Merin opens his eyes and finds himself standing in a vast, shadowed hall.

The walls stretch into darkness, swallowing the faint glow of the void.

At the centre sits a child on a chair, legs dangling, gaze calm and unblinking.

The child’s aura feels weak—no stronger than a mortal.

But Merin dares not believe it.

A black mist coils around the figure, and from within that mist, countless terrifying auras ripple outward, each heavy enough to crush worlds.

Merin bows his head. “Senior, what help do you require of me?”

The child’s voice is soft but steady. “To conquer a world.”

Merin’s brows knit. “For that, I would be of no use. If even Senior finds conquering a world difficult, then it would be impossible for me.”

The child shakes his head. “Your combat strength is useless to me. You may not even be able to defeat one of my third-stage disciples.”

Merin stiffens.

The words pierce him like needles.

Humiliation burns in his chest, but he forces himself to remain silent.

To anger such an existence would mean death with a single thought.

The child—no, the Senior—smiles faintly. “You don’t believe me. Then fight one of my disciples. You will understand why I said you cannot defeat a third-stage.”

Merin straightens, fists tightening. “Yes.”

This is no longer just about the seniors’ words.

It is about his pride.

He fought tooth and nail to step into stage four, enduring thunder that could split the seas—yet now someone dares to say he cannot defeat a mere stage three.

He will prove them wrong.

Beside him, the air ripples.

A woman appears, her beauty sharp as a blade, her aura perfectly restrained.

Merin turns toward her, startled. “Hey, who—”

Then she notices the child.

Her tone softens instantly. “Master, what request do you have?”

The Senior points at Merin. “Fight and defeat this man.”

The woman’s eyes flicker toward him, a brief glance, nothing more.

“Yes, Master.”

Her voice is calm, indifferent, as though the outcome has already been decided.

Merin’s pride twists at the simple disregard.

He used to treat others with the same cold indifference.

But now, he is on the receiving end.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on NovelBin. Report any occurrences.

Rage and determination burn inside him.

He will not be dismissed as nothing.

The space around them twists and stretches, forming a vast arena where neither end can be seen.

The Senior’s voice echoes through the hall. “Now both of you can fight.”

Merin steadies his breath, eyes locked on the woman.

She meets his gaze without a flicker of emotion. “You can attack first.”

Merin’s jaw tightens. “Don’t mind me if I do.”

He draws upon his energy, channelling the law of lightning—though it has only reached stage four.

With a shout, he thrusts his palm forward.

Lightning bursts from his hand, crackling and weaving into a purple lance.

Thunder roars as it hurtles across the space toward the woman.

But she merely raises her hand, palm open.

A ripple spreads outward, faint yet overwhelming.

The lightning lance shatters into sparks and vanishes.

Merin’s eyes widen.

A stage-three cultivator just dispersed his full stage-four strike—effortlessly.

The woman’s calm voice cuts through the silence. “I think you can do better.”

Merin grits his teeth.

His pride will not let him stop here.

He summons his rune-painting and array spirit arts.

Lines of energy draw themselves in the air, forming into a massive figure.

A rune golem takes shape, its body immediately infused with his lightning law.

Cracks glow with purple light as it roars, surging forward and unleashing bolts of lightning.

The air trembles with power.

Yet, before the woman, all the bolts unravel midair, dissolving before they can reach her.

The golem itself shudders as another ripple spreads from her palm—then crumbles into fragments of light.

Cold sweat beads on Merin’s brow.

In his cultivation, his body should never falter this way.

But the pressure she exudes makes his chest tighten.

A stage-three… brushing aside everything he unleashes.

Desperation ignites into fury.

Merin draws his sword, lightning coursing along its edge.

With a roar, he charges forward, blade swinging with all his strength.

The woman steps aside with ease, her movements calm, precise.

Her hand presses lightly against his chest.

A ripple flows into his body.

Merin’s energy riots.

Pain surges through him as he collapses, sword clattering against the floor.

The woman doesn’t spare him another glance.

She turns to the Senior, bowing her head. “Master.”

The Senior’s voice remains calm. “You may go.”

At once, she vanishes, leaving Merin sprawled on the ground, struggling to breathe.

His chest aches, but what unsettles him more is the chaos inside his body.

Why did my energy suddenly riot when she touched me?

He feels it clearly—her strike didn’t just wound his body, it shattered the very foundation of his energy.

It is as if she broke apart the structure of his cultivation itself.

Such a thing should be impossible… unless his energy is not purified or condensed enough.

The realisation stings.

It mirrors the same flaw in his lightning law.

He has reached stage four, but its use remains clumsy, like a novice grasping at power without control.

The reason is simple—he always pushed forward in cultivation and comprehension, neglecting the application of Laws.

Now the weakness is laid bare.

He clenches his fists, pain burning through his body, and forces himself to stand.

The Senior’s calm voice carries through the vast room. “You may already have figured out why you lost.”

Merin bows his head. “Application of Law is not enough… and there are impurities in my energy.”

The Senior’s eyes gleam faintly within the mist. “Correct. And beyond that, you only understand the surface of the Laws. When your realm of Law deepens, you will see its true essence.”

Merin nods heavily, his pride wounded yet his mind clearer than before.

The Senior’s voice rolls through the dark chamber, calm but edged with weight. “You are lucky you advanced with your clone. Had you pushed your main body to stage four, you may never have reached stage five.”

Merin’s heart clenches, fear cutting through him. “Why?”

“Because your energy is not condensed enough. Your life essence lags far below the True Demigod realm—and so does your spirit.”

Merin stiffens. He knows well what that means. The True Demigod realm corresponds to the half-step of Rank Twenty-One. His cultivation now stands at Rank Twenty-One, but without essence and spirit reaching the same height, it is a hollow advancement.

The Senior continues, each word like a hammer striking truth into his heart. “If you wish to advance further, two of the three—essence, energy, or spirit—must first reach the True Demigod realm. Only then can you push the remaining one forward into stage four and form a strong base to advance to stage five.”

Merin lowers his gaze, mind racing. “What about the Laws?”

The Senior’s tone sharpens with subtle force. “Laws exist to be comprehended, not worshipped. Their purpose is to refine and transform your essence, energy, and spirit. Only then can you advance.”

Merin exhales slowly, nodding with resolve. “And stage five?”

The Senior’s form in the mist seems to ripple faintly, a hint of power pressing outward. “Complete my task. Do that, and I will tell you how to reach stage five.”

Merin straightens his back despite the pain, his voice steady. “Senior… what do you require me to do?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep