The advantage of possessing a gigantic spiritual space was undeniable. It meant a qi sea vast beyond conventional limits, an inexhaustible reservoir that could fuel techniques endlessly and grant overwhelming dominance in raw power—even when facing cultivators at realms as high as Unity. In prolonged battles or direct clashes, such an advantage was nothing short of terrifying.

But every blessing carried its own curse.

The difficulty of forming a Golden Core rose exponentially with the size of the qi sea. What others needed to compress was a lake. What Li Mei faced was an ocean. To condense such an immense mass of qi into a core no larger than a bead—barely a thousandth of its original volume—was an ordeal bordering on the impossible.

That was where the Nine Compressions Pearl came in.

The pearl's value did not lie merely in rarity, but in its unique nature. It softened and refined the qi sea itself, turning rigid, turbulent energy into something pliable—capable of being folded, layered, and compressed again and again without collapse. In the hands of an ordinary cultivator, it was already priceless. But refined into a pill by an expert alchemist like Li Mei, its effects would be magnified to an almost miraculous degree.

As Li Mei stood quietly before him, waiting, countless thoughts raced through Wang Chen's mind. Calculations, risks, future outcomes—all of them flashing past in an instant.

Then, as if the matter were no more than a minor inconvenience, a small, reassuring smile appeared on his face. He nodded without hesitation.

"No need to worry about such trifles, my disciple," Wang Chen said calmly, his tone steady and absolute. "As my students, you only need to focus on cultivation. Teacher will handle all the resources."

For a brief moment, Li Mei froze.

Then her eyes lit up, bright and unmistakably joyful. She made no effort to hide it. If her Master had said those words, the Nine Compressions Pearl was as good as already in her hands.

Suppressing her excitement, she bowed deeply and expressed her thanks before turning to leave. Her steps were light as she exited the chamber, her thoughts already racing ahead—to preparations, formulas, and the moment she would finally begin refining the pill that would decide her future.

Wang Chen watched Li Mei's departing figure until it vanished beyond the corridor, the faint echo of her footsteps dissolving into silence. Only then did a subtle weight settle into his expression, the ease from moments earlier quietly fading.

Something felt… off.

"Hmm…" Wang Chen murmured, eyes narrowing. "Why is this woman here?"

His gaze pierced through distance as if it were nothing more than thin paper, stretching across tenss of kilometers to the outer perimeter of Phoenix and Dragon City. There, an extravagant carriage rolled forward at an unhurried pace, its body inlaid with precious metals and spiritual gemstones that caught the light like flowing starlight. Six war horses pulled it in perfect formation, their hooves striking the stone streets in measured rhythm.

Above the carriage, a radiant rainbow emblem shimmered like a miniature sun.

The reaction was immediate.

All along the streets, commoners paused mid-step. Conversations died. Heads turned. Whispers spread like ripples across a pond.

"Isn't that the emblem of Seven Rainbow City…?"

"Why would they come here now…?"

There was no panic in their voices—only curiosity and cautious optimism. After all, Seven Rainbow City was the only other city to survive the apocalypse intact. Most assumed this visit was diplomatic, perhaps even friendly.

And they weren't wrong.

Ming Yao had not come unprepared.

Long before her arrival, she had already gathered everything there was to know about Wang Chen—his identity, his background, his disciples, and, most importantly, his role as the Master of the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo. The moment those facts were confirmed, her decision had been made.

She would pursue him personally.

High above, watching the commotion unfold below, Wang Chen let out a slow, resigned sigh.

A dull ache bloomed behind his temples.

"Troubles really do chase after you once you get famous," he muttered.

Later that evening, Lin Huang departed as planned. His posture was straight, his eyes sharp with resolve, but Wang Chen knew better than anyone how turbulent the storm within his disciple truly was. To ensure no unforeseen mishaps occurred on the road, Wang Chen instructed Rong Luo and Young Master Yun to accompany him.

With the three gone, the dojo emptied almost instantly.

The once lively courtyards fell silent. The air itself felt larger, lonelier.

Wang Chen stood still, watching Lin Huang's figure recede into the distance until even his spiritual sense could no longer trace him. Only then did he turn away, his expression unreadable.

"I hope you can untie that knot in your heart," he thought quietly.

"For your sake… and for your sword."

As if responding to the heaviness lingering in his heart—or perhaps because it had simply been too long since she last revealed herself—a crisp, clear chirp rang out within Wang Chen's chamber.

Cuckoo!

A faint warmth stirred against his chest, and in the next instant, a tiny, radiant figure popped out. Rina, the ancient Phoenix chick, fluttered into view, her feathers shimmering softly as though woven from dawnlight.

Her beady eyes darted around the chamber with intense focus, brimming with alert curiosity. Something was wrong. Her father was unhappy.

And that simply wouldn't do.

If it was an insect… a cultivator… or anything that dared upset her gentle father, she would bite it whole. No hesitation.

Wang Chen felt her emotions ripple through their shared connection, pure and unfiltered. The corners of his lips lifted unconsciously, a rare softness easing the weight in his gaze. He reached out and gently stroked the downy feathers atop her head.

Cuckoo!

Rina immediately melted into the touch, letting out a pleased chirp as she rubbed against his fingers. Then she fluttered around him in excited loops, circling his shoulders, his hair, his sleeves—like a child finally allowed out to play.

"You little brat," Wang Chen said with a faint chuckle, his voice low and indulgent. "You've finally decided to come out of the Garden of Eternity? I was starting to think you liked that cave more than me."

The Garden of Eternity was, after all, a paradise even by higher-realm standards. Its qi density was absurdly rich, saturated with ancient vitality. For a creature like Rina, it was heaven itself. Unless Wang Chen summoned her—or something truly important occurred—she almost never left that place.

But instead of feeling slighted, Wang Chen felt oddly reassured.

In fact, he was glad she was out.

With Lin Huang gone, and many disciples now scattered or cultivating in seclusion, someone needed to quietly watch over the Garden of Eternity. And Rina… Rina was more than capable of handling that responsibility. A fate-anchored primordial phoenix was hardly something any intruder could afford to underestimate.

As his thoughts drifted there, images of the cultivators within the Garden surfaced in his mind. Through sheer perseverance and fortune, several had already reached the Nascent Soul Realm—an achievement that would shake sects in any other era.

And yet…

Wang Chen's gaze sharpened slightly.

Even now, no one with talent comparable to the First Saint of the Heaven-Rending Dynasty had emerged.

Not yet.

Perhaps the world simply needed more time.

Or perhaps… the right spark had yet to appear.

After playing around for some time, Rina finally let out a soft chirp and slipped back into Wang Chen's spiritual space, returning to the Garden of Eternity as quietly as she had appeared.

The chamber fell silent once more.

Wang Chen's relaxed expression faded, replaced by a faint crease between his brows. His thoughts drifted—not to the city, nor to his disciples—but to that exceptionally talented young man who had once shaken an entire era of cultivation.

A prodigy born at the wrong time.

That youth's soul still wandered within the sealed slave essence, caught in a state neither alive nor dead. Compared to the brilliance he once possessed, his current existence was unbearably dim, like a dying ember on the verge of being snuffed out by the reincarnation cycle.

Wang Chen's fingers curled slightly.

"Mmm… this can't continue like this."

His voice was low, heavy with restraint.

"I can't just watch him be erased by the cycle of reincarnation."

He frowned more deeply. Wang Chen had lost many things over the centuries—time, peace, even parts of himself—but wasting talent like that was something he had never been able to tolerate. Not when the heavens were already so stingy.

Then, a memory surfaced.

The Nether Empress.

Mo Huyan had once spoken casually—almost dismissively—about the reincarnation cycle, as if it were nothing more than an inconvenient mechanism she had already dissected long ago.

Wang Chen's eyes narrowed.

"…She might be able to help."

The thought lingered, unwelcome.

He exhaled slowly, expression darkening.

Asking for help was not something he liked—especially not from someone like her. The Nether Empress never gave without reason, and every favor she extended carried invisible chains.

Still…

If it meant saving a talent that shouldn't be lost to the void, Wang Chen knew he wouldn't hesitate forever.

Even if he hated himself for it later.

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