For his next divine concept, Adrian chose a far more ambitious combination of arcane concepts: Fire, Ice, Space, Shadow, and Gravity.

This was the very foundation used by the Void Sect for its first divine concept. Although Adrian did not know which essential fragments of each arcane concept were utilized by the Void Sect, he was confident that even a random fusion should yield something powerful. At the very least, he expected a high-tier divine concept. What he truly wanted to see was how much a high-tier divine concept could increase his mana capacity.

With that intent, Adrian willed a new empty chamber into existence within his Source Seed. The moment it formed, he began moving rule symbols from the selected arcane concepts into this vacant section.

He reached first toward the Fire section, where thousands of rule symbols drifted like embers. His awareness brushed against one, feeling its heat, its nature. He pulled it free, guiding it toward the empty chamber. The symbol floated across the internal space, settling into the new section with a faint flicker.

Then another. And another.

Adrian shifted his focus to Ice next. He selected several and drew them across, watching as they drifted into the chamber alongside the fire symbols. They did not repel one another. Not yet. They simply coexisted, unmoving, waiting.

Space came next. These symbols were slippery, difficult to grasp. They twisted and folded, existing in states that felt paradoxical. Adrian moved them carefully, ensuring they settled properly within the chamber.

Then Shadow and Gravity. He positioned them deliberately, spreading them throughout the chamber to prevent any premature collapse.

There was no strict structure to his actions. He adjusted, added, removed, and repositioned symbols instinctively, allowing the resonance to guide the process.

Minutes passed, then hours. Adrian lost track of time entirely, absorbed in the delicate work. He removed symbols that clashed too harshly, replaced them with others that felt more harmonious. He shifted positions, tested combinations, dissolved patterns that refused to stabilize.

His awareness narrowed to a single point of focus. Nothing existed beyond the chamber, the symbols, the faint hum of resonance building between them.

As he continued, a familiar phenomenon occurred. At a certain point, the rule symbols within the chamber began to intertwine naturally.

Adrian paused, watching.

The symbols moved on their own now, drawn together by forces he hadn’t consciously directed. Fire and Ice spiraled around one another, their opposition creating a strange equilibrium. Space bent inward, folding the chamber’s dimensions, while Shadow spread through the gaps like ink in water. Gravity anchored everything, pulling the disparate elements into a unified structure.

They fused smoothly, reinforcing one another, forming something entirely new.

The transformation accelerated. Symbols collapsed into one another, their individual identities dissolving. What remained was a singular, divine concept.

The instant the divine concept stabilized, Adrian’s Source Seed pulsed violently.

The chamber housing the new concept ignited with a deep purple glow, and that light surged outward, flooding into his Mana Sea. The glow intensified, blazing brighter, and the pressure hit him.

Inside the sub-dimensional space, pressure built at a far greater intensity than before.

The Mana Sea churned, its surface rippling violently. The walls of the sub-dimensional cavity strained, stretching outward under the relentless force. Cracks appeared along the edges, thin fractures that spread like spiderwebs.

The Mana Sea strained as it was forced to expand further, and the pain was far more severe than anything he had previously endured.

Adrian clenched his focus tightly, holding his consciousness steady and refusing to lose control.

The purple light flooded outward, relentless. The Mana Sea expanded inch by inch, the cavity walls groaning under the strain. Adrian felt every moment of it, the tearing sensation as the space stretched beyond its previous limits.

His vision blurred. The room around him faded, replaced by a haze of white-grey light tinged with purple. He couldn’t tell if his eyes were open or closed anymore.

The pressure peaked.

And then, slowly, it began to recede.

The light dimmed. The churning Mana Sea settled into stillness. The fractures along the cavity walls sealed themselves, leaving no trace.

Even so, when the pressure finally subsided, he felt as though he could barely remain conscious.

Adrian slumped forward, catching himself with one hand against the floor. His limbs felt heavy, unresponsive. The room spun around him, tilting at odd angles.

The sensation was unmistakable. It was the same hollow emptiness in his mind that he had experienced after erasing the Demon Emperor. The Guardian Spirit had explained this state, saying it occurred when one’s Willforce was severely drained.

Adrian realized what was going on. Creating three divine concepts in succession had nearly exhausted his Willforce entirely. Thinking itself became difficult, so he stopped forcing it altogether and simply remained seated in silence.

He lowered himself fully to the floor, lying flat on his back. The cool surface pressed against his spine, grounding him. He stared at the ceiling without truly seeing it, his mind too hollow to process details.

There was no method described anywhere to actively restore Willforce. The only option available to him was rest. Adrian closed his eyes and let the emptiness wash over him.

Several hours passed before the hollowness gradually faded.

The fog lifted enough that he could form coherent thoughts again. Adrian sat up slowly, testing his balance.

He could not tell whether his Willforce had fully recovered during that time or if it had merely reached a stable threshold where it no longer impaired his consciousness. These were things he would need to test and understand in the future.

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Still, this experience answered the question that had lingered in his mind. He had wondered whether there was any limit preventing him from endlessly expanding his mana reserves. Now, he had his answer.

Expanding his mana reserves cannot be done endlessly. Willforce was required not only to create divine concepts, but also to endure the pressure those concepts placed on his Mana Sea. Even to split the Ruination concept and recreate it needed Willforce. Every step demanded Willforce, and that demand became the true restriction.

He realized he could not continue this process recklessly. If he exhausted himself to this degree and encountered an enemy in such a weakened state, he would be unable to fight. Even with the Source, without sufficient Willforce to command it, he would be helpless.

The thought sent a cold spike through him. He had nearly rendered himself defenseless in the middle of travel. If Varkas’s allies had tracked Lyra here, if any pirates had attacked the ship, if anything had gone wrong while he was collapsed on the floor, he would have been utterly vulnerable.

This meant that he could not simply sit in isolation and endlessly cultivate divine concepts to inflate his mana capacity. He would need to carefully schedule these sessions, ensuring he never depleted himself to the point of vulnerability.

“Damn,” Adrian muttered, frustration surfacing briefly.

Back in the UNI-Hub, when he first realized he could experiment with divine concepts, he had thought he had found an instant jackpot, even thinking of many plans with it. That hope had quickly turned into the realization that this path would require long-term effort.

Now, when he thought this method could rapidly skyrocket his mana capacity, reality once again proved that the road ahead was long and demanding.

Adrian stood and walked to the viewport, staring out at the shifting void beyond. Stars streaked past in elongated trails, distorted by the ship’s velocity.

He placed a hand against the glass, feeling the faint vibration of the ship’s engines beneath his palm.

Adrian calmed himself. These paths were not blocked or sealed. They were simply time-consuming. And even so, they were still far better than anything available to ordinary cultivators.

He thought of the cultivators he had seen at the UNI-Hub, some of whom had likely spent millions of years reaching their current stage. Compared to that, his limitations were trivial.

Perhaps if he learned more about Willforce, or discovered a method to restore it faster, things could change. But for now, there was nothing more he could do. Continuing to dwell on it would gain him nothing.

Sighing, Adrian sat back and shifted his focus. He turned his attention to examining the results of the newly formed divine concept.

He sensed that his Mana Sea capacity had increased by roughly forty percent of its original size. Strangely, this felt underwhelming. The mid-tier Ruination concept had increased his capacity by nearly fifty percent. Did that mean this concept was weaker than expected?

Adrian frowned, running the numbers again in his mind. The math didn’t align with his expectations. A high-tier divine concept should have granted more proportional growth than a mid-tier one, yet the opposite appeared true.

He decided to verify immediately.

He summoned the newly formed divine concept and activated the UNI-OS stage detection system.

› Detected 1 Early Rule Stage — High-Tier Divine Concept

› Divine Concept: Unknown

› Estimated Authority Range: 20%

Adrian leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he studied the readout. It was indeed a high-tier divine concept, just as he had predicted. The UNI-OS couldn’t identify the concept itself, which made sense since he’d created something that didn’t exist in any database. So the discrepancy lay elsewhere.

As he thought deeply, the reason for the smaller percentage increase became clear immediately. His total mana capacity was no longer what it had been before. Percentage gains naturally diminished as the base grew larger.

“Of course,” Adrian muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. “It’s not proportional to existing reserves.”

Based on his rough estimates, his previous capacity was approximately 11,500 Mana Units. And now he could sense it had increased by around 5,000 Mana Units, bringing his total to roughly 16,500 Mana Units.

From all his experiments so far, Adrian formed a clear conclusion.

Each tier of divine concept granted a fixed increase in mana capacity, regardless of his existing reserves. From his observations so far, a low-tier divine concept granted around fifteen hundred Mana Units, a mid-tier granted roughly three thousand, and a high-tier granted approximately five thousand.

These increases did not scale with existing capacity. They were fixed values. So this meant that as his mana pool grew larger, each additional divine concept would contribute proportionally less. If Adrian wanted to double his mana capacity in the future, it would require significantly more effort.

Adrian shook his head slowly, accepting the reality. Growth would become increasingly expensive in terms of both resources and time. The initial surge he’d experienced from his first few divine concepts wouldn’t repeat itself indefinitely.

Still, compared to conventional cultivators who required millions of years and astronomical resource investments to expand their Mana Seas, his method remained absurdly efficient.

Adrian studied the purple-glowing divine concept hovering within his palm. The essence swirled in intricate patterns, five distinct threads of power woven together in harmonious contradiction. It was beautiful, in a way. Dangerous, certainly, but beautiful.

The Guardian Spirit had stated that the Void Sect’s first divine concept was ultimate-tier. Yet using the same arcane foundations, Adrian had only achieved a high-tier result. This confirmed that the Void Sect used different essential aspects and refined the concept.

Still, that did not discourage him. If he continued researching and refining his approach, there was no reason he could not eventually form an ultimate-tier divine concept, even if it differed from the Void Sect’s version.

The challenge excited him more than it frustrated him. He’d always learned fastest when forced to solve problems himself rather than following inherited methods.

Driven by that thought, Adrian attempted to continue his experiment.

He willed the five arcane concepts to begin moving again, preparing to split the newly created high-tier divine concept and once again merge the same arcane concepts differently, seeking a higher result.

The rule symbols responded to his intent, beginning to shift.

However, midway through the process, the familiar hollowness returned. His consciousness dulled, his thoughts slowed, and his control over the rule symbols vanished entirely.

The symbols scattered immediately, returning to their original positions as his grip on them failed. Adrian’s vision blurred at the edges, that same empty fog creeping back into his mind.

“Damn it,” he cursed, releasing his hold completely.

The sensation was identical to what he’d experienced after creating the high-tier concept.

“It seems my Willforce hasn’t fully recovered,” Adrian murmured quietly.

He pressed the heel of his palm against his temple, as though that might somehow restore clarity. It didn’t.

This confirmed that even after several hours of rest, his Willforce had only recovered enough to stabilize his consciousness. The moment he attempted to use it again, and it began draining, the weakness resurfaced.

Adrian stood slowly, steadying himself against the wall. The room tilted slightly before his balance returned. He walked to the viewport again, needing something external to focus on whilst his mind remained too hollow to think properly.

Outside, the void stretched endlessly, stars blurring into elongated streaks as the ship maintained its velocity through compressed space.

There was no choice but to stop for now. There was no rush. It had only been a full day, and they still had eight days of travel ahead. He simply needed to wait until his Willforce fully recovered before continuing.

Adrian watched the streaking stars for several minutes, letting the visual rhythm ground him. The hollowness began to recede again, though not as quickly as before. His second attempt at cultivation had drained him faster than the first, confirming that his Willforce reserves remained dangerously low.

With that understanding, Adrian withdrew from cultivation, already planning how to distribute his efforts carefully over the remaining days of the journey.

He would rest for at least another full day before attempting anything else. Perhaps two days, to ensure complete recovery. Then he could experiment again, but more conservatively this time, testing his limits without exceeding them.

Adrian turned away from the viewport and moved toward the door. He needed to check on the others, ensure Lyra was settling in properly, and confirm their route remained uninterrupted.

The door slid open with a soft hiss. Adrian stepped into the corridor, leaving the empty cultivation room behind.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep