Wang Chen's eyes widened—just slightly—and for the first time in countless years, a genuine trace of relief washed over his expression. His shoulders loosened, tension bleeding away as if a mountain had been lifted from his spine.

A study- and knowledge-oriented class.

Not brute force.

Not blind slaughter.

But comprehension, analysis, and insight.

Exactly what he needed.

"Finally…" he whispered hoarsely, the words escaping before he could stop them.

"…something in my favor. All hope isn't lost yet."

The frozen air rippled.

A familiar presence emerged beside him, graceful and silent, like mist coalescing into form. Mo Huyan stepped into existence, her dark robes fluttering faintly despite the absence of wind. Her eyes curved with quiet amusement as she studied his rare display of emotion.

"Little cultivator," she said lightly, her voice carrying an uncharacteristic warmth,

"why are you smiling?"

She tilted her head, observing him with interest.

"I've never seen you this happy in centuries."

Wang Chen didn't immediately respond.

Somewhere along the endless years, the frost between them had softened. Not vanished—but thinned. Especially after her silent assistance during his most desperate tribulations, after she had stood watch while he wrestled with impossible truths.

For once, he allowed himself to breathe.

For once—

The heavens had not closed the door completely.

Her tone, though still carrying its familiar mischief, no longer held any trace of hostility.

"It's nothing important," Wang Chen replied curtly, deliberately dulling his voice to conceal the surge of excitement beating beneath his calm exterior.

Mo Huyan did not respond immediately.

She studied him in silence, her gaze lingering longer than usual. By now, she knew him too well. The man before her, who normally resembled a machine carved from ice and logic, was different now. His posture was unchanged, his expression restrained—but something flickered behind his eyes.

Hope.

A dangerous thing.

Wang Chen offered no further explanation. He had already turned inward, his attention fully immersed in testing the capabilities of his new class.

The Scholar.

It lacked brute force. Lacked overwhelming killing power. In direct combat, it was laughably inferior compared to the Holy Knight or other combat-oriented classes he had worn before.

But it offered him something far more valuable.

Understanding.

Analysis.

Control.

With the Scholar's knowledge-centric abilities reinforcing his already terrifying intellect, even the chaotic systems of the tower began to unravel before him. Against low-level resentful ghosts, progression became effortless. Every engagement was no longer a battle—it was an experiment.

All he needed was mana.

Time.

And persistence.

And those were things Wang Chen possessed in excess.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

The barren wasteland echoed ceaselessly with shrill cries as resentful ghosts were erased one by one. Their howls faded into nothingness, swallowed by the cold silence of the first floor.

Mo Huyan drifted behind him, her presence like a quiet shadow. She did not interfere. She did not comment. She simply watched.

"…He's really doing it," she murmured softly at one point, her lips curling faintly.

"Growing stronger through nothing but persistence."

There was amusement in her eyes—but also something deeper. Something complicated.

Eventually, only a few hundred resentful ghosts remained.

Then—

Wang Chen stopped.

The violent fluctuations of mana around him settled. His aura stabilized, condensing inward with terrifying precision. The air itself seemed to grow still, as if awaiting judgment.

A notification echoed.

The Scholar had reached its peak.

---

[Class: Scholar — Rare Grade]

Level: 100

Experience: MAX

Primary Resources

HP: 12,800 / 12,800

Mana: 120,000 / 120,000

Mental Focus: 50,000 / 50,000

Core Attributes

Strength: 180

Agility: 220

Vitality: 260

Intelligence: 9,999

Wisdom: 9,450

Perception: 7,800

Luck: 1,200

Secondary Stats

Spell Efficiency: +85%

Analysis Speed: +3,000%

Memory Capacity: Infinite

Casting Interruption: −90%

Passive Skills

Absolute Comprehension (MAX): Instantly understand any system, skill, or phenomenon below Divine Tier.

Cognitive Supremacy (MAX): Intelligence-based effects cannot be resisted by lower-level beings.

Perfect Recall (MAX): Knowledge, skills, and experiences are never forgotten.

Logical Immunity (Lv. 8): Immune to illusion, deceit, and mental corruption.

Active Skills

Omni-Analysis (MAX): Reveals full status, weaknesses, and hidden mechanics.

Conceptual Rewrite (Lv. 7): Temporarily alters the rules of a target skill or law.

Instant Deduction (MAX): Predicts enemy actions up to three moves ahead.

Thesis of Destruction (Lv. 6): Converts accumulated knowledge into raw destructive force.

---

This was no longer a class

It was a weapon aimed directly at the laws of the world.

For the first time since entering the Tower of Infinite Enlightenment, Wang Chen's mental attributes shattered their theoretical ceiling.

Intelligence: 9,999.

He stared at the number in silence.

A dull, oppressive pressure pulsed behind his temples, as if his skull were struggling to contain the sheer volume of thoughts surging through his mind. Ideas layered upon ideas, concepts folding into one another with frightening clarity. Every law he had touched, every theory he had pondered across three centuries, aligned themselves effortlessly—like stars snapping into a perfect constellation.

"Damn…" he muttered under his breath.

"Just how intelligent am I now? I might actually be the smartest being alive."

Yet there was no arrogance in his eyes.

Only focus.

The exhilaration did not come from the number itself, but from what it represented.

Possibility.

With this level of comprehension, the fog that had once obscured the Fourth Level of the Thief Supreme's Legacy finally began to thin. The countless fragments of laws, spiritual mechanics, causal threads, and conceptual loopholes he had accumulated over three hundred years no longer clashed or contradicted one another.

They danced.

Naturally.

Effortlessly.

Like pieces of a puzzle that had always been waiting for this moment to connect.

From the side, Mo Huyan's crimson eyes narrowed slightly as she observed him. The invisible flow of qi around Wang Chen stirred her robes, lifting strands of her dark hair so they cascaded behind her like drifting starlight.

For the first time in centuries, her expression carried unmistakable gravity.

"You've achieved what you wanted, haven't you?" she asked softly.

Wang Chen gave a faint nod.

He did not look at her. His attention had already turned inward—toward a place far deeper than his spiritual sea.

In that instant, a blinding brilliance erupted within his internal world. Not light in the conventional sense, but something more fundamental—an overwhelming surge of clarity, as if reality itself were unraveling, its seams exposed to his perception.

The laws trembled.

Concepts bent.

Even causality hesitated.

Finally—

Under the legacy of the Thief Supreme,

after centuries of obsession, failure, and relentless contemplation—

Wang Chen took the final step beyond mortal understanding.

He reached upward.

Not toward destiny.

Not toward fate.

But something even beyond Heaven itself.

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