Who Am I ?

After the selection came to an end, the atmosphere within Qingming gradually shifted. Although the lively celebrations had ended, something deeper stirred beneath the surface.

In the days that followed, the leaders of the major sects stayed behind in Qingming to attend a high-level meeting. It was held in a quiet hall arranged by the hosts—an inner chamber surrounded by restrictive formations to prevent spying. There, they met with General Helmen and several senior elders from Knight Soul Academy, who remained in Qingming for this very discussion.

The focus of their meeting was the Dungeon of Pulkinā.

Talks were tense but methodical. The sects all agreed on one point—this dungeon was not ordinary. Given its nature and ancient origin, it was likely protected by traps, strong seals, and perhaps even entities aligned with evil cultivation paths. The possibility of a spiritual suppression zone, where certain types of energy or techniques might be sealed off, was also raised.

After thorough discussion, a unanimous plan was formed.

A mixed group would be assembled: promising disciples from the younger generation, a few experienced elders, and at least one representative from each major sect's leadership. Together, this group would enter the dungeon. Preparations would begin immediately.

Soon after, most sects began departing Qingming to make arrangements at their own grounds. The Knight Soul executives followed suit after a few more days.

Back in the Xenic Moon Sect, preparation moved quietly but efficiently. Selected disciples were informed in confidence. Elders were chosen with care. Supplies, weapons, and refined spiritual stones were gathered. Formation scrolls were recalibrated.

Amid all this, far away from the main courtyards and halls, a young cultivator sat alone, nestled within the embrace of a quiet mountain slope.

Beside him, a waterfall cascaded down from a high cliff, its roar softened by the surrounding trees. Mist hung lightly in the air, and the stones around him were arranged in a simple but effective energy-gathering formation. Dozens of high-grade energy stones were embedded in the circle, pulsating faintly with condensed power.

He sat cross-legged, his back straight, his body still. The formation was pulling spiritual energy from nature and focusing it into the center, where it poured into Sheo’s body. Yet, even with such abundance, not all energy was accepted. Sheo’s cultivation pathways had become selective, absorbing only the purest strands of energy.

As the refined energy flowed into his dantian, his cultivation base began to rise with steady clarity. Deep within his body, a purple mist had begun to manifest. It moved slowly through his meridians, wrapping around his energy channels. This was no ordinary mist—it carried a subtle intelligence, and it gently altered the direction of Sheo’s cultivation path.

It aligned him further with the Matrix Technique, the mysterious technique gifted by his unknown teacher. His understanding of its layers deepened. Energy flowed faster. More smoothly. The internal resistance he once faced had started to disappear.

Within just an hour, Sheo felt his cultivation break through the bottleneck.

The boundary that had separated the Half-Saint realm from Saint Level One dissolved.

But ascending to Saint Level was not a simple breakthrough. It was a transformation.

As his body absorbed the new energy, a dormant force stirred within his dantian. At first, it was faint—a flicker, a vibration—but then it began to condense. Inside him, a Life Gene Core began to take form. Slowly and steadily, the core took shape: a glowing, crystalline seed of power—unique to each cultivator.

For Sheo, the Gene Core was a deep violet hue, wrapped in traces of silver. It spun gently, suspended in his core sea.

From this moment onward, the Gene Core would serve as the foundation of his next realm. In time, it would evolve into a Prime Spirit, a conscious energy being that would support his growth and enhance his fighting power.

As his Energy stabilized, Sheo shifted his focus.

His Sword Mind—He had reached the pinnacle of the Lower Acyral Level, a realm where sword intent shaped reality around the blade.

But there was a problem.

He could feel the pressure of a breakthrough—but no matter how deeply he focused, his Sword Mind refused to cross over.

Something was blocking it. An invisible wall. A quiet restraint that left no trace yet kept him bound.

He frowned slightly but didn’t panic. He would stabilize his foundation first.

As he opened his eyes slowly, the world came back into focus—the sound of the waterfall, the movement of wind, and a subtle spiritual presence behind him.

A moment later, Elder Shuna stepped into view.

She moved silently, her robes fluttering just slightly as she walked across the moss-covered ground. Without a word, she sat down on a smooth boulder a short distance from him.

Her gaze, calm but observant, settled on him.

“I see,” she said after a pause. “You’ve broken through to Saint Level One.”

Sheo stood and bowed respectfully.

Shuna tilted her head, a faint note of curiosity in her voice. “Your pace is… truly something else. Three days. That’s all it took. Even the most gifted cultivators I’ve met didn’t manage that.”

Sheo gave a modest smile, but didn’t respond.

After a few quiet moments, Shuna glanced at the trail beyond the trees. Then, unexpectedly, she looked back at Sheo.

“I was planning to explore the southeastern mountain range tomorrow. I’ll be looking for rare beast bones and ore veins. If you're not otherwise occupied, you may join me.”

Sheo blinked once in surprise. Shuna rarely invited anyone to her field expeditions.

“I would be honored, Elder Shuna.”

A soft hum answered him.

Sheo turned slightly and glanced at a rock nearby.

There, curled with her tail around her body, sat Dreamy—his contracted divine fox. After refining her mother’s gene core, Dreamy had broken through to Saint Level Two. Over the last few days, Sheo had fed her multiple beast gene cores, each one absorbed and purified inside her.

Her energy had now stabilized.

Unlike most beasts, her spiritual energy was of a light attribute—pure, soft, but extremely potent.

She lifted her head slightly, sensing Sheo’s call, and leapt lightly onto his shoulder—her usual place. Her small body shimmered faintly with warmth.

The next morning, Sheo and Shuna set out.

The road was long and unpredictable. Though the outer layers of the southeastern mountains were relatively safe, wild beasts still wandered.

Several of them tried to block their way.

But before Shuna could even react, Sheo stepped forward. With a single controlled motion, he drew his sword—an ordinary, fragile blade. It was not reinforced, not blessed, and certainly not suitable for high-level battle.

But Sheo had a reason for using it.

He was testing his energy control.

During his last fight, when he’d used the Raging Dragon technique, the sheer power of the rebound had shattered his blade. He’d realized then that raw strength was not enough. Without control, power became dangerous.

Now, each swing of his sword was precise. He struck just enough to kill—not a shred of energy wasted. The beasts fell without a sound.

Shuna watched quietly.

Inside, her heart tensed slightly. His teacher… just who is he? To not only heal him, but teach him such techniques?

She bit the inside of her cheek.

For a moment, she felt something close to regret—that she had not been able to help Sheo the way this mysterious figure had.

As the sun began to lower, they stopped to rest. Shuna checked the terrain ahead while Sheo climbed onto a thick branch, keeping watch above.

Eventually, Shuna began to speak, her voice calm.

She explained the recent discovery of the Dungeon of Pulkinā. Sheo listened intently.

He hadn’t heard much about it—until she spoke the name.

Pulkinā.

The word echoed through his mind. It wasn’t unfamiliar.

A memory, long buried, rose from the back of his consciousness.

Seven years ago—he was just a child. And on that day, in the southern edge of Pulkinā, he had seen what true power looked like. That experience had shaken him. If that incident hadn’t occurred, he would’ve died back then.

His expression didn’t change, but his thoughts grew solemn.

He looked up at the night sky. One particular star glimmered brightly—part of a constellation he remembered from that very night.

“I made a promise, didn’t I?” he whispered to himself. “I’ll return soon… and this time, I won’t just follow the path. I’ll walk ahead of it.”

Shuna eventually closed her eyes for a short nap. Sheo remained awake, watching the forest below, his hand loosely gripping the hilt of his sword.

He thought of the northern mountain of Pulkinā—where the dungeon had been uncovered.

He also remembered something else.

“If I’m not wrong… the Void Haul should open soon,” he muttered. “Before that, I’ll need to reach Kreek Mountain on Pulkinā’s southern edge.”

His excitement grew.

Once he completed his mission with Shuna, he would head for Pulkinā.

Before sunrise, they resumed their journey.

As the first golden ray of dawn touched the peaks, two shadows emerged from the dense tree line. Before them stood a tall mountain with an engraved cave entrance—partially concealed by rock and moss.

This was once a remote mining site owned by Qingming.

Now, it had been modified and sealed by the Xenic Moon Sect.

Shuna and Sheo exchanged a brief look, then stepped inside.

Although the outer layers of the southeastern range had been explored over the years, its inner depths remained uncharted—and within them lay hidden mysteries, ancient forces, and treasures yet untouched.

And Sheo had a strong feeling… that something within was waiting for him.

As they neared the cave entrance, the dim light from within flickered faintly across the rocky ground. Two guards stood on either side of the wide stone opening, their postures straight and alert. The moment they saw Shuna approaching, both guards bowed respectfully, their heads lowered in unison.

“Elder Shuna,” one of them greeted, his tone formal yet reverent.

Their eyes shifted to the young man walking slightly behind her. Recognition sparked in both their expressions as they straightened.

“Sheo,” the second guard said with a slight nod. “We remember you from the Moon Festival… your performance left an impression.”

Sheo returned the nod, his face calm.

Without needing further instruction, the guards stepped aside and began escorting them inward. The pathway led into the cool, dimly lit tunnels that stretched beneath the mountain—part of the mine network long claimed by the sect. The air carried the scent of damp earth and old stone.

As they reached a junction deep within the mine, a young female guard hurried toward them. Her armor was slightly dented, her breathing uneven. She came to a sudden stop before Shuna, her face pale and hands trembling.

“Elder Shuna…” she said, her voice barely steady.

Shuna stepped forward calmly. Without a word, she placed a hand gently on the girl’s shoulder, grounding her.

“It’s alright,” Shuna said in a quiet but firm tone. “I already know. The sect informed me. I’ve come to handle it.”

The girl, Umi, exhaled shakily and nodded. Her eyes shimmered with restrained emotion, but now steadied by Shuna’s presence, she began to speak.

“Yes… as you already know, an Arctic Scale Dragon broke into the mines three days ago. It tore through our defenses like they were nothing. Elder Kailer tried to stop it… he was injured in the battle.”

Shuna’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she said nothing yet.

Umi continued, more composed now. “We tracked the dragon’s movements. It’s hiding deep within Gate Number 57. Elder Kailer went in after it… but that gate leads to a maze, one we’ve barely explored. It’s using the terrain to its advantage.”

Her voice cracked slightly at the end. She clenched her hands tightly, then looked at Shuna with pleading eyes.

“Please, Elder Shuna… save Elder Kailer. We don’t know how much longer he can last.”

Shuna let out a quiet sigh and nodded gently. “I understand. I’ll take care of it.”

She turned her head slightly, looking over her shoulder. Sheo was standing a few steps behind her, his gaze fixed on Gate 57 with quiet interest. His eyes glimmered—not with recklessness, but with curiosity. Something about that gate drew his attention.

Shuna gave a small tap to his shoulder. “Don’t even think about it,” she said, her voice soft but serious. “It’s too dangerous. I’ll go alone.”

Sheo looked at her, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then he nodded slowly.

“As much as I could see… the mist inside that gate is thick. Visibility is low. Be careful—a surprise attack could be fatal.”

A faint smile touched Shuna’s lips. “Don’t worry about me. Go explore somewhere else instead.”

Without delay, she selected three elite guards standing nearby and signaled them to follow. Together, they moved toward Gate 57, disappearing into the swirling white mist that poured faintly from within.

Sheo let out a breath and looked around the cavern. His eyes drifted from one gate to another—each carved into different stone corridors. Then his gaze stopped at Gate 61.

Unlike the others, Gate 61 looked plain. Almost too plain.

But as Sheo stood still, his energy fluctuated—subtle at first, then stronger. His heartbeat picked up. A strange, restless pull stirred in his core.

Without waiting any longer, he stepped toward the gate. His movement was smooth, fast—his body flowing with practiced speed from his Space Heart and the 9 Path Movement technique. His figure flickered through the gate and into the path beyond.

Inside, the cave was partially explored. The ground was smoother in places, disturbed in others. But as Sheo advanced deeper, the tracks began to fade. The paths became narrower. The stone walls began to feel untouched—older, undisturbed.

A large boulder blocked the narrow path ahead. Without hesitation, Sheo drew his sword. A single precise slash echoed through the cave, and the stone crumbled away.

A wave of dense energy burst forth from the gap.

Sheo staggered slightly at first—then smiled.

“I knew it,” he muttered. “Something was hidden here.”

He continued forward with more caution now. Around him, rare ores shimmered faintly in the low light—unknown types he hadn’t seen before. He carefully gathered them and placed them into his storage ring.

Dreamy, perched on his shoulder, looked around with sharp eyes, its silver-blue fur twitching with curiosity.

The two of them leaned closer to a glowing violet ore, intrigued by its unusual luster. But before Sheo could even blink—

A wave of dread washed over him.

His entire body froze. His breath caught. Dreamy went rigid, its small body trembling against his neck.

A pressure unlike anything before crashed down on them.

It wasn’t just powerful—it was monstrous.

If he had stayed still for a second longer, he would have been vaporized.

Acting purely on instinct, Sheo’s body vanished. A blur of motion—his figure reappeared miles away inside the same corridor.

A deafening boom followed.

The spot where he had stood was reduced to nothing but rubble and dust.

Panting heavily, Sheo turned his head to look toward the source. From behind the settling dust, a large figure emerged.

A gray-scaled dragon with small, ridged wings. Its eyes glowed with killing intent. Cold and calculating.

Sheo cursed under his breath.

“How unlucky can I get…”

But there was no time for regrets. Another attack rushed toward him.

He acted without hesitation. His hand flicked toward his ring—light flashed.

A humanoid puppet appeared before him. The dragon’s scale, aiming straight for Sheo’s head, struck the puppet instead. Even that powerful construct was forced a few steps back.

Now there was no choice.

Sheo summoned his False Star Sword. His energy surged. His sword mind pulsed at its absolute limit.

The puppet moved alongside him. Together, they charged the dragon.

The puppet, trained with Parth’s Trizenic Sword Mind, began to sync with Sheo’s own Sword Mind. They moved in perfect coordination.

The battle that followed was brutal.

The Arctic Dragon—at the very peak of Saint Level Nine—was relentless.

The puppet fought hard, but Sheo was struggling. Maintaining dual focus on both his own sword mind and the puppet’s movements was draining.

Eventually, the dragon’s tail sent the puppet flying back. It crashed into the stone wall. The impact sent shockwaves down the corridor. Sheo was thrown off his feet. His sword slipped from his grasp. His body hit the ground hard. Pain flared in every part of him.

He tried to stand. He couldn’t.

The dragon saw his opening. It turned toward Sheo. A heavy claw reeled back. It lunged forward.

Sheo could do nothing.

Darkness crept into the edges of his vision. He clenched his fists, trying to move, to resist—but his body refused.

He blacked out.

The dragon’s lips curled into a cruel smirk as it muttered under its breath, “Weak human.”

It raised its massive claw, prepared to strike down Sheo’s unconscious body, to finish what it had started.

But then—something strange happened.

The dragon’s claw froze in midair.

Confusion flickered in its eyes.

With a low, frustrated growl, it poured even more energy into its strike, determined to crush Sheo’s motionless form into the ground. But… something was wrong.

A strange mist began to rise—soft at first, but quickly thickening.

A deep purple mist was leaking from Sheo’s unconscious body.

The dragon’s eyes widened further. An unfamiliar sensation crawled across its scales. For the first time, it felt fear.

The feeling coming from that mist… it was terrifying.

It wasn’t the fear of an opponent. It was something worse. Something primal.

It was the feeling of prey staring into the eyes of a hunter.

A rare, unfamiliar fear wrapped itself around the dragon’s colossal body—tightening.

Then, from Sheo’s shoulder, a mysterious mark lit up—not with ordinary light, but with a majestic purple glow that pulsed like a heartbeat, slow and ominous.

His eyes opened.

They glowed with divine hues of blue and green. They shone like stars, piercing through the dim cavern air.

But there was something wrong with them—something unnatural.

They looked… blank.

There was no will behind them. No awareness. No control.

Sheo’s consciousness was still gone—but something else had taken over.

All of the wounds that had looked fatal just moments ago vanished. His skin, once bruised and bloodied, now looked untouched—as if nothing had happened.

His black hair shimmered at the tips—now streaked with a soft silver-white.

From deep within his chest, an ancient and monstrous voice rumbled:

“DESTROY.”

And in that very instant—before the dragon could understand what was happening—

Sheo’s body vanished.

He reappeared right in front of the dragon’s chest.

There was no technique. No posture. No form.

Just a single punch, driven purely by energy—raw and unfiltered.

The energy was so overwhelming, so terrifying, that the dragon couldn’t even move. Its muscles locked. Its instincts screamed. But it was too late.

The punch connected.

A thunderous explosion echoed through the chamber as the dragon was launched like a cannonball, its massive body slamming against the cave wall.

Before it could even begin to fall—

Sheo appeared again, now midair, already in motion.

He didn’t stop.

He kept punching—fists slamming into the dragon’s body with ruthless speed. One after another. Unrelenting.

The dragon couldn’t see the attacks coming. It couldn’t block. It couldn’t breathe.

In that storm of chaos, Sheo’s consciousness began to stir.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, he realized what was happening.

But… he still had no control.

He was spectating his own body, trapped inside, watching in silence.

Another brutal blow connected, this time caving the dragon’s ribs. Its body was broken. Its strength—nearly gone.

It already had one foot in its grave.

Then—suddenly—a floating screen appeared before Sheo.

A line of glowing text emerged:

“Heaven’s Battle Body is exhausted.”

At that exact moment, a crushing wave of weakness washed over him.

His body slowed.

And then, his control returned.

His divine glow faded.

His breathing grew heavy.

All of that—everything that happened—had taken only five seconds.

Sheo gasped for air, sweat pouring down his face. He stumbled back, his legs weak.

Without hesitation, he pulled out a few recovery pills and energy-restoring pellets, swallowing them quickly. His hands trembled as he brought them to his mouth.

His eyes scanned his own body in disbelief—it was perfectly fine. No injury, no blood. Nothing.

But that purple energy—the monstrous force that had overtaken him—was gone.

Vanished.

And Sheo’s frustration began to rise.

He didn’t want a time bomb inside his body—something he couldn’t control, couldn’t understand.

Then—

Something else happened.

A realization struck him.

Right before his eyes, the floating screen changed. Its shape shifted into a glowing structure. A tablet—etched with markings and pulsating with sacred light.

It wasn’t just a screen anymore.

It was a Heavenly Gene Tablet.

A life gene projection, something reserved only for those with ancient bloodlines. A power only accessible by royal descendants, or the pure-blooded successors of powerful, lost ancestors.

Sheo stared at it, frozen.

He slowly looked down at his own hands, and in a hushed, instinctive voice, he murmured:

“Who… am I?”

Carefully, he reached out to touch the tablet.

The moment his fingers made contact, a set of statistics appeared before him:

Name – Unknown

Gene Energy Type – Unknown

Energy Manipulation Affinities – Lightning, Flame, Air, 

Body Type – Heaven’s Battle Body (Incomplete, Upgradable)

Race – Unknown

Gene Weapon – Present(Not Awakened)

His eyes widened in shock.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

He had always thought of himself as an orphan—a nobody. A discarded child, left to struggle and survive in a world that didn’t care.

But what stood before him now… said otherwise.

His breaths grew heavier. It was hard to process.

Anyone else might have wept with joy. Might have shouted with pride. Might have shown off what they discovered like a prized trophy.

But not Sheo.

He clenched his fists.

He refused to reveal it to anyone.

He knew exactly how greedy this world was. And with his current strength, he couldn’t protect what he had.

So, without saying a word, he recalled the tablet—and in a gentle ripple of energy, it disappeared into his body.

Only he could see it. Only he could access it.

Then, he turned.

His gaze settled on the half-dead dragon, lying broken nearby.

He called his puppet back, which returned to his side, slowly recovering energy. Sheo retrieved his sword from the ground, gripping it tightly as he stepped toward the creature.

The dragon, sensing movement, blinked.

It had barely regained consciousness—but the moment it saw Sheo…

It bowed. Its enormous body dropped to the ground.

Its voice trembled:

“Please forgive me, great master… I didn’t recognize you… please forgive me. Attacking you was my greatest mistake. I—I will do anything to serve you.”

Sheo’s eyes widened in pure disbelief.

He knew well that even a drop of dragon blood made a beast prideful, almost impossible to tame. They would rather die than submit to a human.

But this wasn’t submission to him.

This was submission to the divine power that had surfaced inside him.

And Sheo… still didn’t understand it.

He shook his head.

Then, slowly, he drew a shallow cut on his palm and formed a blood contract.

The Arctic dragon accepted it without resistance.

With a soft flick of his hand, Sheo took out a few recovery pills and a glowing energy stone, placing them near the beast’s maw.

The dragon slowly began to stabilize.

While it recovered, Sheo turned to Dreamy, who had collapsed near a rock.

The little fox cub was still breathing—but exhausted.

Sheo gently knelt and fed her an energy pill as well.

Then, as the dragon’s eyes opened again, Sheo looked at it and asked—his tone calm, but cold:

“Now tell me… what were you doing here?”

The arctic dragon slowly lowered its head, its voice suddenly changing—no longer in growls or roars, but fluent, clear human speech.

“I sensed something unusual deep within these mines,” it said. “The remains of a Void Dragon... and juvenile fruits.”

Sheo’s brows lifted. Void Dragon remains? And juvenile fruits? In a place like this? His tone carried disbelief as he muttered, “That doesn’t make sense. This place is too remote…”

The dragon gave a slight nod. “I doubted it at first too. But when I entered this sector, I felt their presence. Especially near Gate 61. I tried to get closer, but before I could, humans ambushed me. I was forced to retreat to Gate 57. The mist there… it was unbearable. But after struggling through it, I found a hidden path that led me to you. At that point, I was already angry and frustrated. When I saw you standing there, I assumed you were another attacker.”

Its large eyes lowered, tail curling close to its body as it bowed its head again in shame. “I acted rashly, Master.”

Sheo looked at him sideways, one brow raised, clearly still suspicious—but also amused. “Then take me to that place,” he said.

Without wasting another word, the two began their descent deeper into the mine.

Hours passed. The winding paths became narrower and colder, their surroundings more ancient and untouched. Dust clung to the air. Eventually, they stopped before a sealed archway carved into obsidian stone. Strange runes glowed faintly along the frame.

There was an invisible pressure beyond, something protective and ancient. But when Sheo stepped forward, the seal parted without resistance. The moment he crossed, the dragon followed—bound by blood contract, permitted entry where others could not.

Inside… they froze.

Before them lay an enormous, ancient hall, its floor cracked with age, its walls faded with lost time. At its center lay a colossal skeleton—the remains of a Void Dragon. It spanned over sixty meters, its wings stretched and frozen mid-motion, fanned out across the entire breadth of the chamber. The bones shimmered faintly, and from them poured an oppressive pressure. It weighed on the air, threatening to crush the weak in spirit.

The arctic dragon immediately lowered itself, its head pressing against the ground in reverence.

Sheo narrowed his eyes. Purple mist surged inside his body as his energy circulated. With calm control, he released that energy through his skin, and the suffocating pressure slowly dispersed—disintegrated by his internal power.

He turned to his companion. “Wait here,” he said simply, then moved forward, activating the Nine Path Movement Technique. His body shifted with rapid, fluid transitions from one path to another until he reached the far side of the chamber.

What he saw made him pause.

There stood a tree—ancient, otherworldly, and glowing faintly. On its thick, bark-covered branches hung six dazzling fruits, their surfaces pulsing with energy. But it was what sat atop the tree that stole his breath.

A small crimson orb. Just floating. It radiated warmth and energy that couldn’t be described in simple words. Its presence alone distorted the air around it.

A gentle chirp came from behind.

Sheo looked over his shoulder. Dreamy, perched beside the tree, stared at the orb with wide, shimmering eyes—her tail stiff, ears alert, as if pleading. She wanted it.

Sheo sighed softly and began to climb. Slowly and carefully, he reached the fruits first. He plucked them one by one, storing five in his ring, and gently handed the sixth to Dreamy.

“You can’t handle the orb’s power yet,” he said. “Strengthen your body and soul with this first.”

Then his gaze returned to the orb. A life essence, he realized. The condensed core of a Void Dragon’s vitality. Even if its gene core was destroyed upon death, its immense life energy had fused into this single orb.

If Dreamy could refine it…

Sheo’s eyes narrowed. She wouldn’t just grow. She would transcend—pushing Sheo’s own potential past Saint Level limits.

After nearly an hour of absorbing the fruit’s energy, Dreamy stepped forward. With a nod from Sheo, she opened her mouth and swallowed the orb whole.

Instantly, power erupted inside her.

She trembled, her small body struggling to contain it. But then—something shifted. She looked at Sheo, eyes glimmering with deep trust and admiration. A soft smile curved her mouth.

Light enveloped her, wrapping her in a glowing cocoon.

At that moment, a soft ding echoed from Sheo’s gene tablet:

Tamed pet ‘Dreamy’ is evolving.

Gene mutation has begun.

Requirements for mutation met.

Before he could fully process it, another prompt appeared:

Folding Battle Space is ready. Do you wish to activate?

His eyes widened. Folding space? That was a powerful formation—one that created an isolated realm detached from the original plane.

He had read about it in ancient texts. It required incredible power to even trigger.

“Yes,” Sheo whispered.

The cocoon vanished in a beam of light.

Inside his body, a new realm formed—a vast plain, hidden in one corner of his inner world. Dreamy was now evolving within that realm.

He took a deep breath, still absorbing what had just happened.

Then, another notification surfaced:

Void Dragon remains detected. Would you like to refine?

He blinked. Still astonished by how far his powers had come… he answered again:

“Yes.”

A strange force surged from deep within him, sweeping over the ancient bones. They shuddered once—then disintegrated into motes of light and vanished.

Sheo turned and handed a juvenile fruit to the arctic dragon. “Go to the folding space,” he instructed.

The dragon obeyed with a nod and vanished.

Then, sitting down in the chamber alone, Sheo took another fruit for himself. He quickly formed an energy array, placing hundreds of spirit stones within the formation, then consumed the fruit.

Power rushed through him—cleansing his exhausted body, replenishing every depleted cell. His cultivation soared.

Saint Level 2.

But the rise didn’t stop there. The surge continued until he stood at the pinnacle of Saint Level 2.

And due to the intense battle earlier, his Sword Mind had ascended as well—crossing the low Acyral Level into the high Acyral tier.

This expedition had turned into a breakthrough.

Then another prompt appeared:

Void Dragon bones refined. Would you like to accumulate?

“Yes,” he thought calmly.

A single, dense bone appeared in his palm—pure white, radiating immense energy.

He stared at it, smiled, and stored it in his ring.

Another message blinked:

Void Dragon wings refined. Convert into Hollow Energy Wings?

Without hesitation, he accepted. The wings began to materialize behind him—slowly but surely forming.

He let them grow at their pace. No need to rush.

Most cultivators spent years refining a single beast core. With the gene tablet, Sheo had done all this in mere hours.

He chuckled under his breath.

“This power… it’s really unfair,” he muttered. “Just what am I?”

The question lingered in his heart.

Finally, he turned to leave. As he exited through Gate 61, light filtered in from above. But he wasn’t alone. Two familiar faces stood outside—Elder Shuna and Elder Kailer, both looking slightly confused.

Sheo approached them casually.

“The arctic dragon?” Kailer asked.

“Maybe he just left,” Sheo replied with a casual shrug.

The elders exchanged glances but didn’t press further.

A few hours later, they returned to Qingming.

Before entering the city, Sheo handed Shuna the refined bone from the Void Dragon.

“I found this in the ruins,” he lied.

Shuna narrowed her eyes. “That’s your story?”

Sheo smiled but said nothing more. After a few failed attempts to force the truth out of him, Shuna finally gave up and accepted the item.

As they walked toward the Xenic Moon Sect, Sheo spoke.

“I’ll be heading to the Pulkinas Kreek Mountains soon. I’ll join the others at the dungeon when the time comes.”

Shuna paused, sensing something more behind those words.

Just then, a disciple came running toward them, breathless. “Elder! A message from the Grand Priest of the Kreek Union Sect!”

The disciple handed over a golden letter—not for Shuna, but for Sheo.

He smiled when he saw the crest.

“Uncle Keal…” he murmured as he opened the envelope. It was an invitation—timed perfectly.

Shuna led him into a private room and asked about his plans. After he explained everything, Sheo looked at her with emotion in his eyes.

“This time, I’ll be gone for a while,” he said. “Right after the dungeon… I’ll begin my journey. We’ll meet again—at Knight Soul Academy.”

Shuna’s throat tightened. She nodded slowly.

“You’ve grown, Sheo. Go, and become stronger. Strong enough that no one can doubt who you are or what you’re capable of. Show the world that you’re not just another cultivator.”

She reached out and touched his cheek, fighting back her tears.

Sheo gently took her hand. “I know your cultivation has weakened due to your injury. I don’t know if this will help… but please accept it.”

He handed her a juvenile fruit.

Tears rolled down her cheeks. She tried to say something—but Sheo was already gone.

At the border of Qingming, Sheo looked one last time at the city of his childhood.

Then he called out.

The arctic dragon appeared, wings now larger and steadier. Sheo mounted him, and with a roar that echoed across the skies, the dragon took flight.

Sheo looked ahead, eyes burning with purpose.

“Pulkinas Kreek Mountains… I’m coming.”