The black metal block rested quietly on Morgan's desk. Ever since Grandmaster Boulder had handed it to him, it had occupied nearly all of his attention. During the past two days, he had barely left his office, immersing himself in the countless forging patterns hidden within the seemingly ordinary piece of metal.
His divine sense swept through it hundreds of times, examining every line carved into its surface, every minute imperfection, and every nearly invisible forging mark. Each observation revealed something he had failed to notice before. The inheritance had provided him with methods, but Boulder had shown him true understanding.
A faint smile appeared on Morgan's face.
"So this is what a true Grandmaster sees..."
One question that had troubled him for months suddenly became obvious, followed quickly by another. Mistakes he had unknowingly repeated over dozens of experiments became impossible to ignore. It wasn't that the inheritance was flawed; his understanding of it had been.
The realization broadened his entire perspective. With these corrections, he was confident he could greatly reduce the pain his subjects experienced during the process. More importantly, the horrifying mutations that plagued every experiment could finally be brought under control. If everything progressed according to plan, he needed only two weeks.
Morgan slowly placed the metal block back onto the table. Without Boulder, those same improvements might have taken decades to discover, or perhaps he would never have found them at all. For the first time since beginning the project, success no longer felt like an impossible dream.
His attention shifted elsewhere. A silver key appeared in his hand before sliding into the lowest drawer of his desk. The moment he unlocked it, stacks of letters spilled onto the floor, drawing a quiet sigh from him.
Ever since the destruction of the Starborn Clan, correspondence had flooded into his manor from every corner of the world. Nobles, clans, kingdoms, sects, and old acquaintances all wished to contact him. Fortunately, he had sealed the manor immediately after returning, permitting only trusted servants to enter. Even the Vonte main family had responded by dispatching fifteen Sovereign Manifest experts to guard the estate, demonstrating how valuable Morgan had become to the family after destroying the Starborn Clan.
He looked toward the mountain of unopened letters.
"Three weeks until the ceremony..."
His fingers reached for a pair of scissors before stopping midway as the tool disappeared. There was no need for it. Instead, his divine sense spread throughout the office. Every sealed envelope opened beneath that invisible perception, unfolding the sheets and allowing every word to enter his mind. Within minutes, every letter had been read without a single seal being physically broken.
Morgan then unlocked another drawer containing hundreds of jade slips. Unlike letters, these carried messages directly through spiritual imprint. Three more minutes passed, and when the final jade slip fell silent, Morgan rested his chin against his hand as a slight frown finally appeared.
"This is becoming troublesome."
He had ignored the outside world for too long, and problems that could once be delayed were now beginning to pile together. During the assault on Starborn Island, countless experts had entered beneath the golden dome, but very few had survived. Morgan himself was proof enough, having returned alive after being swallowed by a spatial tear, but others had survived as well, enough to spread news of what truly happened that day. Most of the invading army had never returned, as the golden dome had absorbed friend and foe alike without distinction.
Naturally, the surviving factions demanded answers. Many of those who marched beside him had been heirs, elders, and future patriarchs. They had answered his call only to die beneath his command. Morgan had promised them rewards beyond imagination; instead, he had delivered corpses.
His gaze settled upon one particular pile originating from the Orenvast family, which made up nearly half the correspondence. Some demanded explanations, some demanded compensation, and others demanded the return of bodies that no longer existed. The remaining letters carried little restraint, moving from thinly veiled threats to open hostility.
Morgan wasn't surprised. Their most gifted descendant, Rhea, had died during the operation, leaving an entire generation of the Orenvast family to suffer because of one decision. He had expected retaliation from the very beginning. The only reason nothing had happened yet was because the Vonte main family still stood behind him, and connections to the Queen of the Central central carried tremendous influence. Few dared challenge them openly.
But Morgan understood something many others overlooked: protection lasted only while one remained valuable. Should he fail, even the Vonte family might abandon him.
His eyes unconsciously drifted toward the black metal block resting on the desk. Everything had begun because of that inheritance. During the battle against the Starborn Clan, it had revealed another portion of its secrets. According to its records, the golden dome had never been created simply to destroy; its true purpose had been far greater. Every life consumed within its boundaries, every fragment of essence, and every drop of vitality had been meant to forge the perfect vessel, a body beyond ordinary cultivation, capable of carrying power that few in history could ever hope to possess.
Had everything proceeded according to the inheritance, Morgan's cultivation would have soared, and his talent would have surpassed even Vexer's. Instead, everything had collapsed at the final moment.
His fingers tightened against the armrest. The countless Primarchs, the Starborn elites, and the unimaginable amount of essence gathered inside the dome had not become his. It had all disappeared alongside one unexpected variable: Shawn. The boy had somehow survived, becoming the inheritance's greatest defect.
Morgan slowly closed his eyes.
Fortunately, the inheritance's creator had anticipated such a possibility. Among the final records left behind was another project, the greatest one recorded within the inheritance. Even Morgan had felt chills after reading it for the first time, as it was unlike anything he had ever encountered. Its author clearly believed it to be the culmination of his entire life's work.
Unfortunately, the inheritance bore no signature, nor did it have a title. The identity of the forger who had created something so terrifying had vanished with history itself. Morgan had searched countless ancient records to find nothing, not even a clue. Whoever that person had been, they had left behind knowledge capable of changing the world, and Morgan intended to complete it.
If the experiment succeeded, everything lost beneath the golden dome could still be reclaimed. If it failed, he would lose far more than Shawn; he would lose the only opportunity the inheritance had ever offered him.
Morgan opened his eyes once more. Outside the window, the morning sun had already climbed high into the sky, and his expression returned to its usual calm.
Failure was no longer an option.
The ceremony would arrive in three weeks, the Orenvast family was growing impatient, and the protection of the Vonte main family would not last forever. Every path before him now led to the same destination.
The experiment had to succeed; otherwise, Morgan doubted he would live long enough to witness the end of the month.