Aamon took a deep breath as he stepped into the heart of his newly merged territory. The air was different here—denser, calmer, brimming with spiritual energy. It was time.
The decision had been made. With six months until the entrance trial of the Astralis Dominion Academy, he would use this precious time for closed-door cultivation, pushing himself and his team as far as they could go.
Lysara, the domain overseer and former guardian of the secret realm, led them to a grove nestled in the innermost region of the Celastine Domain. At its center stood a majestic tree—the Clear Heart Tree.
It towered above them, its crystalline leaves shimmering with translucent emerald light. Every breeze that passed through its canopy left trails of sparkling mist in its wake. This was a treasure even in the higher realms. Its unique nature doubled cultivation efficiency, stabilized one's mind, and purified internal energy. For cultivators striving to break through, it was nothing short of a divine boon.
"This place is now yours," Lysara said softly. Her voice carried the faint weariness of a guardian who had spent too much of her strength. "The Clear Heart Tree will protect you as you grow. But for now, I must rest."
She gave them one final smile before stepping back into the spiritual flow of the domain. The immense effort of merging the secret realm into Aamon's territory had drained her. She needed time to recover, and so she entered a deep slumber, her essence fusing with the roots of the domain itself.
Aamon, Alexia, and Yue took their places beneath the Clear Heart Tree. They didn't speak. There was no need to. Each of them understood the importance of this moment.
Aamon sat cross-legged, golden hair brushing his shoulders as he slowly removed the pouch Lysara had given him—filled with rare cultivation resources, precious herbs, and refined essence stones. He placed them neatly before him and began.
As the Clear Heart Tree resonated with his presence, a wave of warmth enveloped him. His spiritual veins pulsed with energy as they opened wider, drawing in the purified essence like thirsty soil drinking rain.
The early days were spent refining his foundation. Aamon focused on stabilizing his 2nd Order cultivation, ensuring there were no flaws. His instincts sharpened, his internal flow of energy smoother, more responsive.
Days turned to weeks. Weeks into months.
The world outside seemed to fade into silence. Here beneath the tree, time felt like a still river. Occasionally, he would glance at Alexia or Yue and find them surrounded by swirling motes of power. Alexia's blood aura had grown dense and refined. Yue's spirit affinity now moved the elements around her naturally, like petals dancing in wind.
But it was Aamon who experienced the most profound transformation.
By the third month, he broke into the Third Order with ease. His body endured the pressure of evolution as his meridians and bones grew stronger. His instincts evolved—he no longer needed to consciously control his techniques. They flowed through him, smooth and adaptive, responding to the rhythm of battle he had ingrained into his being.
By the sixth month, the moment arrived.
The Fourth Order loomed before him like a mountain. But this time, there was no hesitation. He consumed a brilliant jade-green pill that burst with condensed life force, then activated the final meditation technique Lysara had imparted. Energy surged into him from all directions, the Clear Heart Tree glowing faintly as it focused its blessing on him.
Lightning roared within his veins. His muscles convulsed. His heart pounded like a war drum.
And then, silence.
A soft, golden glow enveloped him. When his eyes opened again, they shimmered with clarity. He had succeeded.
Aamon had broken through to the Fourth Order.
Alexia and Yue followed shortly after. Their breakthroughs were intense but harmonious—each adapting their evolution to their unique affinities and paths. From 1st Order to 4th Order in six months was not just incredible—it was terrifying. But such was the miracle of the Clear Heart Tree and their tireless effort.
When the six months finally ended, Aamon rose to his feet.
His appearance had changed.
His golden hair, once short and unruly, now flowed down to his waist in silken waves. Strands of silver had begun to appear—subtle but distinct—glimmering under the light like traces of divinity. His eyes had deepened in shade, emerald with flickers of light, as if they held within them the secrets of battle.
He wore no band to tie his hair. He didn't need to. It flowed freely, untamed and regal, like his spirit.
More than his appearance, it was his presence that had transformed.
He no longer radiated raw, untamed power. Instead, it was like standing near the calm before a storm—silent, but charged with controlled intensity. His energy flowed through him like a natural stream, no longer something he summoned, but something that existed as part of him.
His techniques had become instinct.
Every movement, every breath, every shift of his weight—it was all part of a fluid, adaptable battle rhythm. He no longer needed to "think" of fighting. He was the fight. The countless training sessions in the Genesis Realm, the desperate battles against kobolds, the duels of mind and spirit—it had all fused together.
Alexia stepped beside Aamon, her aura regal and sharp like a blade drawn beneath the moonlight. Her crimson eyes gleamed with restrained intensity, and a cool wind stirred the hem of her cloak as if in reverence to her presence.
Among the three, she had undergone the most dramatic transformation.
No longer did she resemble the sheltered noble girl of their former world. Months of bloodline tempering, countless battles in the Genesis Realm, and grueling cultivation under the Clear Heart Tree had reshaped her into something far greater—something more dangerous.
Her pale skin seemed to glow faintly, as if imbued with moonlight. The faint sigils of her bloodline would sometimes shimmer beneath her flesh when she was deep in thought or close to combat. But it was her control over her vampiric essence that had evolved most.
Alexia had mastered a forbidden blood technique—a skill once known only to ancient clans long since wiped out. It allowed her to store the blood she consumed in special blood cores she created within her body.
Each core throbbed with power.
She could tap into them at will, either to instantly heal wounds, amplify her speed, or unleash devastating blood art techniques. This technique made her more independent, more efficient, and far more lethal.
Even more than that, it gave her a sense of autonomy—of control over the very curse and gift that shaped her fate.
"I no longer thirst," she whispered once during a quiet moment. "Now, I choose when to drink."
Beside her, Yue emerged from her meditative trance with a tranquil grace. Her presence was less overwhelming, yet no less powerful. She stood barefoot, her hair gently flowing around her as if caressed by invisible breezes. The ground beneath her feet responded to her touch, and leaves swirled in circles of reverence as she passed.
Yue had found balance.
Over the course of their cultivation, she had reached an understanding that eluded many spirit-attuned beings: trees were only one part of nature.
She was not a servant of the forest—she was an expression of nature's will itself.
Wind, earth, rain, even stillness—all answered her call now. She had fused the elemental understanding of a spirit with the adaptability of a mortal cultivator, allowing her to wield nature not as a rigid structure but a living force.
Yue's aura had become serene yet commanding, like the eye of a storm or the steady rise of dawn. She no longer forced her will on nature; nature responded to her like a long-lost daughter returned home.
In battle, her style had changed. Where once she relied only on ranged elemental spells, now she moved like a dancer amid chaos—roots would rise to deflect blades, wind would shield her from arrows, and shards of hardened stone would strike with precision. It was as though she fought with the battlefield, not on it.
Yue had also grown spiritually.
In her quiet voice and composed expression, there was wisdom beyond her years. She would speak rarely, but when she did, even Alexia and Aamon would pause to listen.
They had emerged changed.
And the world would soon bear witness.