[Name: Wang Chen]

[Soul Refinement: 31 Layers]

[Lifespan: 25 / 35 | Race: Mortal]

[Cultivation: Early Foundation Building Realm]

[Talent: Tower of Infinite Enlightenment (Divine), Time Parasite (Unique)]

[Abilities: Sword Heart (Infant Stage)]

[Techniques: Three Turn Sword Style, One Thought to Cross the World]

[Skills: Doomclock, Chronoblade, Garden of Eternity, Formation of Absolute Concealment, Eclipse Genesis, Armour of Turtle Saint, True Lunar Shift, Emberstep Dash, Thunderfire Sword]

[Items: A mysterious object, Fruits of Resentment Tree, True Vitality Stone]

[Potential: ???]

"What a surreal moment…" Wang Chen whispered, his voice trembling with quiet awe.

He could feel it—power, vast and pure, coursing through his meridians like a young river jumping down a mountain. Each breath he drew made his body feel lighter, sharper, and infinitely more alive. His blood hummed with energy, his senses expanding until he felt as though he could hear the wind outside, the shifting of dust motes, even the faint rhythm of his disciples' hearts.

In just one day, his entire existence had transformed. Every cell in his body pulsed with renewed life, reforged by spiritual essence. The change was so profound, he wasn't even sure if he was human anymore.

He clenched his fist, and the air around it cracked. A thunderous pop echoed through the hall as invisible pressure rippled outward. Even the wooden beams of the dojo groaned faintly in protest, trembling beneath the weight of his presence.

A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"If I'm not wrong…" he murmured, flexing his fingers, "I'm dozens of times stronger than before—no… at least a hundred times stronger."

For an instant, the thought filled him with giddy exhilaration. His qi surged, making his hair flutter despite the still air. For that fleeting moment, he felt invincible—as though even the gods of the Upper Realm couldn't lay a finger on him.

Then, as quickly as it came, he suppressed it. The excitement faded, replaced by quiet discipline.

"This feeling… it's just illusion," he muttered, shaking his head. "The illusion of rapid growth. Power gained too quickly breeds arrogance—and arrogance breeds death."

His eyes softened, regaining their usual composure.

He turned his attention to his status window, scanning through the list of new additions. Several skills from his last Tower run had appeared—none as earth-shattering as Chronoblade or Doomclock, but still exceptionally useful.

His gaze paused on one in particular: Formation of Absolute Concealment.

A faint grin formed on his face.

"Now this," he said, "this one's special."

The technique hid him from divine perception. Even beings who could read destinies or peer through time would find their sight blurred when directed toward him.

That meant no more unseen eyes watching from the dark.

Wang Chen's expression turned serious.

He had too many secrets—too many things that shouldn't exist. And in a world this vast, where powerhouses could crush mountains with a glance, having such a safeguard was priceless.

He imagined absurd scenarios and couldn't help but snort.

"What if some almighty expert decides he doesn't like the way I breathe?" he said dryly. "At least now I won't show up on their divine radar."

But then, his humor faded into unease.

What if there truly existed a supreme being who read the fates of mortals for entertainment?

If such an existence ever glimpsed him—his secrets, his connection to the Tower—what would stop them from erasing him on a whim?

The thought sent a cold shiver through him.

He exhaled softly, whispering under his breath, "No, I can't afford to be seen… not yet."

That made the Formation of Absolute Concealment even more precious. It might not be a weapon, but it was a shield—the only one capable of hiding him from both heaven and man.

After a moment of silent contemplation, he nodded and dismissed the window. "Good. Everything checks out."

Now came the real test.

His gaze turned inward. "Let's see what my spiritual realm looks like."

At that thought, he drew in a deep breath. His consciousness sank, the external world fading into stillness.

What he felt next was unlike anything before.

A pull—gentle yet irresistible—dragged his awareness inward. For an instant, it reminded him of entering the Tower, but this time, the sensation was warmer, familiar. An anchor connected him to both realms simultaneously; he could see the physical world and yet drift beyond it.

"What a magical feeling…" he murmured, wonder flickering in his voice. His heartbeat slowed. His spirit floated free.

Then, the fog cleared.

An endless expanse unfolded before him—gray and silent, yet strangely tranquil. The air shimmered faintly with condensed qi, and the ground beneath his feet was soft, as if made of mist and light intertwined.

The Garden of Eternity.

It was barren for now, lifeless except for a faint luminescent pool at its center—a small pond of flowing qi. From it, a gentle current extended outward, feeding his body through an invisible link. The energy moved like breath itself, constant and nurturing.

"So this is… my spiritual realm," Wang Chen whispered. His tone carried equal parts awe and reverence.

He walked slowly, testing the space. The boundary ended abruptly about a kilometer out. When he tried to step further, an unseen resistance pressed against him—solid and absolute, like walking into the edge of the universe.

He smiled faintly. "So this is the limit of my world."

The classification of foundations came to mind: Earth-grade under ten meters, Sky-grade under fifty, Heaven-grade above that. Beyond that—he had never heard of such a thing.

But this space… didn't fit into any of those categories.

Its qi density alone was terrifying. Even a casual inhale could fortify his body and spirit simultaneously. The spiritual currents were smooth, balanced, and—most shocking of all—alive.

He touched the air gently. It rippled under his fingers like the surface of water.

"Living qi…" he whispered. "My garden… it really is alive."

A soft smile tugged at his lips as understanding dawned.

He wasn't cultivating inside his spiritual space. His spiritual space itself was cultivating him.

Outside, faint laughter drifted through the paper-thin walls of the dojo—Lin Huang and Li Mei, likely discussing cultivation methods again.

Wang Chen opened his eyes, the serene glow of his spiritual link fading.

He exhaled softly, a rare look of peace crossing his face.

Whatever the grade of his foundation was, it didn't matter.

He had finally stepped into the Foundation Building Realm.

For the first time in a long while, he could stand before his disciples not as a mysterious "Master," but as someone truly worthy of that title.

Though he never admitted it aloud, Li Mei's rapid progress had been quietly pressuring him for some time. Despite his divine system, if his disciples caught up too quickly, even they might start questioning things.

Now, that invisible weight had lifted.

he had to maintain this speed all the time, they should never catch up with him.

A small smirk curved his lips. "Let's see them try to catch up now."

And as the first rays of dawn filtered through the open windows, the air around him shimmered faintly with life—the pulse of a newborn world beating in sync with his own.

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