Silence.
Lizarius remained suspended within the endless white world.
His gaze swept across the blank horizon.
*...Impossible.*
He reached the conclusion almost immediately.
He could accelerate time.
He could reshape the dream.
But—
he could not recreate reality.
Not perfectly.
He lacked the necessary information.
Countless details were missing.
The child herself had lived for barely two years.
Her memories were incomplete.
Simple.
She knew only her mother and father.
Her maids.
Her room.
The small garden.
Nothing beyond that.
As for himself—
the memories he had observed belonged to countless different people.
Fragments.
Pieces.
Never the whole world.
His thoughts remained calm.
*A perfect recreation...*
*Cannot be achieved.*
Silence.
Then—
another thought surfaced.
*...It doesn't need to be.*
His purpose had never been to recreate reality.
Only—
to observe.
To test.
To answer a single question.
His gaze slowly lifted.
*Then...*
*I'll create one.*
The endless white world trembled.
His consciousness expanded throughout the dream.
Countless ripples spread in every direction.
One after another—
figures gradually appeared.
Men.
Women.
Children.
The elderly.
None possessed names.
None possessed histories.
Only empty shells.
Lizarius quietly observed them.
Then—
he began.
Not by copying consciousness.
Nor by recreating real people.
Instead—
he used the countless memories he had gathered as foundations.
A smile from one memory.
A habit from another.
A personality.
A manner of speaking.
A way of laughing.
A way of grieving.
Thousands upon thousands of tiny fragments quietly intertwined.
Each empty shell gradually became complete.
Not replicas.
Not copies.
Entirely new individuals.
Each possessed their own thoughts.
Their own emotions.
Their own desires.
The dream itself quietly completed whatever remained unfinished.
As though reality instinctively filled every empty space.
Moments later—
the first voice echoed.
"...Morning."
Another answered.
"...You're awake already?"
Children laughed.
Merchants argued.
Someone sighed.
Someone cried.
The empty white world gradually transformed.
Roads stretched into the distance.
Buildings slowly rose.
Trees swayed beneath a gentle breeze.
Mountains appeared upon the horizon.
Clouds drifted lazily overhead.
The world breathed.
Not because Lizarius consciously commanded every detail—
but because the dream had begun sustaining itself.
Each inhabitant believed their life was real.
Without question.
Without hesitation.
Without ever realizing they had only just come into existence.
Lizarius silently observed.
*...Sufficient.*
His crimson eyes finally settled upon the little girl.
She continued staring at him.
"...Tiny?"
Without replying—
he extended a single claw.
Space rippled softly.
The world beneath them shifted.
The little girl's surroundings dissolved into countless particles of light.
Her consciousness gently descended into the newly created world.
A home gradually appeared.
A quiet courtyard.
A young couple.
Then—
the cry of a newborn infant echoed through the room.
A new life...
Had begun.
Not as a continuation of the old one—
but as the beginning of another possibility.
From this moment onward—
Lizarius would simply watch.
To see what kind of person...
Time itself would create.
---
Time flowed.
Far faster than it ever should.
Above the endless white heavens—
the invisible current of time had become completely distorted.
Outside—
barely a few heartbeats passed.
Inside—
days quietly slipped away.
Then—
weeks.
Months.
Years.
---
Lizarius never intervened again.
He merely watched.
Observed.
Recorded.
The simulation unfolded exactly as he had intended.
Nothing was forced.
Nothing was predetermined.
Every person within that world possessed their own thoughts.
Their own personalities.
Their own desires.
They laughed.
Argued.
Loved.
Hated.
Made mistakes.
Learned from them.
To the girl—
none of it felt artificial.
It was simply...
Her life.
---
The little girl gradually grew.
Her childish speech became clear.
Her steps became steady.
Her curiosity only deepened.
Soon—
the day of cultivation arrived.
Several clan elders examined the younger generation.
She stood quietly among the other children.
One small hand rested upon the crystal.
Spiritual qi stirred.
"...High-grade three-element spirit root."
The elder smiled.
"...Excellent."
Excitement spread throughout the clan.
Praise followed wherever she went.
Yet—
nothing was said about the dormant bloodline.
Just as before.
Life continued.
---
Time accelerated.
She learned to read.
To write.
To cultivate.
She spent countless mornings practicing sword forms beneath the rising sun.
Afternoons studying cultivation manuals.
Evenings listening to stories told by the clan elders.
She laughed with the other children.
Lost.
Won.
Fell.
Stood up again.
The simulation naturally filled every empty space.
The countless gaps left by reality...
Were quietly completed through the memories Lizarius had gathered from humanity.
Every personality.
Every habit.
Every conversation.
Blended together.
None of them perfectly resembled any single individual.
Yet—
each felt alive.
Even Lizarius quietly acknowledged it.
*...They're becoming increasingly independent.*
They no longer behaved like puppets.
Every decision they made...
Belonged to them.
Not him.
---
Years continued passing.
Her cultivation steadily advanced.
Spirit Refining.
First Layer.
Second.
Third.
Fourth.
She never rushed.
She simply continued moving forward.
Like countless cultivators before her.
---
Far above—
outside the simulation—
Lizarius remained motionless.
Watching everything unfold.
His golden eyes reflected every passing year.
Nothing escaped his observation.
Not a single expression.
Not a single choice.
Not a single change.
He wasn't observing her cultivation.
Nor her talent.
He was observing...
Her.
Waiting.
To discover whether the invisible restraint within himself would eventually disappear...
Or remain exactly as it had been.
The years continued flowing onward.
Lizarius never once looked away.
He watched.
Nothing more.
---
The little girl continued growing.
Childhood gradually became a distant memory.
Her appearance matured.
Her thoughts became increasingly complex.
Her cultivation steadily advanced.
Late Spirit Refining.
Then—
Foundation Establishment.
The heavenly tribulation descended.
She survived.
Successfully stepping into the Foundation Establishment Realm.
Time continued.
She travelled.
Experienced the world.
Made allies.
Made enemies.
Killed.
And nearly lost her own life in return.
She learned suspicion.
Learned caution.
Learned that mercy often demanded a price.
She changed.
Not all at once.
But little by little.
Year after year.
Her temperament gradually hardened.
The innocent child who had once smiled at a tiny white lizard no longer existed.
Only faint traces remained.
---
Another decade quietly passed.
Her cultivation reached the middle stage of Foundation Establishment.
Her reputation slowly spread.
Several sects attempted to recruit her.
She refused every one of them.
Eventually—
after a chain of conflicts, betrayals, and an unrelenting pursuit of greater strength—
she chose another path.
The Demonic Dao.
She entered a demonic sect.
Not because she delighted in slaughter.
Nor because she had descended into madness.
Simply because...
It offered what the righteous sects never could.
Strength.
Freedom.
Resources.
Years quietly passed once more.
She steadily rose through the ranks.
Disciple.
Core Disciple.
Protector.
Finally—
Elder.
Her cultivation gradually approached its limit.
Late Foundation Establishment.
Peak Foundation Establishment.
The simulation continued unfolding naturally.
Everything arose from countless choices.
Not predetermined.
Not manipulated.
Simply...
Lived.
---
Outside the simulation—
Lizarius remained suspended within the endless white world.
His eyes quietly reflected the passing decades.
His thoughts calmly calculated.
*...Five hours.*
*Forty-four minutes.*
Another calculation immediately followed.
*...Forty-seven years.*
*Three months.*
Silence.
His gaze remained fixed upon the woman.
*...Sufficient.*
She was no longer a child.
No longer even young by the standards of cultivators.
Nearly half a century of experience had shaped every aspect of her existence.
If the restraint remained even now—
then age had never been the determining factor.
Only one test remained.
His thoughts quietly settled.
*...She will die.*
There was no emotion behind the conclusion.
Only necessity.
He quietly observed the future already unfolding.
The simulation continued.
The woman entered seclusion.
Preparing for her breakthrough.
Tribulation clouds gradually gathered above the mountain.
Purple lightning crawled endlessly across the heavens.
She opened her eyes.
Spiritual qi surged toward her from every direction.
Her cultivation reached its absolute peak.
The heavens answered.
The first bolt descended.
Then the second.
The third.
She endured.
Blood stained her robes.
Her aura steadily weakened.
The final bolt gathered.
Far more terrifying than every strike before it combined.
It descended.
The mountain exploded beneath its impact.
The heavens roared.
Silence followed.
When the lightning finally dispersed—
nothing remained.
Only scattered fragments.
The breakthrough had failed.
Her life ended there.
The instant her consciousness vanished—
the entire simulation came to a halt.
The mountains froze.
The wind fell silent.
Every person.
Every tree.
Every cloud.
Everything gradually dissolved into countless white fragments.
The world quietly collapsed.
Returning once more...
To endless white.
Silence.
Lizarius remained exactly where he had always been.
Watching the place where she had disappeared.
His expression never changed.
Now—
only one answer remained.
To discover it.