As a lifelong novel lover, he knew exactly what kind of beings could enter someone's mind like this—ancient masters, hidden experts, heavenly legacies. If this person could guide him, make him strong, then why hesitate?
Even if he have to go india for this, he will definitely go. He could repay the Xing Nation later—once he became powerful enough, he could easily support his country, make it the ruler of the entire planet, and honor all the favors he had received.
The Heart Clone, watching Xinxuan's thoughts unfold clearly in the dream world, felt a good mood settle over him.
He had already calculated this outcome—Xinxuan's overthinking nature combined with his deep immersion in novels made him quick to recognize both danger and opportunity. The young man would jump at a chance like this.
The real issue had never been Xinxuan himself.
The problem was the Xing Nation—how would they ever allow their most valuable asset to leave their control?
But the Heart Clone didn't need to worry about that.
Mordan and the Indian government would handle the political storm head-on. He himself could remain completely in the shadows.
With a calm, steady voice, he replied.
"Yes. I want to take you as my disciple. I will provide you with resources, a cultivation system, techniques, and make you quite strong. But you know the rules, right?"
Xinxuan's heart leaped with joy—he had really received this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
But hearing about "rules," his mind instantly flashed to every classic master-disciple plot he had ever read.
He nodded seriously, voice respectful and earnest.
"Yes, I know the rules. I have to perform nine kowtows, swear an oath on the heavens' name that I will remain filial, never betray my master, and follow all the ceremonies—right?"
The Heart Clone paused for a moment, genuinely caught off guard by the sincerity and detail.
Then a soft, light chuckle escaped him—warm, melodic, and echoing gently through the entire dream world like a distant bell.
Even Xinxuan was surprised by the sound.
The laugh was mesmerizing, almost enchanting, yet he couldn't focus on that.
He was too busy wondering—why was this person suddenly laughing? Had he said something wrong?
The chuckle faded slowly, leaving only the quiet warmth in the air as the Heart Clone looked at him with faint amusement hidden beneath the calm mask of his expression.
The dream world waited, serene once more, for what would come next.
Then the Heart Clone's light chuckle gradually subsided, and he looked at Xinxuan with calm eyes, hiding the last traces of amusement as he spoke in a warm, steady voice.
"You don't have to perform any kowtows or ceremonies—this is the modern world, after all. You can simply call me Master sincerely. There are only two rules."
He paused briefly to let the words settle.
"First: you must give your loyalty. But it is not forever. You can always sever our master-disciple relationship whenever you choose."
Xinxuan's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but the Heart Clone continued without change in tone.
"The second, and most important rule: even if you sever the relationship in the future, you must never speak about me, my personal matters, my family, my places, or anyone related to me with others. That information stays between us."
The Heart Clone had no intention of allowing his subordinates or disciples to one day reveal details about him or his family to the public, turning private knowledge into a potential weakness for some future terrifying enemy.
If any of them ever broke this rule, he would not hesitate to punish them—even erase them from existence—without a shred of regret.
As for Xinxuan leaving someday? The Heart Clone felt no concern.
Xinxuan was talented now, yes, but in the future there would be many more—some far more terrifying. Resources would also continue to increase endlessly with Earth's rising essence flow. One disciple's departure would mean nothing in the grand scheme.
Xinxuan, hearing these rules, felt a small shock ripple through him.
He had expected strict oaths, blood pacts, heavenly vows—things that bound disciples forever, as in so many novels he had read.
Yet this person allowed freedom to leave, without fear of wasted effort or betrayal.
It was completely different from the usual plots.
Still, he didn't question it aloud—the rules were set by this mysterious figure, and he had no power to change them.
Instead, he spoke sincerely, voice filled with genuine respect.
"Sir… even though you have given permission to leave, I am not an ungrateful person. Even if I ever part from your side one day, I will still try my best to return every favor you have given me."
Then he bowed deeply before the figure, forehead nearly touching the dream-ground, and spoke with complete sincerity.
"Master."
He understood the second rule perfectly.
He himself would never want his personal information spread in public—it was basic caution.
In novels, some masters used soul restrictions or oaths to seal disciples' lips, but this person chose trust instead.
That made him feel… trustworthy.