In the northern reaches of Pulkina, the once-quiet city of Mulkia had transformed into a hive of energy. Cultivators from across the continent had gathered—sect banners fluttered, artifacts glimmered in the air, and the dense murmur of powerful discussions ech-oed through the stone-paved streets. The city, known for its peaceful silence, now trembled under the weight of tension and ambition.
This turmoil had a singular source: the discovery of a new dungeon.
Rumors, both wild and credible, spread like wildfire. Some claimed the dungeon held divine inheritances. Others whispered of sealed powers from an age long lost. But no matter the story, every major power had their eyes on it.
The most prominent among these factions was the Allied Force—an unprecedented cooperation be-tween the four great sects of the northern region, now unified alongside the prestigious Knight Soul Academy.
Inside the central military hall of Mulkia, all key fig-ures were assembled. On one side stood the sect leaders—Lazzar, Wahan, Ahanka, and Jinia—their presence heavy with authority. They faced two indi-viduals who stood at the helm of strategy: the re-fined Juvika and the stalwart Helmen. The atmos-phere was sharp and serious as plans unfolded.
Juvika spoke first, her voice calm but direct.
"As per our research, only cultivators below Saint Level 8 can enter the core of the dungeon. Only they can retrieve the true treasures—the keys."
She paused, letting the implications settle.
"This dungeon is not ordinary," she continued. "It's linked to the Sky-Class Sects. Eight hundred years ago, there were ten such sects in the land of Taizen. Their power rivaled even the nations. Only the Heaven-Class Sects stood above them."
A few elders exchanged knowing looks.
"Today, these sects are hidden—possibly preparing for something greater. But that is a matter for anoth-er day. For now, what concerns us is this: three of those sky-class sects are tied to this dungeon. Their heritage lies within. Whoever claims it will receive a massive power surge... and a head start in what's coming."
She stopped again. The room was silent—tense.
"There are three such dungeons discovered across Taizen," Juvika said, eyes narrowing. "And if we're not mistaken, Heaven-Class Sects may already be moving."
After another brief pause, she shifted her gaze to a group of younger cultivators standing quietly behind the discussion table.
"These are the new generation participants."
Her eyes lingered on each one—Morlen, Kashant, Humera, Elisa, and Luzi—representatives of Knight Soul Academy.
A sigh escaped Juvika's lips. A private thought passed through her mind.
These children… not bad. But not strong enough. Even the most advanced among them is only at the pinnacle of Saint Level 1. That won't be enough if they're cornered.
Her gaze then moved towards her personal stu-dent—Johan—who stood near the tall glass window, his posture upright, expression reserved. His eyes, however, were fixed not on the discussion—but on a girl standing silently on the far end of the room.
She wore a simple white dress, and her beauty was nothing short of ethereal. She stood apart from eve-ryone—detached, quiet, unreadable.
Chiara.
For Johan, it felt like love at first sight—though he kept his emotions tightly controlled. He remembered what his teacher, Juvika, had drilled into him: never lose composure.
Juvika turned to look at him, then at Chiara, and her eyes subtly widened.
She tried to sense Chiara's level—but couldn't.
Not because Chiara was stronger, she realized. But because something powerful—immensely power-ful—was shielding her.
Suddenly, a voice entered her mind—an old, raspy tone.
"Don't worry about Chiara. She's one of those."
It was a message sent through telepathy.
Juvika gave a faint nod, understanding more than she showed.
"And don't worry about this generation," the voice added. "Someone else is coming… someone im-portant."
Her gaze sharpened as she began selecting which juniors would fight during the dungeon's final phase—a stage where betrayal and greed would boil over. Keys may be earned honorably, but keeping them would require real strength.
Most leaders here stood at Emperor Level 2. Hel-men, their unshakable wall, was slightly stronger—he had reached the pinnacle of that realm.
But Juvika's attention was suddenly pulled away. Her eyes landed on a woman cloaked in modest robes, standing near the outer balcony, looking out over the city.
She radiated a gentle aura—Emperor Level 3—but Juvika knew better.
That woman was Shuna.
Sixteen years ago, her name had spread across battle-fields like wildfire. A genius of Qingming, once hailed as one of the continent's most talented warri-ors.
Sensing her gaze, Shuna turned.
They exchanged a knowing smile—one born of his-tory, of fights shared and blood spilled together. Ju-vika already knew what Shuna was thinking.
Everything was falling into place.
Four days later.
A tremor shook Mulkia. The seal of the dungeon be-gan to flicker.
All the great powers gathered at the entrance. The once-silent mountain now echoed with voices, ban-ners, and rising tension.
Among the crowd emerged a familiar figure—an old man with a warm smile.
"Shuna. Looks like you've fully recovered."
It was Keal, from the Kreek Union Sect.
After a brief discussion, Juvika gave her decision. The Kreek Union Sect would ally with the Allied Force. With their strength added, no other faction could match their raw power.
Until...
Five dark shadows approached casually.
With them came six more—clearly their junior repre-sentatives.
The moment Helmen saw them, his expression twist-ed in fury. He took a step forward, ready to attack, but Juvika raised a hand.
"Not yet."
At the front of the group stood a tall man with mul-tiple piercings, his body wrapped in shadowy mist. He spoke with biting sarcasm.
"Well, well. Look who they sent to babysit Helmen again—the mighty Juvika."
Then, his tone shifted.
"Tell me, Helmen… how long will you hide behind her?"
Helmen clenched his jaw and said nothing.
Tension crackled in the air.
Each group began sending in their next-generation cultivators. The dark faction released their six jun-iors. From the Allied Force stepped Morlen, Kashant, Humera, Elisa, Luzi, Johan, and Niharika.
Chiara stood apart—alone.
The six shadows around the dark juniors radiated oppressive pressure. Four of them were Saint Level 5, one was Saint Level 6, and another—quiet and focused—was Saint Level 7. His name was Dakra. He didn't mock or boast. He was here for the mis-sion.
The others, however, sneered, targeting the Allied juniors.
Everyone except Chiara was visibly affected by the pressure.
The elders couldn't interfere—if they did, the shad-ows would move as well.
Chiara didn't care for these people. She was indif-ferent. But when they tried to press down on her too, she finally prepared to act.
Then suddenly—
A piercing sword intent sliced through the air.
An overwhelming, monstrous pressure fell upon the six shadows in an instant. Their mockery ceased.
Across the field, a smile appeared on Kiana's lips.
So he's here.
She had already sensed him from afar.
A few paces away, Shuna's brows lifted ever so slightly. Recognition dawned in her eyes, and a soft smile formed. She too knew exactly whose sword in-tent had just blanketed the battlefield.
Keal ,paused and inhaled. A faint sigh escaped his chest—not from fatigue, but awe.
"That Intent…" he murmured under his breath.
Seeing his allies falter, Dakra raised his hand. A sheet of dense energy emerged and wrapped around his group, nullifying the pressure. It was efficient—but even then, the five shadows were visibly shaken. Cold sweat formed. None of them dared move.
Around the gathering, low-grade swords strapped to junior cultivators' backs began trembling. The hilts buzzed faintly. The blades pointed downward, their edges humming. It was as though the swords them-selves were bowing—acknowledging a presence they recognized as their master.
Then, quietly a lone figure in black stepped out from the distant crowd. Hooded, face partially shadowed, the figure walked at an even pace, his presence nei-ther rushed nor hesitant. His black robes swayed lightly with each step as if the wind parted for him rather than opposed him.
He approached the seal casually, unhurried, his gaze unreadable beneath the hood.
Elisa, standing near the edge of the group, narrowed her eyes to get a better look. After a moment, she let out a breath and muttered under it, "…this bastard sure knows how to make an entrance."
Her words weren't full of annoyance—they carried a hint of reluctant admiration.
All eyes were now drawn to the mysterious new-comer. None recognized him by appearance alone. His cultivation level was hidden too well for most senses to grasp. But for a few—like Kiana, Shuna, and Keal—it wasn't about what they saw. It was what they felt.
Juvika, standing with the elders, frowned slightly. Her spiritual sense extended toward him, but again, she found nothing. No clear reading of cultivation, no essence signature. Just silence. Her instincts told her enough—this figure wasn't someone to be taken lightly.
Kiana's voice came softly through telepathy, di-rected to Juvika alone.
"Don't worry. He can handle those shadows."
The hooded boy stood still for a moment near the seal, scanning the crowd in silence. His gaze, though hidden to most, lingered for a brief second on Chi-ara—whose calm, expressionless face didn't change.
Then, his attention turned toward Shuna. A small smile curved beneath the shadow of his hood. He had seen her condition before. Now, he could sense it—she was healed. Fully.
He turned his attention to the broader crowd. His eyes moved quietly across the mountain range, scan-ning the groups. He could sense some powerful indi-viduals, but none of them gave him any real pause.
…Until his gaze locked with someone else. A single figure—dressed in plain white robes—stood still in the far corner, also observing him. Unlike the others, this person's level was hidden completely, veiled be-hind some unknown force. Sheo couldn't sense any-thing—no aura, no presence—just… stillness.
It didn't feel hostile. But it wasn't ordinary either.
As he narrowed his eyes slightly, a familiar voice echoed calmly in his mind.
"Head to the extreme northeast point once you're in-side. I can sense the presence of the Seven-Life Tree. They won't notice it—it's too well hidden. This is your chance."
It was Nisach, speaking through thought.
Sheo didn't reply out loud. By now, he was used to the old spirit reading his thoughts.
"Fine, fine. I'll go."
Just then, the ancient seal began to shift. A deep, grinding hum resonated from the dungeon gate, fol-lowed by a sequence of low creaks. The formation, which had been sealed for centuries, began to open.
No one moved.
A few reckless cultivators tried to enter first—but a sudden blast of wild energy erupted from the gate, vaporizing them before they could even scream.
That was the warning.
The real entrance began with the second pulse. Most prepared themselves.
Standing a few meters behind the main group, the hooded boy closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. He didn't need a signal—he already knew when to move. His Space Heart pulsed, and the 9 Paths Movement Technique surged gently within him.
The third wave came.
In a blink, his figure vanished.
No sound. No flare of power. Just a shift in the air—silent and clean—as if space itself folded around him.
And in that same heartbeat, a pair of dark, phantom-like wings burst open behind him, then disappeared just as fast, carrying him through the seal. His pres-ence vanished into the air without a trace.
But just as he crossed into the dungeon realm, he no-ticed something. A faint glimmer of light, right be-side him—almost overlapping him for the briefest moment.
Another person had entered at the exact same in-stant.
No words were exchanged. No acknowledgment. Just two paths diverging silently into the vast un-known.
The sealed dungeon had opened just a few hours ago, but already the mountain plains were trembling with activity. Cultivators from every corner had be-gun preparing themselves. This dungeon wasn't only for the new generation—many older cultivators had their own entry paths. Their routes were different, but the final destination was the same.
Murmurs filled the atmosphere. Even though the sit-uation was tense, there was a strange excitement in the air. Members of the allied forces adjusted their robes, checked their artifacts, and reviewed plans in silence.
Juvika stood still, staring at the shimmering seal as faint energy pulses danced across its surface. She took a deep breath.
"So this is the true power of the seal…"
Kiana, standing a few steps away, glanced sideways and nodded.
"This seal was crafted by one of Ritwik Chandela's direct disciples—Kabra. She wasn't his strongest disciple, but her mastery in formations was on a whole different level."
Everyone nearby turned toward Kiana, expressions mixed with surprise and disbelief. That name alone was enough to silence conversations.
Ritwik Chandela—an immortalized name in the world of formations. He wasn't just respected by formation masters but admired even by martial culti-vators. It was Ritwik who had sacrificed his life to seal the Grand Demonic Dimension that once threat-ened the entire Taizen continent. His actions, along-side the efforts of other powerhouses, had severed most connections between Taizen and the realm of shadows. While not all remnants were cleansed, many major threats had been locked away.
As his name echoed through whispers, a cold silence spread. Far from being pleased, the five cloaked shadows standing across the plain clenched their jaws in annoyance. Their expressionless faces didn't reveal much, but the tension around them thickened slightly.
And then, with a sudden tremor, the last layer of the seal unraveled. Without any grand declaration, a dull hum spread as beams of light wrapped around vari-ous groups. In a flash, cultivators of all ranks began entering the dungeon.
Inside, the folding space was massive—spanning across forests, icy lands, volcanic plains, dunes, high mountains, and endless ravines. Every terrain imagi-nable was present, seemingly stitched together by ancient hands.
Juvika turned to her group. "Stick to the plan," she said calmly. Her tone didn't waver, even as the shift-ing winds hinted that this trial wouldn't be a simple one.
Elsewhere—far from the other groups, lightning danced across a dark storm cloud above a barren land. Sheo shot through the chaos, dodging strikes of electricity.
"I swear, if your sensing is off, I'm throwing you in-to the void," Sheo muttered.
A familiar voice echoed in his head.
"Stop complaining and pick up the pace."
He clicked his tongue and let lightning wrap around his legs and arms. In a flash, he vanished, reappear-ing just outside the storm's reach. Despite the frustra-tion, he knew Nisach wasn't wrong. The location of the 7-Life Tree was so far removed and buried be-hind so many trials, there was no way anyone else had sensed it.
"Still… how the hell did you?"
By now, he'd already passed eight trials. This light-ning storm was the ninth. With one last thundering hum, Sheo passed through the final layer, and his feet touched the ground of a vast forest.
What caught his attention wasn't the scenery, but the blinking notification on his gene tablet.
"7-Life Tree Detected."
"Folding space eligible for accumulation."
He gave a short nod. "This thing really is useful." With a flick of thought, he activated the accumula-tion process. A faint aura began seeping through the air, slowly wrapping around the space.
But he didn't wait. His gaze locked on the massive tree standing quietly in the middle of the forest. As he approached, a wave of pure, ancient energy surged into his body, instantly refreshing his ex-hausted soul.
Nisach spoke again, tone flat as ever.
"To truly control your power, your body and soul must grow as well. Until now, you've trained only your energy. The 7-Life Tree can strengthen your soul… but first, defeat its guardian."
As if on cue, a low rumble echoed through the trees. A deafening roar followed—and at the same mo-ment, a warning flashed on his tablet.
"Accumulation paused. Living entity detected."
Sheo floated higher into the air. Just then, a massive blue-furred tiger burst from the forest. Its ocean-like eyes glared at him.
"That's a big one," he muttered.
The beast was a pinnacle Saint Level 9, and Sheo knew—if he had still been his past self, this thing would've torn him to pieces.
A soft voice entered his mind.
"Master, shall I handle it?"
His Arctic Dragon. But Sheo shook his head. both False Star and surprisingly his
"No need. I've been waiting to test my power since breaking through. Let's not waste this."
He descended slowly, the Destroyer Wings fading behind him as his feet touched the ground. He flicked his fingers, and a majestic blue sword ap-peared in his grip. The False Star Sword. Though its true power was sealed, it had proven to be a perfect match for both False Star and surprisingly his Death Sword Technique—especially now that his low San-tara-level sword mind could guide it.
Without another word, the forest trembled once more as the battle began.
—
Elsewhere, the new generation of the allied force had begun moving. Johan walked at the front, his gaze sweeping across the terrain. His brows fur-rowed slightly.
"She vanished the moment we entered…"
He didn't say the name out loud, but everyone knew—he was talking about Chiara.
Behind him, Luzi struggled slightly to keep pace, but she didn't complain. Surprisingly, she and Niharika had become quite friendly over time, mostly due to their shared hobby: cursing Sheo.
…Though these days, neither of them really meant it.
Elisa, walking with a quiet calm, finally sighed.
"That bastard. Who knows where he went…"
She quietly slipped her hand into her pocket and touched the token Sheo had given her.
"If anything bad happens, break it. Immediately," he'd said.
Among them, only Elisa knew Sheo was here.
Their group soon reached a deep mountain valley. A wide cave opened before them. Johan raised a hand, motioning everyone to halt. He turned back.
"If the rumors are true, a key might be inside. Let's proceed carefully."
The dungeon's time was distorted—one hour in the real world passed as ten hours inside. While many focused only on the three Sky-Class sects' legacies, countless other sect remnants and treasures were scattered throughout this vast space.
The rules were simple: no cultivator above Saint Level 7 could interfere with the juniors. That didn't mean people didn't fight. Greed was far stronger than rules.
So far, only two major factions dominated the space—The Allied Forces and the mysterious Shad-ows. A third group, though less dominant, still stood firm—the united sects of Pulkina, led by the crowned king.
Among the available treasures were three rumored artifacts:
The Celestial Gem Catalyst, ranked 87th among rare treasures.
The Crimson Fang Daggers, ranked 88th.
The Helix Gemstone, known to refine energy at a deep level.
Meanwhile, far from all this—near a frozen land-scape—a group of cultivators moved quickly, ex-citement brimming in their eyes. One of them whis-pered, "That map… it really might lead to the Celes-tial Gem Catalyst."
But as they arrived at their destination, the words froze in their throats.
Their feet trembled. Mouths opened but no sound came. Before them lay a scene of utter devastation.
Dozens of guardian beasts—eagles, bears, croco-diles—lay dead in a heap, as if tossed aside like bro-ken dolls. The trial zone was completely destroyed, shattered into fragments. Not a single structure was intact.
And atop the frozen chaos stood a lone figure—draped in simple white robes, a hood masking the face. Not even a drop of blood marked the robes. The cultivator held a small orb, spinning it between fingers in silence.
The witnesses stared, breath caught.
They were not fools. Even if each of them teamed up, they wouldn't have been able to bring down even one of those beasts alone. Yet someone had cleared this place single-handedly—and done so without effort.
In silent horror, they turned and fled.
The white-cloaked figure watched them vanish, sigh-ing.
"This is getting boring. Why did they send me here ? When I asked for a vacation, this wasn't what I meant…"
He twirled the orb again and murmured,
"Maybe I'll grab a key on the way. I wonder how strong that cultivator is..."
A faint smile spread across the figure's lips. And just like that, he disappeared—gone as if he'd never been there at all.