The rain softened, falling in thin beads that rolled down the trees and into the lake. The rabbit's corpse still lay where it had fallen, blood mixing with the wet stone in thin streams.
Wuyan was already on it.
She tore into the meat with small, sharp bites—quiet, efficient, not a hint of hesitation. Rain slid down her fur, dripping off her ears, but she didn't care. She never did.
Yanwei watched her for a moment, a faint, satisfied smile forming as the last echo of enlightenment settled inside him.
He exhaled.
"Hey, Wuyan," he called lightly.
She paused mid-bite, lifting her head slightly. Her black eyes blinked once—slow, unreadable—then she went right back to eating, tugging at the rabbit's leg with a wet crunch.
Yanwei's smile deepened.
"Wait for me here."
Another blink. No movement. No noise. Just that tiny acknowledgment only he could interpret.
after this
Yanwei then exhaled and tapped lightly on his chest.
A thin crack of light opened—right on his sternum.
Not glowing, not dramatic.
Just a narrow, dark slit in the shape of an oval, like someone had carved open space itself in the surface of his body.
A portal.
Small, silent, unnatural.
If anyone saw it, they would call it absurd… ridiculous… completely impossible.
But to him, this was simply how his merit worked.
The slit widened just enough for a person to pass through, revealing nothing but darkness inside. A cold draft spilled out, carrying the faint scent of stale earth.
Yanwei didn't hesitate.
He stepped forward and entered his own body.
A single stride, and the outside world vanished behind him as the portal closed with a soft click, like a door shutting on reality.
Inside, darkness stretched for a breath—
Then his small world revealed itself.
A gloomy space, dim and lifeless. Soil cracked from dryness. Air heavy and stale. The ceiling—if it could be called one—was a dull grey void, neither sky nor stone, just muted existence.
He stood alone in the emptiness.
This was supposed to be a treasure. A private sanctuary for cultivation, storage, farming… a hundred ideal uses.
Instead, it was a dead pocket of a world.
He walked a few steps, boots sinking slightly into the colorless soil. His expression stayed calm, but the disappointment was familiar.
Originally, he wanted to grow spiritual plants here.
Rare ones. Useful ones.
But without spiritual energy, everything he planted withered instantly.
A complete waste.
He still didn't know how to fix it.
He had theories—nothing more.
First theory: Spiritual stones.
Break them open, let the energy spread, let the world soak it up.
He could do it… but it was too expensive.
And he didn't bring many stones after rebirth.
Low-grade ones? He dismissed them back then as trash.
High-grade ones? Burned to force his rebirth.
He sighed lightly.
Second theory: Natural elemental treasure.
Now that was better.
A root, a fragment, a core—anything that carried dense, natural spiritual energy. Plant it here, and the entire world would shift, breathe, awaken.
One purchase.
Permanent effect.
No endless feeding.
A far better investment.
Yanwei looked around the empty expanse, his gaze calm.
"Still useless for now," he muttered.
His voice echoed slightly in the hollow space.
"Once I stabilize my next steps, I'll get the treasure. Then this place will finally be worth something."
"…but before that, I want to build a place here first."
His voice faded into the grey air. The decision was made.
Yanwei turned and stepped toward the exit point. A thin oval slit opened in front of him—another portal—and he walked through it without pause.
The world shifted.
Rain, cold air, the smell of wet soil.
He was outside again.
Wuyan had already finished eating, licking the rabbit's blood from her paws before trotting toward the lake for a drink.
Then—
CRACK.
Yanwei blurred forward.
Not running. Not rushing.
Just moving with the simple decisiveness of someone who had already decided what needed to be done.
He reached the nearest tree.
And kicked.
A sharp burst of force shot from his heel, splitting the trunk with a deafening crack. Wood splintered. Bark tore. The tree toppled in a clean fall, slamming into the ground with a heavy thud.
Wuyan froze halfway to the water.
Her ears went stiff.
Her pupils widened.
She stared.
Yanwei was already on the next tree.
Another kick.
Another collapse.
Another echoing boom shaking the quiet lakeside.
Wuyan blinked.
Then blinked again.
From her expression, it was clear she had one thought:
Why is this human committing deforestation??
Yanwei didn't even glance her way.
He simply continued, each movement controlled, efficient, and utterly unbothered by how insane he looked. Trees fell one after another, their trunks thudding onto the wet ground like bodies.
He paused only when a small section of forest was cleared.
Rain dripped off his hair. His breathing was steady.
Wuyan, still frozen in place, slowly lowered her head to the lake—eyes locked on him the entire time—as if making sure this lunatic wouldn't suddenly start kicking the water too.
Yanwei nodded at the pile of fallen trees.
"Good. That should be enough."
Yanwei stepped toward the fallen trees and tapped his chest again.
The oval slit opened—silent, dark, pulling gently like a quiet breath.
One by one, he lifted the trunks with smooth, practiced motions and pushed them into the portal. Each tree slipped through the opening as though being swallowed by still water, disappearing into the darkness without resistance.
Thud.
Slide.
Gone.
It didn't take long. Soon the cleared patch of ground was empty, only crushed leaves and splintered bark remaining.
Yanwei dusted off his hands, the last of the trees already swallowed into the dark slit of his chest-port.
He turned toward Wuyan.
"Wuyan," he called, lifting a hand and motioning for her to come.
She slowly raised her head from the lake.
And glared.
Not shocked.
Not scared.
Just… glaring.
As if Yanwei had committed some kind of crime.
A crime so obvious to her, yet so completely incomprehensible to him.
Her eyes narrowed with wordless judgment—sharp, offended, almost betrayed.
Then she turned away…
…and calmly continued drinking water.
Yanwei blinked once.
"…?"
He stood there, utterly lost.
He had no idea what sin she thought he committed.
None.
Not even a guess.
He waited.
Rain pattered softly on the lake.
Wuyan's ears twitched.
She kept drinking, clearly in no hurry, as though making him wait was part of his punishment for whatever unknowable crime he had "committed."
Yanwei didn't rush her.
He simply stayed there, motionless, expression blank, silently enduring her mysterious accusation.
Eventually, Wuyan finished drinking, shook her fur once, and darted toward him.
Yanwei, still confused, decided to just… forget it.
Yanwei knelt and picked Wuyan up with one arm. She settled onto his shoulder immediately, tail curling around his neck like nothing had happened—like she hadn't just glared at him as though he'd violated some ancient, sacred law.
With Wuyan perched comfortably, he placed his free hand over the dark slit in his chest.
The portal rippled open—silent, depthless, swallowing light at the edges.
Yanwei stepped forward without hesitation.
Wuyan didn't resist.
Didn't question.
Didn't even look back at the lake.
Together, the two of them entered the dark portal—and the world behind them folded shut in an instant.