, analysing the flow of tension and release within his muscles.
It is flawed.
So he refines it.
He bends a movement here, tightens a gesture there. Some steps he alters subtly; others, he discards entirely. A few he replaces with movements drawn from memory—fragments of long-lost martial arts he'd seen in the dreams of others, or perhaps remnants of his own body's knowledge.
He repeats the cycle again.
And again.
Time blurs.
Sweat beads on his brow, his breath deepens, but his eyes remain cold and focused. Slowly—almost imperceptibly—the movements begin to change. They no longer feel like pieces stitched together. They begin to flow, one into the next, as if each were born from the last.
Then finally…
Harmony.
The motions no longer feel like movements—they feel like breathing. The technique, once foreign, is now his. A rhythm born of his body. His will.
He exhales, steady.
The threshold of the Flesh Refining Realm begins to crack.
Then, like a silent thread snapping, he feels it. A shackle, invisible yet ever-present, lifts from his body. His muscles feel lighter, more responsive. Yet, to his surprise, no energy forms within his flesh. There is no rush of power, no surge of strength tearing through his veins.
But something has changed.
His control—refined, sharpened—is now absolute. He can move with perfect precision, channel his existing strength with far greater efficiency. What once took brute effort now flows with ease. Each motion becomes purposeful, deliberate. He has not grown stronger, but he can use what he has to its fullest.
More importantly, the spiritual energy that had constantly leaked into his body—the source of the cold poison—has weakened.
He narrows his eyes.
The spiritual energy of this world is poisonous, and the cultivation methods all warn against absorbing it. Yet the standard path still draws energy inward. That means the poison isn't absolute—there must be a way to purify or control it. A method hidden within the progression itself.
He understands now.
To survive—to heal—he must continue cultivating. Not just to grow stronger, but to uncover the secrets buried within the path. If he can climb high enough, this world's poison may become harmless. Reaching higher realms isn't just a matter of power anymore.
It's a necessity.
He has entered the Flesh Refining Realm—but this is only the beginning. To reach the next realm, the Bone Refining Realm, he must first push his body to the peak of the Flesh Refining Realm. Only then can he begin to develop the Black Iron Light within him, a refinement that acts as the foundation for the next stage.
For now, his goal is clear: hone control and forge his flesh as hard as iron.
Merin closes his eyes, steadying his breath. He focuses inward, directing his mind energy to vibrate the muscles of his body. His flesh trembles, resonating for only two seconds before the control slips. He halts, not because of failure, but because he notices something.
A foul-smelling, black liquid oozes from his pores.
Impurities.
Stagnant filth gathered through years of weak living, poor nourishment, and spiritual decay. Before he can refine his flesh, he must drive these out.
He stands and walks calmly to the bathroom. There, in solitude, he resumes the vibration exercise. Each attempt stretches longer than the last. His control tightens. His awareness deepens. He begins to feel something else—something hidden beneath the layers of flesh.
Dark energy.
And then, amid the vibrations, he senses something familiar—bright energy already present within him, buried deep in the muscle memory of the body. He draws it together, guiding it to form a core. It's unstable at first—quivering like a flame in the wind—but as his control increases, the core stabilises.
The Blood Bull Boxing Technique.
He had mastered it within his dream domain, using his conscious will to forge and refine each movement. Now, inside a real body, his mastery takes physical form. His control over this new flesh, already honed to a nuanced realm, allows him to replicate the formation of the technique's power core through a different path.
The method is different, but the result is the same.
Perfect bodily control.
He stops. The last of the surface impurities has been expelled. Any further progress requires an even deeper connection with his flesh. He cleanses himself and scrubs the bathroom to rid it of the foul odour. Once dressed, feeling lighter and stronger than ever, he steps out into the main room.
A knock sounds at the door.
Merin walks over and opens it. One of the household maids stands outside, lowering her head respectfully.
"Master," she says softly, "Madam asks for you in the dining room."
He nods and walks toward the dining room, his pace calm and composed.
Inside, he sees her, Du Yao, his wife. She sits at the table, poised and elegant. Between the smell of freshly prepared food and the light floral fragrance she wears, Merin detects something else—something faint, familiar.
The scent of cleansing.
The same subtle baby-like scent is now coming from his own body after purging impurities.
She had masked it with perfume, enough to fool ordinary people, but not a cultivator. Not someone like him.
She notices him as well, her eyes scanning him briefly before settling with certainty.
"You've advanced to the Flesh Refining Realm," she says.
Merin walks over and sits across from her. He studies her closely now—smooth, flawless skin, jade-colored pupils, soft double eyelids, long and lustrous dark hair. A natural beauty—and unmistakably a cultivator.
Situ Xing's memories stir in him. The boy had wished for this woman to one day accept him, not just as a husband in name, but in truth. He had longed for her love. Merin can't force such feelings, but he can lay the foundation. Acceptance may come over time. After all, Situ Xing's wish had no deadline. As long as they live, there is still time.
"Yes," Merin replies. "And you're in the Flesh Refining Realm too. Why didn't you tell me?"
Du Yao's gaze softens. "I saw how your mood dropped when Chen announced his breakthrough. When he reached the Bone Refining Realm, you locked yourself in your room for an entire day."
Merin shakes his head. "You thought I was jealous of Chen? That I envied his advancement?"
He meets her eyes.
"I wasn't sad because he advanced. I was disappointed in myself for failing to do the same. That day, I locked myself in to train, not to sulk. I wanted to reach the Flesh Refining Realm too. I tried. And I failed."
"If you had told me," he continues, "I would've been happy for you. Yes, sad for myself, but I would've trained harder."
Du Yao nods after a pause. "Then I'm sorry… for not telling you."
They eat in silence after that. No more words, but something between them shifts—a small, silent understanding.
After finishing his meal, Merin returns briefly to his room to clean up. Then he leaves again.
Situ Xing is an adult, and one of his responsibilities is managing one of his father's businesses. He steps into the private carriage waiting by the front gate and gives a simple order.
"To the Golden Goose Restaurant."
The carriage pulls away.
Now that Merin has become Situ Xing, he must take on not just the body, but the life. That means fulfilling Situ Xing's duties, starting with managing the Golden Goose Restaurant.
He arrives just before noon. As expected, the staff bows and greets him respectfully. He nods lightly, saying little, and begins his usual patrol of the restaurant. The routine is familiar from Situ Xing's memories: inspecting the first floor where commoners dine in a lively but orderly manner; checking the second floor, where those who can afford the one-silver-teal reservation fee enjoy privacy and elegance; and finally, reaching the third floor.
The top level contains only three rooms: his private office and two luxurious dining rooms, each reserved only for elite clients willing to pay ten silver teals per meal.
He enters his office, sits down, and begins reviewing the ledgers. Most of the work is arithmetic and cross-checking supplier reports, which are easy for him. Once finished, he leans back, folding his hands.
Now, his thoughts shift.
The Bone Refining Realm.
From Situ Xing's knowledge and his own understanding, Merin sees no conceptual obstacle in reaching the next stage. It's only a matter of time and sufficient resources. With patience, he could advance in a few years.
But time is a luxury he does not want to spend.
To shorten the process, he'll need resources—valuable, rare ones. And while the Situ family is wealthy, he cannot rely entirely on their funds. Doing so might draw attention or suspicion of why he needs so many and rare resources. He needs an independent income source.
His mind explores possibilities. Most are too slow. One path stands out: robbery.
But he quickly rejects the idea of robbing innocent citizens. His conscious will not allow him to rob people nothing to do with him. However, there is another option.
The outskirts of the city are dotted with robber dens—places where criminals gather, hidden from law and society. Robbing them would be swift, profitable, and justifiable. He would not be stealing from the innocent, but reclaiming stolen wealth.
Still, not now. He will act tonight, after darkness falls.
His eyes drift to the window as he reflects on the realm he now lives in.
The Holy Fire Empire—one vast empire surrounded by a hostile world. Its civilisation rests in a fragile oasis protected by holy towers that purify the poisonous spiritual energy shrouding the land. Outside the empire's borders lies the Evil Wasteland, home to dangers, chaos, and beasts mutated and created by the poison.
The empire has stood for ten thousand years without collapse. Not because it lacks enemies, but because of a unique system: twelve powerful forces—sects, clans, or factions—take turns ruling the empire, each holding power for one hundred years. These twelve titanic powers were not always so numerous. At the founding, there were only three. But over the millennia, others have risen, expanding humanity's territory by building holy towers in reclaimed lands, purifying the poison, and establishing new settlements.
This upward path ensures hope. Any force strong enough to challenge the twelve has a chance to become one of them. The empire allows this. Encourages it.
That's how it survives.
Even if hostile factions exist, none dare strike blindly. To destroy the empire, one must overcome all twelve powers.
Merin's fingers tap lightly on the polished desk.
He now lives in a poisoned world. Only by advancing and rising through the realm's harsh structure can he purge the cold poison from his new body.
And perhaps… fulfil the wishes of Situ Xing, whose life he now lives.
That would be the cleanest way forward. To create a power on par with the Twelve Forces of the empire—a new, thirteenth pillar. A name that would echo across the continent: Situ Xing. If that name were to stand beside the greatest cultivators of this world, then Situ Xing's lingering desires would be satisfied, and Merin would be one step closer to his goal.
And why does he still honour the boy's wishes?
After all, he has already taken Situ Xing's body. And as long as the boy's obsession remains—those deep, unresolved desires—Merin's own main consciousness cannot safely return to his original body. Only a fragment controls it now, a tether.
If this body dies, and the obsession remains, then Merin's main consciousness dies with it. The fragment would become dominant—not exactly him, but something shaped from his memories.
Merin made Situ Xing's body his clone because he did not trap it in his main body—the Void Tree—as it could die at any moment if the true master behind the black energy willed it. But that doesn't mean he wants to be bound to Situ Xing's body either. If he fulfils all of Situ Xing's wishes, he will gain two lives. His main consciousness will be freed, allowing him to shift between both bodies at will. Immortality, in a sense. True dual existence.
And the path to that future lies in power.
To create a force capable of rivalling the Twelve, he must rise swiftly. The path is clear—cultivation. Cultivate until the Twelve are forced to acknowledge him. When he reaches their level, the knowledge of the Holy Towers—the foundation of their authority—will no longer be hidden behind layers of secrecy. That truth will come to him on its own.
He exhales softly.
Then closes his eyes to see what has transpired in the dream domain and his main body since his consciousness took over Situ Xing's body.
He enters the dream domain.
And finds himself once more in the familiar Black Hall.
Now, he connects, extending his awareness to observe what occurred after the sliver of his consciousness returned to his original body.
As the connection stabilises, Merin does not focus on the dream domains of the three new members. So, when they entered his consciousness, the spirit of the place, shaped by his will, appeared before them and told them this was a training field created by a great being for the sake of training a select few. Lucky ones like them.
To learn more about these newcomers, the spirit asked them to introduce themselves.
There were two males and one female. Two of them were from races other than human, and the third was also not fully from the human race.
The girl, Valentina, belonged to the blood race from the Blood Spiritual Domain. One of the males, Axel, was a half-human, half-lion orc hybrid. The last, Butian, came from the stone race.
Axel wasn't even sure what realm he was in, his status too uncertain and his past too fragmented. Butian hadn't paid much attention to where he lived either, as he spent most of his time cultivating magic in hopes of stepping into the first realm of the Mortal Path.
After hearing their introductions, the spirit, acting on Merin's intent, told them they were part of a larger group. There were six others like them. They were the second batch of four.
This puzzled them—there were only three present.
The spirit explained: the fourth member was awake and thus could not appear right now.
It also told them that if they wished to meet others within the dream domain, they would have to wait twelve more hours and enter their sleep again. Only then could their consciousnesses align.
After that, they were allowed to explore the benefits of the dream domain—its essence strengthening their spirits, refining their minds, and preparing their foundations.
Having reviewed this, Merin then checked the state of his original body. Everything remained the same. Stable. Unchanged.
Satisfied, he began to prepare to return to Situ Xing's body, when Talun appeared inside the dream domain.
---
Dream Domain-35th
The black-robed figure stood silently, waiting.
Then came the Shadow Serpent. From the sharp flick of his tongue and the intensity in his slitted eyes, Merin could already tell—he had something urgent to say.
Moments later, Sulla appeared, then Omar, then Song Qi, whose entire body jittered with anticipation. Just like the Shadow Serpent.
And then Ivy, eyes wide, presence equally strained.
As soon as they saw everyone gathered, the Shadow Serpent, Song Qi, and Ivy all burst out at once—
"You don't know where I am right now?"
"I have urgent news to share."
"My trial's started—and wait till you hear where it's happening. It'll blow your mind!"
Before any of them could continue, Merin—now in the image of Situ Xing—stepped out of the nearby training hall, coughing once.
The sound snapped their attention toward him.
Sulla narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?"
Merin replied calmly, "I am Situ Xing. I was practising in the training hall and heard from the spirit that the first group who joined the training camp of the great being had appeared. So, I came out to meet you."
Sulla folded her arms. "You're the only one from the second group?"
Merin shook his head. "No, there are three others. But the flow of time in our realms is different. That's why I'm the only one here now."
Sulla frowned. "Then why are you here specifically?"
Merin answered, "I'm taking a noon nap in my world. As I sleep, I find myself here."
He paused, then added, "May I join your conversation?"
The six exchanged glances—silent cues passed among them. After a moment, Ivy nodded. "Join us."
Merin walked forward and stood among them.
Sulla looked to Song Qi. "The urgent news you wanted to share—is it about the competition?"
Song Qi's face lit up, unable to hide his excitement. "Yes! It's about the competition. And more than that—I made it into the top thirty!"
A ripple of congratulations followed from the group.
Talun asked, "What was your final rank?"
Song Qi shook his head, grinning. "The competition stopped once only thirty people were left. But then something unexpected happened—that's what I wanted to share."
He glanced around. "You won't believe where I am right now."
Before anyone could respond, he continued, "After the competition ended, those of us who remained were gathered. Representatives from other sects appeared. Then, three people—powerful ones—tore open the space of our realm and sent us into another mortal realm."
Sulla, Omar, Talun, and even Merin were visibly surprised.
But the Shadow Serpent and Ivy both wore strange expressions.
Merin noticed their reactions immediately—this dream domain was his, after all. He turned his attention toward them.
Sulla turned to Ivy, realisation dawning. "Your trial started already?"
Ivy nodded slowly. Her voice was cautious. "Yes… and the trial is taking place inside another mortal realm."
Song Qi blinked. "What?"
The Serpent hissed, his voice cold. "Same here. I, along with other demons of my clan and other clans of equivalent cultivation, were sent to another mortal realm."
Song Qi says, "The portal through which we entered the new realm looked like a door—like someone tore it open by force. And behind it, a mirror."
Ivy nods. "We also went through a door. Solid wood frame, but it shimmered like a mirror too."
The Shadow Serpent adds, "Our portal was different. It was torn open by a member of the Void Hound Clan."
Hearing that, Merin frowns. Tearing space between realms? That's no small feat. What cultivation realm can do that?
He asks, "Torn open space? What is the cultivation realm of that senior?"
The others turn their attention to the topic, curiosity thick in the air, especially Song Qi and Ivy. Their portals had been formed by arrays and collaboration, not brute force.
The Shadow Serpent answers, "I don't know. But he's definitely above the Demon Core realm. Stronger than my ancestor. He tore space with his claws—like it was nothing."
His eyes narrow in memory. "A white dog, upright like a man. A wooden stick in his mouth. He used both front claws to rip the space apart like cloth."
Merin's mind races, but he focuses again. "You three are in the same mortal realm. What were your missions?"
Song Qi says, "Ours is to build a spiritual temple."
Ivy replies, "Mine is to construct a mage tower."
The Shadow Serpent answers, "We aren't building anything. Our mission is to gather as many demons scattered across the realm and perform a ceremony to connect with the Demon Temple."
Sulla chimes in, "Then you must've learned something about this new realm?"
Song Qi nods. "I spot a human village as their language is different. So, I cannot communicate with them."
The Serpent says, "I appeared in the middle of a jungle. I haven't met anyone I can speak with yet."
Ivy lifts her hand slightly. "I know more. I used a 'Memory Absorption' scroll, issued by my academy's official mage. The realm is called the Tree Realm by its natives."
Everyone leans in.
"There's a massive tree above the clouds, at the centre of the realm. Dozens of kingdoms surround it. Many sub-human races live there too. The memories I absorbed didn't have specific information about their powers, but the general term they use is Ascendant."
She pauses. "Apparently, Ascendants can change parts of their bodies into animal limbs, or transform into wood, metal, stone—whatever nature provides."
Song Qi nods slowly, processing it. Then he asks, "So… you can understand and speak their language now?"
Before Ivy can answer, Merin feels a pull from the real world—a subtle calling, like a thread tightening from a distance. His awareness slips from the dream domain. He returns to his clone's body just as a knock echoes at the door.
"Who?" he asks.
A voice replies, "Sir, I'm Kaswel. Somebody is making trouble in the restaurant."
Merin sighs. "Why come to me? Tell the guards."
Kaswel hesitates. "Sir… the fourth young master of the Tan family and his friends are the ones causing trouble."
At the mention of the Tan family, Merin rises immediately and opens the door. "Didn't they stop bothering us after my brother broke through to the Bone Refining Realm? What now?"
As they head down the hallway, Kaswel speaks behind him. "Among them, I saw two wearing robes of the Sky Eagle Sect."
Merin frowns and checks Situ Xing's memory. Sky Eagle Sect—third-rate, with a sect leader's cultivation of the Bone Refining Realm. The man is old, and odds are high he'll stay in that realm for life. But Chen—his brother—is young, and his chances of reaching the Vein Refining Realm are even higher. Two extremes. The Tan family and the Sky Eagle Sect should both recognise this imbalance. So why stir trouble?
He pushes the thought aside as they reach the middle floor.
A group has gathered. Merin spots the commotion immediately. His presence draws attention. He raises his voice, calm but sharp. "What's happening?"
Tan Ji, noticing Situ Xing descending the stairs, raises his voice for everyone to hear. "Situ Xing! This is how your restaurant serves food? With worms in the dishes?" He lifts a fat worm between two fingers, holding it high like proof of a crime.
Guests murmur. Merin doesn't flinch.
"No other guest found worms in their meals—only you," he says coolly. "And conveniently, from a family we've long been at odds with. I also recall that the Tan family owns their own restaurant. So why feed your guests here?"
He chuckles softly. "Is our food that much better? Or are you here for something else?"
Around them, other diners—locals who know well of the longstanding rivalry—begin whispering among themselves.
Tan Ji's expression turns stiff. His plan, already crumbling, worsens under scrutiny. Since when did Situ Xing start talking like this?
Trying to shift pressure, he raises his voice again. "Even if you won't explain to me, you owe an explanation to these honoured guests from the Sky Eagle Sect. They came for your restaurant's signature dish—the Lotus Lamb. And in that dish, we found the worm."
Merin turns to the two members from the Sky Eagle Sect, his tone polite but firm. "Honoured guests from the Sky Eagle Sect, how about this? I won't charge for the Lotus Lamb you were served. In fact, I'll personally have a new dish prepared and served free of charge. Let this matter end here."
Before either of them can respond, Tan Ji cuts in sharply, "How can the matter finish here?"
Merin's eyes narrow. "Tan Ji, don't push it too far. We all know how that worm got there."
Tan Ji's face darkens. "Are you implying we planted it?" He turns toward the Sky Eagle disciples. "Brothers, look at what he's saying!"
One of the Sky Eagle members replies evenly, "Sir Situ Xing, we're listening to you."
Tan Ji freezes, stunned by the calm response. His other friends look equally surprised, their expressions stiffening. Only one of them, seated quietly, studies Merin with serious eyes.
Merin nods lightly and says to Kaswel, "Do as I instructed." Then, without another word, he turns and walks away.
A few minutes pass. With no one else paying attention, Tan Ji leans in close and mutters, "Brothers, this wasn't the plan when we came. Why did you change?"
Before the disciples can answer, one of Tan Ji's companions, Wu Tao, says flatly, "Because Situ Xing has advanced to the Flesh Refining Realm."
Tan Ji jerks up in shock, shouting louder than he intends, "What?"
The two Sky Eagle members nod in confirmation. Around them, nearby diners glance over, curious at the sudden outburst.
Tan Ji's expression twists. His eyes wide, he stands abruptly, pulls out a pouch, and tosses twenty silver taels onto the table. "Here's the payment for our food. I suddenly remembered something urgent at home."
Without waiting for a response, he storms out of the restaurant.
The others at the table exchange glances. One of them shrugs and says, "Would be a waste not to eat such delicious food."
The others nod and continue eating.