Cain, Meylin, and the Enlightened One sat together in a peaceful countryside. Unlike the ostentatious palaces and glittering throne halls of most ArchDeities, this place was simple—almost humble. A vast garden stretched around them, its air fragrant with flowers and rich earth. Every breath drawn in this place brought the mind and soul closer to serenity.

"As I said before," the Enlightened One began, his voice carrying the calm cadence of flowing water, "you may ask your questions. I will answer them truthfully."

Cain's eyes glowed faintly with golden light—the manifestation of The Flow. It had become instinct for him to activate it in any interaction, discerning the truth behind words, watching the currents of intent and cause ripple through the world around him.

But as he gazed at the Enlightened One, something unexpected happened. The monk's eyes began to glow with the same golden radiance, and in that instant, all of Cain's insights were severed.

It was like staring into a pond of molten gold—brilliant, infinite, and impenetrable.

Cain exhaled softly, masking his frustration with a rueful smile. He let the glow fade from his eyes and shrugged lightly, acknowledging the futility.

"How did you learn to harmonize with the frequencies of the universe?" Cain asked at last, his tone sharper now. "Where did you first encounter the Flow?"

He wasted no time. This was the most important question burning in his heart.

Long ago, monks of the First Realm who followed the Enlightened One had explained their approach: aligning with the Three Virtues—never committing evil, cultivating good, and purifying one's heart. Through these virtues, they claimed, one could attune to the rhythm of the cosmos.

But that path was not for Cain.

It wasn't a matter of laziness or lack of discipline. The Three Virtues clashed utterly with his nature. He carried within him sins, desires, vengeance, and a relentless sense of justice forged in blood and struggle. He could no more abandon these than he could abandon his own existence.

Thus, he sought the source—the origin from which the Enlightened One had learned the Flow. Perhaps there, he might find a method that allowed him to embody it without severing what made him who he was.

And, of course, there lingered the possibility that the Enlightened One himself had been the origin—that he had discovered the Flow through solitary enlightenment. If that were true, then Cain's journey here might prove futile. There would be nothing beyond the Three Virtues, no deeper key to unlock.

But fortune favored him.

"I first learned the principles of the Flow," the Enlightened One said, "in a Sacred Realm hidden within the heart of the Third Realm of the Crimson World."

Cain's eyes flared with excitement, and a broad smile touched his face. It did not matter that the place lay far away, beyond his immediate reach. If such a realm existed, he would find it.

The Flow and the Asura Form were the two techniques that had walked with him from the very beginning of his journey. Both had grown as he grew, their strength evolving alongside his. Without Asura Form, Azazel would have slain him long ago. And the number of times the Flow had saved his life was too many to count.

No matter the distance, he would pursue a chance to advance them further.

The Enlightened One's voice cut through his thoughts. "Before I go into detail, might you tell me where you first gained knowledge of the Flow? I can see your approach differs from mine."

Cain's eyes sharpened for a moment. Then he nodded. "I inherited its principles from the memories of a past life. They were woven into the essence of my soul. Through them, I have managed to evolve the technique to its current level. But now, I find myself unable to move forward."

The Enlightened One smiled, appreciating Cain's honesty and continuing with his saga.

"As for the Sacred Realm," the monk continued, "it is unlike any other I have witnessed in my life or heard about. It opens only once every five hundred million years."

Cain and Meylin both froze, eyes widening.

Half a billion years. For them, who were not yet even three centuries old, such a span of time was incomprehensible. The weight of it was so immense that it seemed to stretch beyond imagination.

"I have entered the Sacred Realm three times in my life," the Enlightened One said, his tone turning reflective. "The first was during the Great War. That was the turning point of my path. Before then, I was merely a fool without a goal. But in that place, I became what you see before you."

A faintly embarrassed smile crossed his face, as though the memory of his former self carried a sting of shame.

Cain and Meylin exchanged a silent glance. They had known the Enlightened One was ancient, but hearing it put so plainly—that he was over one and a half billion years old—was staggering. Best not to dwell on it. Some truths were too vast to digest.

The monk's eyes refocused, filled with solemn light.

"Each time I entered the Sacred Realm, it was different," he explained. "It shifts, just as the frequencies of the universe shift. Yet in every journey, there has always been one constant."

He paused, his voice reverent. Awe shone in his gaze, as though recalling something sacred.

"I cannot describe it in words. So instead—let me show you."

His soul force surged outward, weaving itself into the air. Memories engraved into his essence spilled into reality, painting images across the sky above them.

Cain and Meylin looked up, and the world shifted.

Through the Enlightened One's vision, they stood before a storm. A storm so vast it seemed infinite, stretching as far as the eye could see. Lightning bolts tore through the skies, each one carrying the force to threaten even ArchDeities. Thunder rumbled with the weight of worlds.

Yet in the center of this chaos stood a solitary figure.

A stone statue.

The storm did not dare touch it. Lightning bent its path to avoid it. The winds curved aside. Even the storm itself seemed to bow, refusing to trespass upon that sacred image.

The statue depicted a man. A mask obscured most of his face, but crimson eyes blazed beneath it—eyes so sharp, so commanding, that it felt as though they saw all things in the universe, stripping them bare and imposing order upon them.

"That is the man to whom this realm belongs. The one I humbly call teacher." The eyes of the Enlightened One glowed with pure admiration as the statue became more and more visible, and on its robe two words burned like law.

RED KING.

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