The following day, at eight o'clock in the morning, in an apartment, Mao Seong-hun slowly opened his blue eyes.
He sat up immediately, unaware that he was no longer in the dilapidated shack where he had been living.
Mao Seong-hun clutched his head, struck by a sudden, intense headache, and let out a groan of pain.
"Ah, my head! Why does it hurt so much?"
His voice was thick with pain and the throbbing ache in his skull.
A strange feeling that something was wrong washed over him. He scanned his surroundings, only to realize he was in a room that bore no resemblance to the one he had slept in before.
The room was tidy and elegant, possessing a distinct, refined Chinese aesthetic.
His face filled with confusion and bewilderment as he looked around, his expression growing anxious.
"Sister... Mao Ji-su?"
His voice was laced with fear and concern for his younger sister. Suddenly, he found her right beside him, clinging to him tightly—as if he were her last shred of hope—her face still etched with shock.
Mao Seong-hun let out a sigh of relief as he looked at his sister, who was stuck to him like a leech. Yet, he remained entirely on guard; the last thing he remembered was encountering the Venerable of Great Chaos, Feng Li-wu—also known as the Master of Calamities.
Before Mao Seong-hun could utter a word, the door to the room began to open slowly, emitting a faint, creaking sound. Mao Seong-hun's expression twisted into one of sheer terror as he stared toward the door. He was certain—absolutely certain—that the person on the other side was Feng Li-wu.
Seong-hun swallowed hard; Feng Li-wu's overwhelming presence weighed heavily upon him, even from a distance.
He pulled his sleeping sister, Mao Ji-su, toward him, shielding her within his embrace.
As Feng Li-wu stepped into the room, Mao Seong-hun's face darkened. It felt as though he were coming face-to-face with death itself—though the man who entered carried a food tray, not a scythe for reaping souls.
Terror consumed his heart and spirit, leaving him unable to utter a word. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of bewilderment at the sight of the tray laden with appetizing food; still, he dared not speak.
Feng Li-wu placed the food on a nearby table, then turned his gaze toward Mao Seong-hun—a look that sent a violent tremor through the boy's body.
"You—Mao Seong-hun—wake your sister and go bathe. The very sight of you two disgusts me."
Feng Li-wu's tone was as cold as ever. He turned and headed toward the exit.
Stopping at the doorway, he glanced back at Mao Seong-hun.
"Once you've bathed and eaten, come outside. I have something to discuss with you—and you know full well what will happen if you don't."
With that, he walked out, not waiting for a response—nor caring whether Seong-hun agreed or not. His tone left no room for refusal.
It was a voice filled with command and authority, directed at both Seong-hun and Ji-su.
Mao Seong-hun tried to calm himself by taking deep, steady breaths.
After a few minutes, he managed to regain his composure.
"For now, I have no choice but to listen to him. That man is a monster in every sense of the word—but what exactly does he want from us?"
Mao Seong-hun's voice remained calm as he attempted to gather his scattered thoughts.
An hour and a half later, Mao Seong-hun and Mao Ji-su sat before a small table—the same one upon which Feng Li-wu had previously placed food.
Ji-su glanced back and forth between the table laden with food and her brother, Seong-hun, looking both nervous and embarrassed.
Seong-hun sighed deeply, watching his sister; hunger was gnawing at her, as she hadn't eaten anything for days.
"Go ahead and eat—what are you waiting for? Oh, I see! Do you want me to feed you?"
"It seems Mao Ji-su is still just a little child! Hahahaha!"
There was a hint of playful mockery in Mao Seong-hun's tone—a deliberate attempt to ease his sister's embarrassment so she would eat. After all, the person who had provided this meal was none other than the individual who topped the global "blacklist" of the world's most wanted people.
Yet, Feng Li-wu moved freely across the five continents—traversing the realms of masters and other worlds alike—transcending the boundaries between mortals and immortals. Power is everything in this harsh world. If you possess power—even if every living creature in existence loathes you—no one will dare to harm you, for they know full well that you are capable of crushing them.
In this world, you are either at the summit, where no one dares to approach you, or you are mere trash—not even worth the effort it would take to crush you. There is no middle ground; that space is simply the terrain trampled upon by the rising elite as they carve their own paths to glory.
Mao Ji-soo began to eat with a refined, noble grace. Although she had spent nine years far removed from the life of the nobility, those habits remained deeply ingrained, manifesting in her every gesture, movement, and turn of phrase.
The same was true for Mao Seong-hun; having lived as a nobleman for thirteen years, those customs had become an inseparable part of his very being.
A faint smile touched Mao Seong-hun's lips as he watched his younger sister eat, before he began to partake in his own meal.
Some time later, Mao Seong-hun and Mao Ji-soo stepped out of the room, gripped by profound fear and trepidation—both knew Feng Li-wu all too well.
They understood that a single misplaced word could be enough to leave them as nothing more than scattered entrails—a realization reinforced by what they had seen at their own hut, and the reports they had received, in all their brutal detail, regarding the incident at the "Easy Dream" tavern.
"Mao Ji-soo, do not speak—ever. Is that understood?"
Mao Seong-hun's tone was grave and stern, leaving no room for jest. Mao Ji-soo nodded in agreement.
A look of relief crossed Mao Seong-hun's face, and the two continued on their way toward where Fung Li-wu was located.
Upon reaching the guest room, Seong-hun glanced inside and found Fung Li-wu waiting for them.
His features were as cold as frost, and his eyes—an intense, abyssal black—seemed like a void that consumed every emotion and dissolved everything it touched, whether it existed or not.
This was one of his abilities: the capacity to perceive all possibilities—both those that exist and those that do not—and to behold existence and non-existence with absolute ease.
Yet, Feng Li Wu could not even harness 1% of this power; it remained constrained within the fantasy realm they currently inhabited.
This differed from Yuta's "Ruler's Eye," which could observe and retain everything within the entire existential trajectory.
Nevertheless, at their full potential—when he could wield them completely—Feng Li Wu's eyes were capable of peering into a realm as vast as the entire Sacred Tree of Existence.
"You may enter."
Mao Seong-hun and Mao Ji-su stepped into the guest chamber, appearing visibly anxious and tense.
"Could you hurry up? I don't have all day to wait for you two to crawl along like tortoises!"
Feng Li Wu's tone was as sharp as a sword's edge, heavy with command and authority directed toward the young man and woman.
Fear flickered across Ji-su's face upon hearing his pointed reprimand.
His voice exerted an invisible pressure upon her—as if mountains were crushing down—leaving her unable to move or even remain standing. Having only reached the intermediate stage of the second phase of Qi absorption, she was far too weak to withstand the mere presence of Feng Li Wu. The same applied to Seong-hun, yet he managed to compose himself. Summoning all his remaining strength, he moved as quickly as he could, supporting Ji-su—who had become completely immobilized, paralyzed by the overwhelming presence of Feng Li-wu and the icy, detached tone of his voice.
Her terror, compounded by the haunting memories of what had transpired inside the hut, only made her condition worse.
After a few steps, Seong-hun and Ji-su took their designated seats. They sat close together; Ji-su had insisted on remaining right by her brother's side, terrified of Feng Li-wu.
Feng Li-wu, however, paid no mind to where they chose to sit.
A flicker of embarrassment crossed Seong-hun's face—momentarily eclipsing his own fear—as Ji-su clung tightly to his waist. She stared at Feng Li-wu with such dread and awe that she hadn't uttered a single word since entering the room.
Meanwhile, Feng Li-wu's expression remained cold and indifferent. Yet, deep down, he was recalling every memory he held of his children from the time he was Zhao Li.
He let out a sigh, as frigid as frost, before turning his attention to Seong-hun and Ji-su, who sat before him.
"Seong-hun, Ji-su—listen carefully. You will be my gateway to the Mao Sect. Not that I strictly need you; I could enter and leave the sect without the slightest difficulty."
"But I do need you, for you know where the treasures are kept." "There is something that belongs to me—something I wish to retrieve—but it requires a specific catalyst to activate. You and the Mao clan shall provide it. Do you understand?"
Feng Li Wu's tone was as cold as ever, his gaze fixed upon Seong-hun with utter indifference.
Silence descended for several minutes, until Seong-hun finally summoned the courage to speak.
"And why, pray tell, would we ever agree to that? We have nothing left to lose; we face death whether at your hands, the hands of the Mao sect, or the hands of the mercenaries."
Though his voice remained outwardly calm, Feng Li Wu could sense the trembling fear beneath the surface.
A smile—amused in appearance, yet devoid of any genuine mirth—touched Feng Li Wu's lips as he looked toward Seong-hun and his sister, Ji-soo.
"Fair point. Why, indeed, should you trust me?"
Feng Li Wu's tone was cold, laced with a hint of mockery.
He then shifted his gaze toward Ji-soo, prompting her to duck behind her brother, Seong-hun. Only a few strands of her silver-gold hair remained visible as she cowered in terror.
"Hahahaha! Your sister certainly has a vivid imagination—though her fear is well-founded. I could use her to coerce you, or perhaps kill you and turn her into a tool to infiltrate the sect—and a means to satisfy my own desires. She is, after all, quite alluring."
Feng Li Wu's voice remained cold, carrying a faint, mocking edge. Sweat began to bead on Seong-hun's face as he cast a sidelong glance at Ji-soo, whose tears were now falling silently and profusely. She dared not sob in front of Feng Li-wu after hearing his words.
She clutched her brother Seong-hun's shirt so tightly that visible creases formed in the fabric.
Seong-hun let out a deep sigh, his heart heavy with sorrow, grief, regret, and a profound sense of despair over his own plight.
In the world he inhabited, the weak suffered at the hands of the strong—to the point where their lives were rendered utterly worthless. Millions, even billions, of beings across these fantastical realms perished every single second, merely to provide pleasure or comfort to others.
In such a world, there was no place for the weak; the strong preyed upon them just as ferocious beasts hunt down defenseless herbivores. It was a realm where the big fish devoured the small, and where colossal nations consumed smaller ones under the guise of "sanctions."
Regardless of the world, the law remained the same: the strong rule, and the weak must follow.
"Very well—can you guarantee the safety of my sister, Mao Ji-soo? That is my only request; I will do whatever you ask of me."
Seong-hun's voice was thick with desperation and sadness, yet a flicker of hope still lingered in his eyes.
Feng Li-wu remained silent for several minutes before speaking in his usual, composed tone.
"As far as the Mao Clan is concerned, they consider both of you to have perished inside the hut." They assumed you both had met your end in the massacre that took place there—leaving behind nothing but blood, now smeared like paint across the walls of that dilapidated shack.
So, there's no need to worry; I've had all the arrest warrants rescinded—I made sure of it myself. That said, I can't guarantee that some of those warrants haven't still found their way into the hands of mercenaries. And for that reason..."
"Yes, your sister will remain under my protection. Not out of pity, but because there is something that requires you both to stay alive. Mind you, that doesn't mean I'll be merciful if you try anything foolish. Is that clear? Now, get lost! The discussion is over—I don't want to hear another word."
His tone was calm, laced with utter indifference—as if the events inside the shack were of no concern to him, and as if the actions of the Mao Sect were nothing more than child's play.
Yet, his remark—that something wanted them to remain alive Keeping them alive was a way to ensure they remained under his control, while simultaneously facilitating a smoother ongoing relationship between them.
In this world, there are no eternal enemies or eternal friends. Feng Liwu had once been an enemy to the Mao clan in general—and specifically to Mao Seong-hun and Mao Ji-su—but now, in one way or another, they had become allies.
Nevertheless, Feng Liwu was not the type to risk his life over something trivial, such as killing two children who had not even reached the age of one hundred yet.
He turned his attention back to them, finding the siblings still standing where they had been.
"Master..."
"Get out of my sight—now! I have no interest in hearing a word from you. Leave immediately, if you value your lives!"
Feng Liwu's tone was cold, carrying a hint of murderous intent.
Mao Seong-hun and Mao Ji-su decided to move without a word. Yet, Ji-su sensed something peculiar; despite his harsh tone—which suggested he meant them harm—Feng Liwu held no actual malice toward them.
Feng Liwu lingered, gazing toward the guest room for a few seconds, before retreating into his own spiritual realm to begin his internal cultivation.
In the other room, Seong-hun and Ji-su collapsed onto the bed.
Exhaustion was etched across their bodies; they were far more drained mentally and psychologically than they were physically. Seong-hun's gaze fell upon an envelope, a ring, and a sheet of paper, all resting beside a small vase near the bed.
He moved toward them, his expression filled with bewilderment.
"What is this?..."
His tone carried a mix of surprise and confusion as he turned the envelope over in his hands. He then decided to open it and read the contents.
[You two useless fools—we are heading to the Mao Sect in six months.
You had best make use of the cultivation resources inside the ring, as well as the temporal dimension located in the room next to the bathroom.
For the next six months, you are not to leave; you will remain in a state of cultivation for the entire duration.
Should you remain at your current, pathetic levels—Mao Seong-hun, at the third stage, third level of the late-stage Solid Foundation, and Mao Ji-soo, at the second stage, mid-level of Qi Absorption—the consequences will be dire.
I am currently occupied with secluded cultivation, so I suggest you refrain from doing anything foolish.]
Seong-hun let out a deep sigh, staring at the letter for several moments. He then shifted his gaze to the ring, before looking over at Ji-soo, who was fast asleep.
Tears remained, frozen in her eyes—eyes that were red and swollen from intense weeping.
A faint smile appeared on his face—a smile heavy with profound sorrow, yet fueled by a burning desire to grow, to advance, and to eventually stand among the strong.
His thirst for vengeance against the Mao Sect raged within his heart like an all-consuming fire. Had it not been for the coup staged by his uncle, Mao Qi-chan, his sister would be living a life of luxury instead of this wretched, pitiable existence.
Deep within his soul, Seong-hun cursed his own weakness.
He felt a surge of power permeating his spirit like a blazing fire, and he sensed that its source was his sister, Ji-su, who lay fast asleep beside him.
Two hours later, Mao Ji-su awoke to find her brother waiting for her.
"What is it, brother? Why do you look so serious? Did something happen while I was asleep?"
Ji-su's voice was filled with bewilderment and surprise as she gazed at her brother, Seong-hun, whose expression was unusually grave.
Seong-hun let out a deep sigh before speaking.
"You will find out soon enough."
His tone was calm, yet brimming with resolve and determination.
He walked toward a simple, dark-blue door located near the bathroom.
Ji-su watched her brother, her face still etched with confusion and wonder.
Seong-hun, however, paid no heed to her gaze, focusing his attention entirely on the door.
The moment the ring on his hand touched the doorknob, a cold, golden light erupted from the runic inscriptions, which suddenly sprang to life.
These runes manipulated the very fabric of space and time—or rather, they harnessed the Dao of Space and Time—enabling the creation of a pocket dimension governed by its own unique laws of space and time. Seong-hun turned his gaze toward Ji-soo; his expression was so serious that she immediately grasped the gravity of the situation.
"Ji-soo, we have six months. We must become stronger, no matter the cost—do you understand? Inside this room, a single day of training is equivalent to an entire year. With roughly 182 days at our disposal, that amounts to 182 years of training."
"But don't worry—we won't actually lose a minute of our lives. Time flows differently here—it slows down rather than speeds up—so nothing like that will happen. That said, we will be left paralyzed for three days once we emerge, due to the spacetime distortion we'll experience upon exiting."
Seong-hun's tone held a hint of reassurance. Yet, in this world, nothing comes for free, and nothing is without collateral damage; everything carries a price that must be paid.
Seong-hun stepped into the room with a steady, determined stride.
Ji-soo gazed toward the gateway, her expression filled with anxiety.
She clenched her hands so tightly that blood began to seep from her palms. Staring at the door, she whispered:
"It's time to grow stronger. I won't let you face these hardships alone, brother. I will stand by you and support you until my very last breath."
Her voice was laced with firm resolve. With a steady step, she headed toward the training room—fully committed to her goal: to attain the strength needed to support her brother, Mao Seong-hun, throughout their long journey ahead. As soon as she arrived, the door closed on its own, then vanished as if it had never existed at all.
On the other side, the door had likewise disappeared, leaving Ji-soo feeling bewildered. She turned her gaze toward Seong-hun, who had already begun his cultivation, his eyes firmly shut.
"Don't worry; it's just a precautionary measure taken by Feng Li-wu to ensure we don't escape. You'd be better off using every single second to grow stronger."
Seong-hun's tone was calm and, uncharacteristically, filled with confidence.
Ji-soo let out a sigh of relief, then began her own cultivation, channeling energy through her Dantian—a process that would continue for the next six months.
Within Feng Li-wu's spiritual realm, a cold smile—devoid of any joy or satisfaction—appeared on his face side, while he muttered in a cold tone:
"Oh, I finally understand why that entity wanted them to stay alive. It seems they will become incredibly powerful once they emerge from that enclosed cultivation chamber; after all, they are the descendants of..."