When the Soul Law reached Perfection (Max), and the Life Level completed its leap in that instant, a feeling completely different from what Lynch had briefly experienced before with the "Rule Grafting Magic Array" in the Lost Tower, like the light at the beginning of the universe, instantly penetrated every particle of Lynch's existence.

It was not merely the influx of power, but a complete transformation and ascension of his very "existence."

His thoughts moved subconsciously, calling forth the system interface that had accompanied him for a long time. However, the once familiar panel had drastically changed.

The detailed listings of all specific attributes like [Spiritual Power], [Strength], [Agility], etc., had vanished entirely, as if shedding superficial illusions. In their place, at the center of the interface, was a single line of simple, ancient text, seemingly imbued with the supreme truths of the universe, radiating faint light sourced from the rules:

[Rule Power: 100]

Lynch understood in his heart. Attributes? Data? Those were measurements and descriptions of "power."

But when he himself became a part of the "rules," became the executor and embodiment of world will on this path, those external measures for gauging "tools" naturally lost their significance. He was the measurement itself.

He slowly raised his hand, no longer with novelty and foreignness to "manipulate," but with the ease of stretching his innate limbs.

There was no earth-shattering energy explosion, no all-encompassing Death Storm. The broken Space around, the twisted light, even the still slowly rotating black vortex containing the remnant soul of the Truth Wizard all seemed to freeze at this moment.

It was not Time stoppage—that was just one of the most superficial applications of the Time Rule.

Rather, he, as the embodiment of the "Time" Rule, his very existence naturally made the time dimension of this area gravitate toward absolute stability and "submission" based on his will. He did not need to drive; the rule flowed with his thoughts.

His gaze swept over a large stone falling from the dome, suspended in mid-air. Previously, to restore this stone, he needed to intentionally "adjust" the energy threads and "reconstruct" sequences.

But now, just by thinking about it, the giant stone turned into the finest dust in the instant his gaze landed on it, as if weathered for eons, silent and unnoticed, and then this dust in the next moment time-reversed, reformed and restored to its initial rock form before it fell from the dome.

Let elements annihilate? Turn a breeze into a hurricane? Modify attribute sequences?

These were miraculous "rule applications" that required intentional efforts before, but now, for him, they were as natural as breathing, phenomena brought by the very existence of the rules. He no longer needed to "interfere" or "reconstruct" basic rules because he himself was one of the sources and definers of the basic rule of "Time."

He was the convergence point of "past," "present" and "future" in this place.

He closed his eyes slightly, Perception spreading out like mercury flowing. Not only could he "see" the state of all things at the current time point, but he could also clearly sense their numerous possible future branches extending along the time line and every imprint's past trajectory traced back in time.

The river of Time had never been so clear and docile before his "eyes."

This was true Rule Level.

Not borrowing, not grafting, not temporary experience.

It was the ultimate leap of life form, a fundamental transformation from being a "world resident" to a "world rule embodiment." From now on, he was the very "Time" walking in the world.

Lynch slowly opened his eyes, the depths of which had long settled the excitement and shock from the surge of power, replaced by a kind of ancient tranquility and profundity. He looked at the mist carrying the ancient soul, nodding slightly.

At this moment, the mist fluctuated, and the man's figure appeared more solid and clear beside Lynch than ever before.

He was no longer an illusory outline; the wrinkles of age on his face were faintly discernible. He smiled at Lynch, and the smile no longer held heaviness or loneliness, only a relieved serenity.

"It seems everything went smoothly," the man's voice was gentle and stable, "You have completely absorbed the soul remnant energy it left behind, stepping into the hall our dreams were made of."

"Yes." Lynch solemnly gave the man a Wizard's salute, his tone sincere, "Thank you for your guidance. Without your help, I wouldn't know how many more years I'd have to wander in the maze of the soul to complete this crucial workout."

This gratitude was heartfelt; without this ancient guide, he had no chance to efficiently mend the last piece of his soul puzzle.

The man waved his hand, his figure seeming to turn a bit more transparent, he looked up at the shattered Space evolved from his remnants, his tone ethereal: "No need to thank me. Helping you is also helping myself."

"These soul energies, unified with my essence yet imprisoning me like shackles for ten thousand years, have completely vanished. The obsession core of this Space no longer exists. I can finally... break free from this eternal prison, return to the cycle of the Plane's source, gaining true liberation and peace."

After saying this, the man's figure began to turn into points of firefly-like light particles, gently floating upwards, a sign that his soul was about to fully return to the heavens and earth. He was ready to make his last farewell to Lynch.

Before his figure completely dissipated, Lynch looked at him and asked the last question in his heart, with a trace of imperceptible regret: "Leaving like this... do you have no regrets? After all, you once... experienced such misery and injustice."

While absorbing those soul energies, Lynch had long been aware that the pain, distortion, and destruction intentions contained within those fragments originated from the same source as the soul vibrations of the man before him, exactly the same. The fallen Truth Wizard, it was himself.

The man—or, more precisely, the last remaining consciousness of Al—heard this question, a very complex yet ultimately pure and relieved smile appeared on his face.

"Already... let go." His voice seemed to come from a very distant place, carrying fatigue and tranquility from seeing through everything, "All hatred, all venom, all anger and unwillingness... have vanished in that final world-destroying light. And all resentment carried by my remaining consciousness has gradually... been worn away in these ten thousand lonely years."

His gaze seemed to penetrate Lynch, seeing into the endless void, his voice grew lighter, yet with a kind of ultimate peace:

"The current me, desiring nothing, seeking nothing... only longing for this eternal sleep. Perhaps, this thoughtless, emotionless, sadness-free happy sleep, merging into this vast Plane itself... is truly my own..."

"...Truth and Eternity."

As the words fell, his last figure completely transformed into countless shimmering light points, like reversing stars, ascending upward, ultimately merging into the void of the Blood Moon Land, leaving no trace.

Lynch stood quietly in place, watching the final glow completely dissipate, his heart clear. A being who once ascended to the Realm of Truth, stirred monstrous calamity, and bore eternal solitude, ultimately found his destination in this manner.

Looking in the direction where the man gradually disappeared, Lynch performed a standard Wizard's etiquette: "Then, farewell, Nicholas Nicholas Avalon."

With similar experiences and Truth Level power, how could Lynch not know the real identity of the man before him?

It was the one who was crafted by the Eternal Tower and eventually destroyed the entire Akadiga Civilization—the experimental subject—

Nicholas Avalon

The perspective of rules allowed him to better understand the weight of this "letting go." He no longer lingered, turned, stepped out, and his figure vanished from this secondary Space gradually losing its core support, beginning to slowly collapse.

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