Fan Yumei sat on her doorstep at dawn, the warm light of twin suns just cresting the horizon. On her wrist was the plain metal band—the Space bracelet Master Sun had given her. She tapped its smooth surface and thought of freshness.
First, she dropped in a steaming bowl of emberroot stew. Minutes later, she lifted it back out, still hot. Next, she placed frostberry ice cakes inside—and after another few minutes, they returned crisp and cool.
Her heart sank when she reached for yesterday's beast cores and star-herbs. They were gone.
Convinced there was a thief at work, Fan Yumei rigged a simple trap: she crafted a bogus "core" of compressed moonshard and ember-ash, then sat quietly by her workbench and waited.
Hours later—midnight—she heard the soft click of metal. Scanning the bracelet with her mental energy, she found the Space lay open, the fake core missing—and then it spat it back out with a tiny metallic ping. There, caught in pale rune-light, was the bracelet itself, still warm and humming with stolen qi.
Her heart pounded, breath caught. She realized it wasn't a thief but her bracelet was alive and the thief.
Fan Yumei's eyes widened. "So it is alive…"
She instantly felt enraged at this relic. She had no materials now.
"I swear, if you eat one more of my cores, I'm swapping you for a Space Cube," she hissed, narrowing her eyes while sliding the band back under her sleeve. "And I'm pretty sure you'd eat that too."
She tucked the Space under her sleeve more carefully. Thief or trinket, she'd learned her lesson: never underestimate a simple-looking artifact—or anything else for that matter.
⸻
Earlier that week, Fan Yumei had quietly activated her Oni-Walander and signed herself up for short, low-risk Sky-Division support missions.
She ran med-pack deliveries, transported purified water to outer-sector villages, and escorted herb gatherers through dense qi-forests.
It wasn't flashy, but the filtered mission stream paid well—and didn't drain her spirit. By the fifth day, she'd built a steady reserve of credits. Combined with her guild stipend, it was enough.
With funding secured, she approached the North Quarter construction guild and met with a crew of vetted engineers who specialized in off-grid dome builds.
She handed them a blueprint she had sketched by hand over late nights: five rooms total—a wide central living hall, two multi-use bedrooms, a rune-etched study with a beast-reference library, and a reinforced gear-room for weapon storage and beast medical tools.
She requested a roof-deck landing pad with atmospheric ambient lighting and an embedded elemental scanner.
Beneath the home, she designed an underground training chamber with a mini-clinic—complete with a qi-repair table and soul-scan station.
She also included a sealed Mystic Pond, nearly thirty feet deep, where her beast companion could submerge and recover undisturbed.
Lastly, she asked for a full exterior training grid: wind-resistance loops, spirit-rope rigs, elemental drill platforms, and two forged-for-traction lanes for sprint training.
That same day, she visited the outer-district emporium to procure and organize her gear.
She stocked up on leafy greens—spinach, kale, romaine lettuce, Swiss chard, arugula, collard greens, bok choy, beet greens, watercress, mustard greens, turnip greens, and dandelion greens—and other green vegetables like broccoli, green beans, asparagus, peas, cucumbers, green peppers, zucchini, and okra.
For fruits, she chose fresh apples, bananas, grapes, pears, peaches, kiwis, melons, pineapples, and mangoes along with dried raisins, dried apples, and prunes for quick energy. She also packed applesauce compotes and canned fruit for variety.
Protein sources included runed stag jerky, fire-chicken strips, mist-cod flakes, canned chicken and beef, and jerky sticks. She added Vienna sausage tins, peanut butter packets, nuts, oatmeal, and protein bars. For freeze-dried convenience, she included high-grade beef stew and stroganoff pouches.
Her camping setup featured rune-reinforced tents, foldable pilot-sleep mats, weather-seal cloaks, and portable elemental shelters. She carried a multi-tool similar to a Leatherman Skeletool, an ultra-light hard cooler with frost-crystal lining, a compact sleeping pillow, and a rechargeable forge-lantern.
From the medical wing, she selected cold-forge bandages, sleep/repair qi-pills, 3 emergency storm capsules, 3 MyFAK Pro first-aid kit enhanced for beast wounds, and 4 survival packs including ten 30-day emergency rations and two 47-piece survival kits.
Training tools rounded out her haul: weight harnesses adjustable from 5–20 lb increments, pulse-torque training bands, and wind-calibration gauntlets.
By midnight, every container was labeled, runes calibrated, battery levels checked, and field seals tested. Mystic hovered by her shoulder, watching with sleepy approval.
⸻
Fan Yumei knelt beside the Three-Eye Arctic Owl, her hand hovering over its healed wing. Its feathers were fuller now, luminous under the soft lantern light. The third eye blinked open—clear, glowing with icy-blue brilliance.
Fan Yangwei chuckled as he saw her gaze settle on the beast. "You know," he said, voice rough with warmth, "that bird almost killed me."
Fan Yumei raised a brow.
Ka Sanni walked in, drying her hands. "It was a family test," she explained softly. "My father didn't want to give me away easily."
Fan Yangwei smirked, the memory vivid in his eyes. "He said if I wanted to marry his daughter, I had to prove I could care for a life before I could be trusted with hers. So he gave me an egg—that egg. Said if I could bond with it and hatch it in the coldest place I could find, I'd earn the right."
Fan Yumei blinked. "Wait… you're serious?"
"Oh, I'm dead serious," he said. "I took it into the Northern Glacial Rift. No shelter. No fire. Just a few layers of spirit-fiber wrap and a stubborn will. I stayed awake for five days, shielding that egg from the wind with my own body. My fingers turned black. Two toes nearly froze off. But I kept that egg warm."
Ka Sanni's eyes softened. "He was delirious when I found him. Frostbitten. Could barely stand."
"But the egg was glowing," Fan Yangwei said quietly. "Right there in my arms, pulsing like it had a heartbeat. Then it cracked. And out came this frost-eyed little demon. First thing it did was bite me."
Fan Yumei let out a low laugh.
Fan Yangwei brushed the owl's crest feathers gently. "It picked me. After all that, it chose me."
Ka Sanni added, "The elders said it was impossible. That Arctic Third-Eyes didn't sync with outsiders. That their instincts were too sharp, their qi too cold. But he proved them wrong."
Fan Yangwei looked at his daughter. "That bird saved my life. It's part of this family now."
Fan Yumei's gaze lingered on the owl. "It's more than that. It's a guardian. A witness."
As if to answer, the owl's third eye began to glow—brighter and brighter—casting frostlight across the wooden floor. Lines of pale blue energy traced runes across the ground, forming a sigil long buried in memory.
Ka Sanni gasped. "That's… the sanctuary's seal."
A soft, dimensional hum vibrated through the air. The hearth wall shimmered—light bending into a narrow slit of cold brilliance.
Fan Yumei's breath caught.
Fan Yangwei whispered, "Ka Sanni's grandfather sealed that place long before the guilds even formed. Said it would only awaken for someone who could heal not with force, but with care. A warrior with a healer's heart."
The owl dipped its head toward her, its third eye pulsing one last time.
Then the gate opened.
Fan Yumei felt it all at once—her mind sharpened, her qi flowing smoother and stronger than ever, and her soul pulsed in sync with the ancient energy. A tattoo-like mark bloomed on her forearm—faint at first, then glowing. Ancient runes spiraled in icy ink, forming the symbol of her soul gift: Fallen World Inner Dimensional Sanctuary. Her body didn't just respond—it anchored.
No system voice rang out. No mentor whispered clues.
But she knew.
The sanctuary had accepted her.
Not for her bloodline.
Not for her power.
But because she was someone who saw.
⸻
She emerged inside a suspended realm—silent, frostbitten, and old. It wasn't a cave or temple. It was a world. A self-contained dimension coiled around her spirit signature.
The ground beneath her shimmered with crystallized frostgrass and long-forgotten mosses. Bioluminescent vines wrapped around scattered ruins, and a distant forest pulsed with quiet energy.
Floating islands carried dimensional housing—elegant buildings of lightstone and black-lacquered wood, each humming with qi.
Ahead, a massive beast clinic stood untouched by time—walls etched in beast-script, filled with tools, relics, scrolls, and instruments from a forgotten era.
Beyond that: rare herb plots under crystal suns, training fields, sealed rune towers, dark coliseums, and libraries filled with beast lineage, healing arts, battlecraft, and soul refinement rituals.
Much of it was still locked behind shimmering boundaries.
Fan Yumei placed a hand on the frostgrass.
"It's not just a sanctuary," she whispered. "It's a legacy."
And now, it was hers.
⸻
Later, inside the inner sanctuary's training ring, she sat between Maxius and Lufei. Ka Sanni stood by with stabilizer rings.
"Guide into their bond," Ka Sanni instructed. "Trace ancestral echoes—or evolution paths."
Fan Yumei closed her eyes, extending qi. Threads shimmered—Maxius pulsing with high-altitude wind lineage, Lufei brimming with storm-strength stability.
"Maxius has a deeper wind-linked bloodline, beyond elemental control," she murmured. "And Lufei's channeling raw, controlled power."
Ka Sanni smiled. "Let them feel it. Here, you remind beasts who they were meant to be—never break the bond."
Fan Yumei nodded, eyes glinting. The sanctuary amplified every pulse, every breath—safely. Every misstep echoed but did not harm them. They would grow.