From past experience, Wang Chen knew one thing for certain—time in reality stopped while he was inside the Tower's first floor, or maybe the difference as so big that it appeared time had come to a standstill.

That alone made it the perfect place to grind for new abilities without worrying about what was going on in reality.

Other than that, Before he might have been weak, but now with rare skill like Doomclock and even the transcendent-grade skill, Chronoblade, in his arsenal, the possibilities ahead made his heart beat faster. If he played this right, he might walk out with something even greater than before.

That was one reason.

The second…

His gaze shifted to the small banner in his hand.

The Thousand Souls Flag.

"Damn!" he muttered under his breath, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "Who would've thought I'd actually succeed this time?"

It wasn't the first time he had tried bringing something into the Tower.

He'd attempted countless times before—scrolls, weapons, potions, even living creatures—but each had dissolved into particles of light before crossing the boundary. The Tower simply didn't allow it.

Perhaps his cultivation had finally reached the threshold. Or maybe, just maybe, the Tower itself had chosen to let this particular artifact in.

Either way, it no longer mattered.

"Hehe… with how many resentful ghosts roam this floor, gathering a mere thousand to repair this treasure shouldn't be an issue."

His chuckle echoed softly through the empty void as he turned toward the gleaming spire in the distance.

While in reality one needed to sacrifice and extract the soul of one thousand cultivator Wang Chen on the first floor could repair it without incurring any negative karma at all.

Truly genius.

Eager to confirm his theory, Wang Chen willed his perception to shift—and once again, the world rippled.

The sensation was dizzying, like falling into water that had no surface or depth.

When his vision stabilized, he was standing beneath a sky of ashen gray, the air thick with cold mist that smelled faintly of rust and decay. The fields before him stretched endlessly in every direction, their twisted terrain littered with skeletal trees and stone ruins half-swallowed by fog.

A familiar world.

The first floor of the Tower of Infinite Enlightenment.

Wang Chen's expression remained calm, but his eyes flickered with focus. A faint translucent flicker—the Tower's protective barrier—still covered his body like a thin veil of light.

He was safe, for now.

The barrier would only last for a few minutes—just long enough for him to assess his surroundings and reorient himself.

Exhaling slowly, Wang Chen opened his hand, summoning the familiar blue interface.

[Class: Gardener (Common)]

[Level: 0]

[Strength: 1]

[Agility: 1]

[Perception: 1]

[Physique: 1]

[Mana: 5]

[Class Skills: Pruning and Planting]

[Other Skills: —]

"...."

Silence followed!

Then, in that oppressive and desolate world, Wang Chen could almost hear his avatar's heartbeat pounding like a drum.

"…What the fuck…"

His lips twitched violently.

Of all the possible classes—Gardener.

After multiple successful runs, he had almost forgotten just how cruel and absurd the Tower could be.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath, "You give me Sword Saint one day and this shit the next. Seriously, Tower… you're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

The Tower, of course, didn't respond.

Minutes passed before Wang Chen's irritation faded into resignation.

The Tower's class system was random. Whether he received a divine-grade class or a peasant's role depended entirely on luck—or whatever warped logic governed this place.

"Anyway," he sighed, adjusting the flag at his waist, "I'm here to gather souls this time, not chase rewards."

He lifted his head and scanned the horizon. The fog shifted faintly, and somewhere far away, he could hear faint, distorted cries—like whispers carried by a dead wind.

The air began to hum softly.

The protective barrier surrounding him flickered, its light dimming with every heartbeat until it vanished completely.

A chill seeped into his bones.

Now, the fragile Level 0 Gardener stood alone in a world that devoured the unprepared.

"Alright," he muttered. "Let's get this over with."

He took a step forward, the ground crunching beneath his boots. The shadows stirred in response, like predators catching the scent of prey.

Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometers away, deep within the fog's endless expanse—

A sphere of darkness pulsed to life, twisting and warping the air around it.

The fabric of space shivered, and a faint ripple of sound—neither a whisper nor a scream—spread outward.

An unknown entity was awakened once more.

"…Hmmm."

The voice was ancient, hollow, and amused.

"The same aura from before."

It had felt him—the intruder, the anomaly, the soul that didn't belong to this plane.

And as the darkness expanded like spreading ink, the unseen entity smiled in the void, its laughter thin and echoing.

At last, it had found an opportunity to sneak out of this palace.

…

Unaware of the unseen entity lurking in the shadows, Wang Chen busied himself with his exploration inside the Tower. Everything felt strangely quiet—too quiet. The silence wasn't peace; it was the kind of silence that spoke of the dangers to come, a pause before things shit hit the fan.

He continued down the mist-laden ladne, until he felt it.

A faint chill brushed across his neck—followed by the low, distorted sound of something crying.

His body froze, instincts flaring. Then he saw it.

A few meters ahead, drifting silently above the cracked ground, was a resentment ghost. Its translucent form pulsed with a dull gray light, the aura of hatred swirling around it like a suffocating mist. The black fog that surrounded it was thick enough to distort its outline, but even through the haze, Wang Chen could make out its twisted face—half human, half something unspeakable.

The ghost's body wasn't large; its core of resentment was roughly the size of a child's head, glowing faintly like a dying ember. Judging by its presence, it was likely around Level Five—nothing too threatening.

"Shouldn't be a problem," Wang Chen murmured under his breath.

Maybe it was because his aura was too strong, or perhaps he had simply let his guard down—but the resentment ghost suddenly snapped its head in his direction. Its gaping mouth stretched unnaturally wide as it let out a cry that sounded like a baby's wail mixed with nails scraping on glass.

A faint smirk appeared on Wang Chen's lips. "So, you've noticed me."

He didn't move. Instead, he stood calmly, his hand slowly lowering to his side as his mana began to circulate through his meridians. His spiritual energy condensed, sharp and cold, rippling around his body.

"Chronoblade."

The word left his lips like a whisper carried by the wind.

And then—nothing happened.

The cold wind continued to howl through the misty corridors. Dust stirred lazily on the ground. The ghost hovered in place, its hollow eyes fixed on him.

Wang Chen blinked, momentarily confused. The world should have frozen by now. Everything—time, motion, sound—should have fallen still, leaving only him and the target suspended in that eerie gray silence.

But the world remained unchanged. The ghost's distorted face twisted closer, and the sharp chill of its presence grew stronger by the second.

"What the hell…? Did it fail?"

His thoughts barely had time to settle before the resentment ghost lunged forward.

Its form surged like black liquid, stretching unnaturally as it closed the distance in the blink of an eye. The wails around them grew louder—echoing like the cries of a thousand children in pain.

In the dim haze, its skeletal claws shimmered faintly, each tip glowing with a deathly blue light.

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