Thump! Thump! Thump!
Violent knocking shook the dormitory door, betraying the agitated state of the person outside.
Click—
"An Zhen, you absolute—!"
Wang Dong'er stood fuming, arms full of bedding. Her face flushed crimson—not from barging into a boy's dorm at night, but pure indignation.
"Such language doesn't suit a lady," An Zhen replied calmly. Yet in his obsidian eyes, something murky coalesced, threads of emotion fraying away.
"And you have the gall to say that?!" Earlier, just as she'd settled into bed, an unusual fragrance had caught her attention. Turning, she'd seen Huo Yutong enveloped in a haze of azure mist. Recalling the prize An Zhen had won from that sixth-year "King Turtle," Wang Dong'er knew instantly: Profound Water Pills. She refused to believe he'd been unaware of the pill's aftereffects.
While stunned that An Zhen would use a treasure worth tens of thousands of gold soul coins on Huo Yutong—someone he'd met barely a day or two ago—Wang Dong'er was far angrier that he'd let her take it at night.
Where am I supposed to sleep?!
The thought of seeking refuge here flashed through her mind. Instantly, her dreamlike pink-blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. Clad in modest pajamas, she shifted her weight, fists clenched and ready.
"You knew about the Profound Water Pill. Admit it—this was deliberate!"
"Deliberate how?" An Zhen rose, pulling a soft fleece blanket from his wardrobe.
Suddenly, he stepped forward, closing the distance until Wang Dong'er was backed against the wall. His handsome face wore an infuriatingly calm smile as she raised a delicate, warning fist.
"Could it be… Wang Dong'er thinks I engineered this just to share a room with you?"
"Wasn't it?!" She silently vowed that if he harbored even a shred of such scoundrel intentions, her fist would meet his face.
"The thought never crossed my mind." An Zhen shook his head gently, then retreated to a respectful distance. His voice softened. "Stay here tonight. I'll find somewhere else."
"…?"
Had she misjudged him?
Before she could process it, An Zhen was already moving. He draped the blanket over his arm, then tossed two objects in a smooth arc onto his bed. "The dorm keys."
"You're serious?"
"Stay or don't." The reply was icy.
"!"
"You dare snap at me?!" Wang Dong'er caught the edge in his tone. But as she prepared to retort, the boy—his steps unsteady—vanished around the corner.
"Hmph! Serves you right!"
SLAM! The door shut with petulant force.
"Not snapping at you, really…"
An Zhen sighed wearily as he exited the dorm building. His eyes, however, churned with visible struggle.
This was the backlash of overexerting his Martial Soul.
A soul could shape its Martial Soul through will or innate talent. Conversely, a Martial Soul could shape its bearer. Take the Evil Fire Phoenix, or those instantly branded as Dark Soul Masters upon awakening—labels born not of prejudice, but bitter history. A powerful Martial Soul was like a sentient divine artifact: mastering it forged a peerless warrior; failing meant becoming a slave to its power.
World Modulation Mode.
Or simply, World.
Undoubtedly, an immensely powerful Martial Soul.
His innate full soul power wasn't its limit—it was his body's. Unlike the God's Bloodline of Spirit Hall's Qian family, blessed with generational divine trials, he had no such heritage.
If his Martial Soul was the World…
Then what am I?
Heavenly Dao.
An Zhen had found the term in his past life's myths. The Heavenly Dao was ruthless yet impartial—a machine devoid of thought or feeling, ensuring the World's orderly function.
His Martial Soul autonomously absorbed cosmic energy, endlessly strengthening his spirit. It sounded like cheating.
But nothing came without cost.
The erosion—his gradual transformation into the Heavenly Dao—was the price.
Normally, the corrosion was negligible, barely affecting daily life. Yet whenever the World grew substantially (by devouring pure cosmic energy, like sacred sites), whenever his authority expanded (gaining a soul ring), or after overexertion like tonight… the erosion surged.
The World rejected him.
His Martial Soul eroded him.
Hah. Getting stronger really isn't easy.
At least the former issue was resolved—Huo Yutong anchored him against rejection.
For the latter, An Zhen had his methods.
Heavenly Dao. Human Nature.
If his Martial Soul sought to make him an emotionless Heavenly Dao…
He'd resist by amplifying his emotions. Or by adding anchors to his humanity.
Ultimately, he'd master it all!
'Thankfully, this body matured early… otherwise certain solutions would be awkward.'
'But who to seek out this time?'
Though he couldn't instantly reset his state via the virtual world, using it was equally effective—harmless to others, sparing him from the… youthful indiscretions of someone like Ma Hongjun.
The unsteady boy wandered the moonlit campus. Beneath a sky full of stars, a silver moon hung high, casting rippling light over the lake that turned its daytime blue into a shimmering nocturne.
"This is… Shrek Lake?" Shrek Academy's only large lake bore that name.
"Outer Court student?"
A cool, crisp voice spoke beside him.
An Zhen turned. Under the speaker's puzzled gaze, he closed his eyes.
Virtual World.
Second Soul Skill: Imprint.
He reopened them.
"Yeah."
"If you're in trouble, find a teacher." The tall, crimson figure left only those words. Then, the cool night temperature spiked abruptly. Scarlet flames coalesced into the elegant form of a blazing bird, engulfing her before streaking like a meteor across the lake's surface.
"Seems I was misunderstood."
Pale face, frail appearance—wandering at night with a blanket, far from his dorm.
Shaking his head, An Zhen spread the large blanket on the grassy shore, lay down, and pulled a corner over his abdomen.
Virtual World.
Second Soul Skill: Imprint.
By the virtual Shrek Lake, a red boot pressed into the earth.
The woman was breathtaking.
Fiery crimson hair cascaded like living flame. Beneath her bangs lay a heart-shaped face, flawless in its twenties prime. Sharp, cool lines added an edge to her devastating beauty. An ornate red gown hugged her figure, its neckline plunging to frame a breathtaking swell of cleavage.
"Assign Reality. Relationship: Passionate Lovers." The virtual deity commanded.
"An Zhen?" A voice tinged with confusion spoke.
Instantly, soft, ample warmth pressed against the boy's cheek.
"Like a dream—absurd, yet beautiful."
An Zhen rarely endowed projections with true emotion. They were illusions, after all. Yet their fabricated sweetness was dangerously alluring.
Tonight, though, he'd simply indulge.
As his body matured, the long-dormant desires of his twenty-something soul had reawakened.
Eyes full of artificial tenderness gazed at her "lover" in confusion. Then she leaned in, offering her lips. A false, fervent love transmitted itself to the very real boy.
Another tall, identical figure appeared beside them. Clad in a maid uniform revealing generous pale skin, her long, shapely legs sheathed in sheer black hose, she mirrored the first woman perfectly.
(End of Chapter)