When he heard the wooden gate slide open, Lin Huang froze mid-motion. The wooden stick lowered slightly as his sharp gaze turned toward the entrance.

Li Mei's graceful figure stepped out, her white robes fluttering slightly in the breeze.

Immediately, Lin Huang's composure cracked, replaced by a spark of excitement. He tossed the stick aside and strode forward.

"Junior Sister! Can I accompany you outside?"

His tone was bright, almost boyish—so unlike his usual calm demeanor. Months of training inside the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo had honed his body, but it had also left his spirit restless. The monotony of seclusion weighed on him. He wanted to fight, to see the world beyond the courtyard walls again.

Compared to how Lin Hunag had first joined the Phoenix and dragon dojo, filled with nothing but hatred and revenge, his behavior seemed to have undergone a subtle transformation that he himself did not notice.

But the answer that came wasn't what he hoped for.

Li Mei sighed softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Master asked me to wait for a few days."

The excitement in Lin Huang's expression immediately vanished, replaced by seriousness.

"Master said that?" he asked, voice low.

Li Mei nodded.

A faint frown creased his brow. He didn't question Wang Chen's decisions—ever. Their master's words were never without reason.

"Could it be…" he murmured, glancing toward the horizon, "there's still danger outside?"

A normal conclusion considering his past experience.

Li Mei's breath caught for a moment. The question struck deeper than she expected.

She had already run countless divinations, traced her karmic threads, and scoured every omen before deciding to leave. Everything had seemed favorable. No signs of disaster. No shadow in her fate.

Yet now, even that certainty wavered slightly.

If Master sensed danger, could it be something beyond my sight?

She exhaled slowly, letting her composure return. "I've already waited this long," she said quietly. "A few more days won't change anything."

Her words were calm, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of unease.

Inside the dojo, the silence was almost sacred.

Wang Chen sat cross-legged before the flickering candlelight, his eyes opening slowly. Shadows danced across his face, deepening the frown etched there.

"Forgive me, little Mei," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "For your master being weak."

His gaze drifted toward the closed wooden doors, where the faintest traces of Li Mei's spiritual energy still lingered.

He wasn't stopping her out of control or pride. If anything, it was guilt. A quiet, frustration that his strength—at least in this current realm—was still too meager to shield the people under his care.

If Li Mei encountered an enemy beyond the Golden Core stage… even with his system, he might not be able to protect her.

Slowly he let out the breath that he was holding.

"Hmm…" His voice turned thoughtful as he glanced at the flickering tower emblem within his mindscape. "Looks like I'll have to speed-run the first floor again. Maybe this time… I'll get something useful."

Tower was his only hope for now.

The candle's flame wavered as his eyes glinted with quiet determination. The hall fell silent once more.

.....

.....

"Hmm… this flag is quite heavy for something so small."

Wang Chen's quiet murmur drifted through the stillness of the dojo, echoing faintly against the wooden walls. He turned the ancient artifact over in his hands, the dim light flickering across its weathered surface. The Thousand Souls Flag was far smaller than he had imagined—no larger than an arm's length—but the weight pressing against his palm was unnatural, almost suffocating, as though it carried the burden of a thousand wailing spirits within.

His fingers brushed over the flag's fragile texture. It was made from goat-skin parchment, but time had struck at it mercilessly. The material was dry, almost powdery, and veins of dark cracks spread across its surface like an fine spiderweb.

A faint, almost imperceptible hum lingered within, as if something imprisoned deep inside was breathing—slowly, resentfully.

Wang Chen's lips twitched. "Don't tell me this thing is already dying…"

He hesitated. One more stroke across its surface and the whole thing might disintegrate to dust. His instincts screamed caution, and before his curiosity could push him further, he froze.

The Thousand Souls Flag wasn't just a spiritual weapon—it was a bridge, The gate. A conduit that pierced through the veils of the mortal world and brushed against the Upper Realm itself, a precious tresure that could only be found through luck and not bought.

If he damaged it through carelessness, the consequences would be disastrous—not just for him, but perhaps for the fragile equilibrium of this entire world.

He set the thought aside, breathing out softly to calm himself. "Alright… enough time wasted. Let's begin."

His tone sharpened, focus condensing like a blade.

Wang Chen extended his right hand. From his fingertips, sword qi began to flow—thin, translucent, and impossibly sharp. It was gentle as silk yet carried the might to cleave through stone. The strands of qi coiled delicately around the flag, embracing it in a web of shimmering energy.

Under his careful control, the cracked lines pulsed faintly—one after another, the fractures began to knit themselves together. The dry, lifeless texture of the flag softened; faint wisps of shadow danced beneath its surface, giving the eerie illusion of countless souls shifting within.

A low hum filled the air. The flag trembled faintly, as though waking from a centuries-long slumber.

Wang Chen could feel it now—an ancient resonance coursing through his veins, as if his very essence had linked with the artifact.

"This… this is exactly what I wanted," he whispered, awe flickering in his eyes.

He slowly drew in a breath, then closed his eyes.

The moment he did, his consciousness stirred, and the world around him began to melt away. The dojo, the incense, the wind—all dissolved into streaks of light.

When he opened his eyes again, everything was different.

He stood before a colossal tower that pierced the heavens, its spires vanishing into storm clouds that never moved. Each floor radiated ancient might, the air heavy with endless pressure and promise. The faint sound of turning gears echoed from within its depths—slow, rhythmic, eternal.

The Tower of Infinite Enlightenment.

It stood silent, monumental, and absolute.

[Welcome to the Tower of Infinite Enlightenment.]

[Respected Master, you have already cleared the second floor. Would you like to proceed to the next?]

The mechanical voice reverberated softly in his mind, familiar yet emotionless.

Wang Chen stared at the flickering system text, his eyes narrowing slightly.

There was no hesitation in his heart—only prudence. Although in name he was the master of the tower but as master he knew too little about it.

Who knew what awaited beyond the third?

If the time inside flowed parallel to the real world, even a single mistake could mean disaster. Li Mei's cultivation breakthrough was approaching—he couldn't afford to vanish for another hundred years.

His answer was firm.

"…Not this time."

The blue light faded, and the echo of the Tower's hum lingered briefly before silence swallowed it whole.

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