Three years passed silently beneatn the Tibetan mountains.
Three years since Krishak entered the Worldheart Chamber.
Three years since the world above began changing without him.
And during those years-
He never stopped cultivating.
The underground chamber had transformed completely compared to before.
The endless sea of corruption that once flooded the ruins had nearly disappeared now. Ancient formations across the walls glowed steadily without instability while even the dimensional breach below had become significantly calmer.
The suffocating pressure that once consumed the chamber constantly was gone.
Only faint traces remained.
At the center of the chamber-
Krishak sat motionless within countless overlapping formations.
Silver-gray energy flowed around him calmly while tiny fragments of black corruption circled nearby like fading embers.
Compared to three years ago-
He looked completely different.
His body had become leaner and more refined beneath endless tempering.
Silver-gray patterns naturally spread across portions of his skin like ancient marks carved into existence itself.
Even while sitting still-
The surrounding space distorted faintly around him from the density of his physical body alone.
Three years.
Eighteen hours every day spent cultivating.
Refining corruption.
Tempering his body.
Strengthening his mind.
Again and again without rest.
The remaining hours—
He either slept briefly to recover from unbearable spiritual strain
Or wrote.
Hundreds of handwritten records now filled one side of the chamber.
Cultivation theories.
Formation concepts.
Civilization structures.
Public cultivation systems.
Resource management plans.
Academy designs.
Future dangers.
Possible dimensional scenarios.
Everything he remembered from his previous life that could help humanity survive.
The old man had once asked him why he spent so much time writing despite already exhausting himself through cultivation.
Krishak's answer remained simple.
"If I die one day.…."
He continued writing calmly.
"...someone else should still know what to do."
Three years of refinement had changed him fundamentally.
Not only spiritually.
Completely.
His cultivation had already reached the Peak King Realm months earlier.
And unlike ordinary cultivators-
His foundation no longer possessed weaknesses.
Every breakthrough during these years had been compressed, refined, and stabilized repeatedly through the Primordial Oriain Arts.
His spiritual energy had become extraordinarily dense.
Pure.
Stable beyond normal standards.
At the same time-
The Universe Origin Body Arts had reached the peak of the third realm.
Void Forged Body.
His body no longer merely resisted corruption and spatial pressure.
It adapted to them naturally.
Tiny dimensional distortions around the breach no longer injured him at all. Even dense corruption could now circulate through portions of his body briefly without causing immediate damage.
His bones carried traces of refined void essence.
His organs had become frighteningly resilient.
And his mind
His mind had changed the most.
Three years of enduring dimensional corruption had forged terrifying mental resistance within him.
Ancient whispers hidden inside the corruption no longer affected his consciousness easily.
Madness
Fear.
Hatred.
Those things had lost much of their influence over him now.
But despite everything—
The cost remained visible.
His body constantly carried exhaustion beneath the surface.
Not ordinary fatigue.
Deep spiritual weariness accumulated through years of endless refinement.
Even now, faint scars remained within portions of his meridians from repeated dimensional erosion.
Yet compared to the beginning-
The difference was heaven and earth.
Nearby, the old man observed quietly while watching the final remnants of corruption drifting around the chamber.
Only three hundred strands remained
now.
Three hundred tiny fragments floating near the dimensional breach.
That was all.
Compared to the endless ocean of corruption from before-
It was almost unbelievable.
The old man still struggled understanding how Krishak accomplished it.
Even after three years—
The silver-gray energy he cultivated remained completely beyond the old man's comprehension.
The only thing he knew for certain was this:
It was terrifying.
Krishak slowly opened his eyes.
The chamber trembled faintly the moment he did.
Not from spiritual pressure.
From his body unconsciously affecting the surrounding space.
Three hundred strands.
He could sense them clearly.
Dense.
Pure.
Far more concentrated than ordinary corruption.
The final remnants nearest the dimensional breach itself.
Enough.
Enough for his cultivation to finally step beyond King Realm.
Enough to enter Saint Realm completely.
And perhaps-
Reach the middle stages as well.
But Krishak did not immediately absorb them.
Instead, he looked quietly toward the countless notes stacked nearby.
Three years had passed aboveground too.
The world outside had changed greatly by now.
His disciples would have grown.
The academy would have evolved.
Human civilization itself was likely transforming faster than most people realized.
The old man finally spoke quietly.
"You could break through now.
Krishak nodded slightly.
"Yes."
Yet his expression remained thoughtful.
Because Saint Realm was different.
Kings ruled nations.
Saints shaped civilizations.
Once he stepped into that realm
His existence itself would begin separating from ordinary cultivators completely.
And with the Primordial Origin Arts involved
Even Krishak himself could not predict exactly what would happen.
The old man looked toward him carefully.
"You're hesitating.
Krishak remained silent briefly.
Then answered honestly.
"...No."
Silver-gray light flickered softly within his eyes.
"I'm preparing."
Far above the mountains-
The world waited unknowingly.
And deep beneath Earth-
A cultivator who had spent three years carrying humanity's corruption alone finally prepared to ascend beyond the realm of Kings.