The air inside the meditation hall was still the same as before—quiet, unmoving, almost timeless. The faint scent of sandalwood incense drifted lazily through the air, curling in translucent ribbons that shimmered under the morning light.

Outside, faint voices echoed—Lin Huang and Li Mei talking, their words soft and distant, like memories carried on the wind.

Though Wang Chen had spent what felt like decades within the Tower of Infinite Enlightenment, in the real world, time had remained utterly still.

Opening his eyes, Wang Chen exhaled softly. His face carried a weary calm, the kind of expression one only wore after countless lifetimes. His eyes, however, reflected something deeper—a subtle exhaustion, as though even victory had begun to taste like dust.

"...Back already, huh?" he muttered to himself. His voice was hoarse, his tone indifferent.

Then, with a low sigh that came from somewhere between relief and defeat, he let his head tilt slightly. "So that's it…"

But before he could continue lamenting, a soft chime echoed in front of him.

[Garden of Eternity successfully learned. Would you like to create the realm tied to your soul now?]

Wang Chen blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"...Whaaaat?"

The sound escaped him like an involuntary gasp. He stared at the glowing blue text hovering in front of him, his mind blanking out completely.

For a man who had seen gods fall and entire worlds burn, it took a lot to shock him—yet this, apparently, did the trick.

No matter how many times he blinked, rubbed his eyes, or pinched his cheek, the notification refused to vanish. It floated there stubbornly, pulsing faintly, as if waiting—silent, patient, eternal.

It took several long breaths before Wang Chen's mind caught up with reality. His body tensed, and then—

He erupted.

"Ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha! I actually got it!"

His laughter filled the quiet chamber, rolling like thunder through the air. The stone walls trembled faintly, amplifying the sound until it spilled through the half-open doors.

Outside, the two disciples froze mid-conversation.

Li Mei blinked, her brows furrowing. "Senior brother… was that—Master?"

Lin Huang's expression was unreadable. After a moment, he shook his head with an almost solemn calm.

"Don't disturb him," he said quietly, though a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Master must've had a breakthrough. Let him enjoy it."

Li Mei still looked skeptical, but she nodded slowly. "If you say so…"

Li Mei doubt was not unfounded, Wang Chen realm according to her was already very high, so how could it be easy for him to achieve breakthrough?

---

Back inside, Wang Chen's laughter slowly died down. The wild joy in his face melted into a more serious expression as a single, practical thought replaced his excitement.

"How much time will the realm creation take?"

His tone carried no trace of jest now. He leaned forward, tense, staring at the floating window. A realm—an actual world—wasn't something to take lightly. Creating one could mean centuries of isolation.

For a brief moment, he imagined being sealed again in endless void, watching another millennium pass. His chest tightened at the thought.

Then—another chime.

[One day.]

Wang Chen blinked. "...That's it?"

He reread the words twice to make sure. Compared to the decades he'd expected, a single day sounded almost laughable. His lips curved upward in relief.

"Well, can't argue with that."

Without hesitation, he pressed Yes.

Instantly, the air around him trembled. The space rippled like the surface of disturbed water, his surroundings blurring at the edges. For a brief moment, it felt as if the entire world was breathing—expanding, contracting—synchronized with the beating of his heart.

Then everything stilled.

The sensation vanished as quickly as it came, leaving behind an uncanny silence.

Wang Chen sat unmoving for a while, waiting for aftershocks that never came. When nothing happened, he finally relaxed, leaning back against the meditation cushion.

"Guess that's that," he muttered.

But if there was one thing he'd learned from centuries of Tower runs—it was to never get comfortable.

After a short rest, his eyes opened once again, gleaming with renewed focus.

"Alright, let's speedrun this again."

...

With a thought, his consciousness was drawn back into the Tower.

The first floor unfolded before him once more—the familiar wastelands of gray mist and whispering souls. But this time, there was one crucial difference.

The woman—Mo Huayan—was gone.

Wang Chen stood silently for a long moment, waiting for the inevitable whisper in his ear, the mocking voice that accompanied him in the last run . But there was only silence.

A grin slowly stretched across his face.

"Finally free, huh? Good."

Without the constant torment of that mysterious vixen, he could finally focus.

He brought up his status window—and nearly burst into laughter.

Formation Master class!

"Ha! Looks like the heavens finally decided to apologize," Wang Chen chuckled. "Now this… this is a proper class."

His enthusiasm surged.

The second run began—swift, surgical, and calculated.

Unlike before, his every movement was precise. His mastery of the Tower's environment was unmatched, and with the Formation Master's first skill—Concealment Formation—he moved through the resentful fog like a phantom, unseen and unstoppable.

He didn't just hunt ghosts this time; he herded them. Using barriers and traps, he lured dozens—sometimes hundreds—into kill zones before wiping them out in devastating bursts.

Each battle was a perfect symphony of violence and control.

Days blurred into weeks, and before long, he was nearing the end.

The fifth month came.

Floor Cleared.

The notification appeared, its golden letters gleaming brighter than usual.

A new record.

The reward glowed faintly, and for a moment, Wang Chen simply stared, smiling like a man drunk on victory.

Luck was finally on his side.

But instead of celebrating, he turned immediately back toward the Tower gate.

"Once more."

---

He ran again.

And again.

And again.

Each attempt smoother than the last, each failure pushing him closer to perfection.

Eight runs later, he had done the impossible—cutting the completion time from six months to four.

Even the Tower's mechanical voice seemed faintly impressed.

But it wasn't all glory. On the ninth run, luck turned.

Just seconds after the protection timer ended, he found himself surrounded—hundreds of Nether Ghosts materializing from every direction. Their distorted faces screamed silently as they tore him apart piece by piece.

The pain was indescribable.

When his consciousness finally respawned in the waiting space, Wang Chen sat in stunned silence, drenched in cold sweat.

"...Well, that was unpleasant."

But instead of fear, a small smile crept across his face.

Just then he felt a sharp jolt in his soul as if something fundamental about him was changing.

"What's this..!"

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