"I made the right choice…" Li Mei whispered, pride blooming in her eyes.

Qi was the source of a cultivator's existence — their strength, their foundation, their future. Without it, all talent, skill, and dao comprehension collapsed into dust. But she, with her transcendental foundation, already possessed three times the qi of those who formed the fabled perfect-grade foundation.

This was only the beginning of the Foundation Building Realm.

As cultivation rose, this snowballing advantage would turn into a tsunami.

Every breakthrough would widen the gap between her and her peers until the difference became an uncrossable abyss.

Yet just as she was enjoying the perfection of her progress, Li Mei's lips twitched.

"The Golden Core Realm… compressing this qi sea into a core…"

It was the natural order of cultivation: the higher the grade of one's foundation, the more terrifyingly vast the qi sea. And the more vast the qi sea, the harder it was to compress it into a Golden Core. Many geniuses had crippled themselves at this exact step — unable to gather, refine, and condense their qi sea into a single perfect core.

Li Mei's qi lake was massive.

A normal cultivator would break down crying.

But her eyes only gleamed.

She rose slowly in the air of her spiritual world, phantom robes fluttering behind her like banners proclaiming victory.

"This would have been a problem if I were not a regressor," she murmured, confidence radiating from every word. "But with my understanding of the laws… and my alchemical talent… it will be no challenge at all."

Her certainty was absolute, calm, and terrifying.

It was a good thing Lin Huang wasn't here to hear any of this.

If he discovered that Li Mei was already preparing to break into the Golden Core Realm while he still wasn't sure when his next breakthrough would happen, the expression on his face would probably become legendary enough to engrave into the sect's history tablets.

…

After some time, the Garden of Eternity finally began showing faint signs of stabilization. The chaotic torrents of qi stopped tearing entire regions apart, and the trembling earth within his spiritual world slowly quieted down. Yet Wang Chen's nerves didn't relax in the slightest.

This silence…

It wasn't reassuring.

It was the kind of silence predators made before lunging.

Still, the brief lull gave him breathing room — just enough time to finally check the reward he'd received after completing Li Mei's breakthrough quest. If he was lucky, perhaps the heavens would toss him a lifeline. Something to fix the collapsing spiritual space. Something that wouldn't make him die with his head exploding like an overripe melon.

With that desperate hope in mind, he navigated through the system interface with practiced ease. His eyes locked onto a single glowing golden box nestled amongst the windows.

He tapped it.

A blinding flash detonated in front of his face.

White engulfed his vision so violently he almost thought another tribulation was descending.

"Damn, what the hell is with this flashbang…"

He cursed loudly, flinching as he covered his eyes. The system, as always, pretended it didn't hear him. If systems had personalities, his was the smug silent type — throwing random nonsense at him without an ounce of sympathy.

When the light finally dispersed, Wang Chen blinked repeatedly to clear his vision… only for his expression to instantly freeze.

Floating inches from his face…

was a white oval stone.

No — a white egg. An egg wrapped in spinning runic chains that glimmered with ancient aura.

"Ehhh!?"

The rude sound escaped before he could stop it.

This thing…

This thing looked exactly like an egg you'd find in a divine poultry farm.

"An egg? What sort of reward is this…"

Disappointment slammed into him like a falling mountain. His spiritual space was cracking apart, microscopic fractures threatening his actual life, and the system gave him… breakfast?

He leaned closer, squinting. It definitely wasn't a weapon. Not a skill book. Not a formation. Just an egg. A very shiny, unnecessarily ominous egg, but an egg nonetheless.

"What am I supposed to do with this? Throw it at my collapsing spiritual space and hope it patches the cracks?"

Just then, a crisp system window materialized.

[Name: None]

[Grade: ???]

[Type: Unknown Divine Beast Egg]

[Current Stage: Embryonic (Dormant)]

[Condition: Healthy, Warm, Slightly Grumpy.]

[Note: Nourish it with your qi to accelerate the egg's growth.]

The description caused Wang Chen's expression to stiffen, a solemn weight settling over his features.

A divine beast egg… not just rare, but dangerous simply by existing.

Thinking quickly, Wang Chen activated his Fortune Vision.

And instantly regretted it.

A blinding tidal wave of gold erupted from the eggshell, so radiant, so terrifyingly dense that it nearly rivaled the combined fortune of Lin Huang and Li Mei.

"What—!"

Wang Chen almost flung the egg into the air on reflex. His heart leaped into his throat.

This wasn't good.

This wasn't good at all.

This was no ordinary divine beast egg. Its fortune was so loud even the blind heavens could probably sense it. If a cultivator with sharp senses happened to walk by… if a demon lord sniffed this out…

Tragedy.

His tragedy.

Where to hide it…?!

His mind spun wildly. He couldn't put it in his spiritual space — not when the space itself was cracking apart like a cheap porcelain bowl. One loud sneeze from the egg and the entire Garden of Eternity might implode.

Then, an idea struck him.

His eyes lit up sharply.

Without hesitation, Wang Chen threw the egg into the Tower's waiting area.

The moment it vanished, he exhaled deeply.

Perfect.

Hidden.

Contained.

Not his problem… for now.

Some people might question his paranoia.

Why was he acting like the egg was a ticking bomb? Didn't he already have two beacons of fortune beside him, Li Mie and Lin Huang? Then why not just nourish it and hatch it? Wouldn't the baby beast assume he was its parent?

Well… that was how it worked in trash cultivation novels.

Reality was far uglier.

The system gave him an egg — not a beast-binding contract. Divine beasts weren't puppies. If this thing hatched without a contract, the newborn wouldn't treat him like a parent. It might very well treat him like a snack.

So no.

Absolutely not.

No hatching until he had ironclad control.

After placing the egg safely inside the Tower, Wang Chen sighed heavily. For a moment he simply sat there, looking like someone whose "reward" had punched him in the stomach instead of helping him.

Instead of solving a problem, the quest reward had just birthed a new catastrophe for him.

At some point, Wang Chen drifted into deep contemplation, mentally sifting through dozens of solutions. None were easy, but one — the simplest — glowed brightest:

Increase cultivation.

Stabilize spiritual space.

Patch the microscopic tears.

Simple in theory.

In reality? A cosmic joke.

"As if it's that easy…"

He shrugged, exhausted.

Just as he was about to stand, his ears twitched.

A noise — loud, chaotic, utterly disrespectful — rose from beyond the Phoenix and Dragon Dojo's walls.

His gaze sharpened.

And a deep, irritated frown pulled down his brows.

"There are just too many squatters."

Ever since he'd been busy pretending to be invincible outside, and then fixing his existential spiritual collapse crisis, people had grown bold. Too bold. Ordinary citizens had begun treating Phoenix and Dragon Dojo like a sanctuary they could freeload off of.

And the worst part?

In their eyes, the dojo's reputation didn't seem as terrifying anymore.

A mistake.

A massive one.

"Hmmm… I have to deal with them first."

After all, any one of those people could be demons wearing human skin.

And Wang Chen wasn't about to let a nest of parasites — or worse, infiltrators — thrive at his doorstep.

He rolled his shoulders once, aura lightly rippling.

Time to clean house.

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