Kaelan sinks deeper into thought, turning his attention inward to the nature of cultivation at the Third Stage of Transcendence.
To understand himself better, he raises his hand. Particles of the Cube respond immediately, separating from his body and gathering above his palm. Each particle hums with sevenfold circulation, obedient and precise.
They are different from him.
The particles of his holy spirit do not respond the same way.
They cannot be separated.
They are no longer distinct.
They have completely fused with the particles of his physical body, forming a new, unified particle structure—one that has elevated his life-level itself. This is not cultivation alone. This is existence.
Kaelan understands the implication clearly.
From mortal to First-Stage Transcendent, the change in life-level is irreversible.
Even if he were to lose all cultivation, strip away law, mana, and refinement, he would not return to mortality.
He would still be a Transcendent.
A First-Stage Transcendent by nature.
His brows knit slightly.
"Is Third Stage cultivation about raising life-level further?" he wonders.
It could be.
But intuition tells him it is not that simple.
At that moment, a familiar presence approaches. Veena is returning.
Kaelan sends a calm spiritual transmission.
"Why are you back?"
Veena's reply comes quickly.
"I want to know how you refined a real spiritual treasure."
Kaelan does not hesitate. He transmits the method directly—the use of consciousness as the primary refining medium, the separation of control from energy, the refinement of particles rather than matter, the embedding of logic before power.
He senses Veena slow, absorbing the information, then turns away.
Satisfied, Kaelan returns to his contemplation.
His consciousness slips fully into his spirit space.
Above him, the divine crystal hangs like a miniature sun, radiating soft but absolute light. It nourishes his spirit space continuously, stabilising it, expanding it, reinforcing its structure.
If he consumes it, Kaelan knows what will happen.
His cultivation will leap directly into the Demigod Stage.
But the cost is equally clear.
Consuming the divine crystal would bind him more tightly to the world itself. The World Will's influence would deepen, become harder—perhaps impossible—to sever later.
He does not want that.
Freedom matters more.
He shifts his focus and observes his soul directly.
It is clearer than ever before—dense, radiant, interwoven with law, mana, and life itself.
"Is Third Stage cultivation centred on the soul?" he asks himself.
The thought lingers.
He continues to observe his internal changes.
Then—
Something responds.
A new power stirs within him.
It is subtle at first, but unmistakable.
Kaelan opens his eyes.
From his palm, a white barrier expands outward.
It is not mana.
Not a spell.
Not an array.
It is a field.
A materialised spiritual field, similar to but fundamentally different from the spiritual fields of earlier realms. It is not projected outward forcefully—it exists naturally, as an extension of his being.
Kaelan studies it carefully.
The field is empty.
Pure.
Unmarked.
Like a blank sheet of white paper.
Understanding clicks into place.
"This is it," he murmurs.
Third Stage Transcendence is not about stacking power.
It is about developing the field.
This field will eventually carry his law, his authority, and his identity.
But it cannot be painted carelessly.
The "ink" that fills this field must be compatible with his existence.
For him, that means only the Seven Elements—and Storm.
Anything else risks internal conflict.
Conflict in the field would not merely destabilise cultivation.
It would damage the soul and life simultaneously.
That path is unacceptable.
Kaelan exhales slowly.
Now he understands.
In the Third Stage, cultivation becomes refinement of the field.
Comprehension of law is no longer abstract—it becomes substance.
He could paint now.
But he will not rush.
He wants depth.
He wants every colour the world can provide.
He chooses where to begin.
Darkness.
The black Cube above him responds instantly, rising and hovering overhead. Its surface glows faintly as dark-element pathways activate.
Kaelan closes his eyes.
The seven paths of the Dark Law unfold before him with perfect clarity.
Dark Path.
Corrupt Path.
Distortion Path.
Cold Path.
Silent Path.
Oblivion Path.
Shadow Path.
He already fully understands the Dark Path.
That foundation is complete.
So he turns his attention to another.
Corruption.
As he begins to comprehend the Corrupt Path, the world reacts.
Sound fades.
Wind stills.
Across continents, battles slow, then stop entirely as cultivators feel something press gently but irresistibly upon their perception.
In the capital of the Night Dynasty, darkness deepens unnaturally.
A curtain of night descends, swallowing streets and towers alike, not with fear, but with silence.
Far away, in the frozen north, Ariel stands by a window in her palace.
She looks outside.
Her son plays in the snow below, laughter bright against the endless white. Winter crows of the wasteland hop and circle around him, croaking excitedly as he chases them with clumsy flaps of his small wings.
Ariel's expression softens as she watches her son play.
For a fleeting moment, the thought crosses her mind—should she send Declan to Kaelan?
After all, Kaelan is his father.
But the thought does not settle comfortably.
Declan carries a power she does not understand.
When he was younger—far younger—he once lost control in a moment of anger. Purple energy erupted from his body, sweeping outward like an annihilating tide. Everything in its path vanished. Servants, guards, structures—erased without resistance. Ariel herself was injured, though only lightly, protected by her strength and authority.
That day, fear outweighed reason.
She sealed the power personally, using the authority the world had bestowed upon her, and fled with Declan into the deepest reaches of the frozen wasteland. There, far from eyes and ambition, they built a palace and lived in isolation, surrounded only by crows and endless snow.
Since then, Declan has never released that power again.
Ariel exhales slowly.
There is no urgency.
Not yet.
She is afraid—afraid that if Kaelan learns of Declan's existence, he will take him away. And she knows herself well enough to admit the truth: she would be powerless to stop it.
The imbalance between them is absolute.
Kaelan is a god.
She is only a Divine Mind cultivator.
Even as an innate demon, her strength exceeds that of mortal Divine Mind cultivators, but it does not change reality. A god's power is complete. Hers is not.
The gap between her and Kaelan is not a difference.
It is a chasm.
Only one path offers her leverage.
She must advance to the Third Stage of Transcendence.
At that stage, her strength still will not rival Kaelan's—but her bargaining power will exist. She will no longer stand beneath him as something that can be dismissed.
She has already chosen her direction.
She will convert fully to the Wizard Way and then advance to the Third Stage.
She once conceived a method to reach the Third Stage through Demon Refining Qi. The path was possible—but untested. If it failed, she alone would bear the consequences. No precedent. No protection.
The Wizard Way, however, has a successful example.
Kaelan.
She has no sentimental attachment to Demon Refining Qi. It gave her power once, but power is a tool, not an identity. When something better exists, only a fool clings to the inferior path.
Ariel turns away from the window and returns to her cultivation room.
She recalls the meditation guide.
The visualisation map.
The basic Wood Elemental Way.
Her true form is the Heavenly Rose—unique, singular, unmatched. She is born of wood, nurtured by it, bound to it. She does not need a complete system handed to her.
She needs only an entry.
The rest, she can create.
Before beginning, she makes a decisive choice.
She disperses her core.
Pain explodes through her body.
Energy rages out of control, tearing through her meridians as blood spills from her lips. Ariel does not scream. She sits unmoving, teeth clenched, forcing the collapsing power to obey.
Slowly, the storm subsides.
Her body trembles.
Then begins to heal.
It takes a full week for her injuries to recover completely. When the last tear mends and the final instability fades, Ariel exhales and straightens her posture.
She closes her eyes.
The visualisation begins.
A vast forest forms in her mind—roots sinking deep, branches reaching endlessly upward. She breathes according to the meditation guide, slow and steady, aligning herself with the rhythm of growth.
Wood energy stirs.
Quietly.
Relentlessly.
A new path begins to take shape.