A large jade temple rises from the heart of a still lake, its tiered structure stretching into the sky, adorned with sweeping roofs and carved pillars.
So floors are open to the elents, gardens blooming between polished stone paths, and in the very centre grows a massive banyan tree, its roots braided into the marble tiles, its canopy casting deep shadows over the temple.
The lake surrounding the temple teems with lotuses, their pink and white petals glistening in the light of dawn.
As the sun crests the horizon, figures begin to erge from the mist by the water’s edge—figures shaped like humans, walking upright with two legs and two arms.
But their appearance betrays sothing far from human—skin replaced by countless fine green scales, tongues slit like blades, eyes gleaming like venom, jagged teeth visible between thin lips, and fingers ending in hardened black nails.
They are mbers of the Poison Snake Clan—a middle-tier race of the Demon lineage.
This floating land is one of the many dinsions they’ve conquered.
Unlike a full-fledged world, dinsions drift through the void—chunks of habitable land lacking a world core, unshielded by the crystal barriers that protect true worlds.
Dinsions can be freely entered, fought for, and claid.
The Poison Snake Clan controls several, but this is their first conquest—the dinsion they tad, shaped, and made suitable for their kind.
And now, through slow and careful corruption, it nears the threshold of becoming a lower-tier world—one bound to the Demon race forever.
There are two ways to accomplish this transformation.
The first is by force—a God Realm powerhouse descending upon the dinsion and using their divine power to reshape it into a world.
The second is slower, far more delicate—twenty Arch Duke-level Demons remain anchored in the dinsion, rging their power over ti to give birth to a world source.
This second thod demands patience, and during the process, the twenty Arch Dukes cannot leave the dinsion.
But here, within this poisoned land, there are twenty-five Arch Duke realm Poison Snake Demons already stationed.
At any mont, the birth of a world source may begin.
Though a source has not yet ford, the dinsion has already begun producing rare and powerful treasures.
Foremost among them are the Snake Pearls, ford deep within the thousand poisonous lakes scattered across the land.
Seven centuries ago, this very lake gave birth to such a pearl, and from that mont on, its waters were transford—from a body of death into one of restoration.
Now, the lake's water heals minor injuries and calms corrupted energy.
Yet the Snake Pearl it birthed remains its true treasure—a gem capable of purifying even the deadliest poisons known to man, beast, or demon.
That pearl lies protected within the jade temple, sealed within its sacred halls.
During the day, citizens of the Poison Snake Clan arrive by boat or swim across the lake to offer prayers in the temple, an ancient sanctuary dedicated to the Snake Demon God.
The Snake Demon God vanished from the Demon World ten thousand years ago, leaving without a word or trace, and no one knows whether he still lives or has long since perished.
But it was his power that first raised the Snake Demon race to prominence in the Demon World, and so, for ten thousand years, their faith has endured.
The temple remains their beacon, its prayers and offerings like whispers into the void—calling, always calling, for their god to find his way back ho.
As the sun sets, the worshippers return to their hos, leaving the temple to its priests and silence.
By midnight, only a handful of priests remain awake, tasked with patrolling the sacred grounds.
But the patrols are lax, their vigilance dulled by generations of peace and complacency.
The temple sits within a dinsion fully under the clan’s rule, so secure that they cannot even imagine being threatened.
And so, as the night deepens and shadows lengthen, the few remaining priests doze off one by one—slumped against stone walls or beneath the ancient banyan tree—leaving the sacred temple unguarded, vulnerable.
At that mont, a black swirling circle tears open the sky above the lake.
From within steps the High Priest of the Temple of Life and Blood, a figure of grace and danger born from the Origin World.
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"I have around ten minutes to retrieve the pearl," she mutters, her eyes locked on the jade temple below.
Rather than land directly on the temple, she descends toward the surface of the lake, cautious.
She doesn’t know if hidden formations protect the temple, and stepping on the island without care could trigger alarms that might doom her within this enemy dinsion.
Her feet touch the water soundlessly, gliding across the lake without leaving a ripple.
When she reaches the shore, she scans for signs of spiritual formations—but finds nothing.
Still wary, she steps onto the island and moves like a ghost through shadow and silence, unseen, unheard, untouched.
She slips past the slumbering priests and the open-air gardens until she stands in the core chamber of the temple.
Before her, the statue of the Snake Demon God towers above—hands extended upward.
And in the stone god’s upturned palms rests a glowing green pearl, the size of a clenched fist.
She glances around the chamber one last ti, then raises her hand.
The pearl shivers, then slowly lifts into the air and glides into her palm.
She smiles, breath catching at the ease of it. “Too easy,” she whispers.
Without wasting another heartbeat, she turns and begins her escape—faster this ti, steps urgent.
But the mont she steps off the island, the world around her flares with green light.
She freezes, eyes snapping upward.
From the spires of the jade temple, green fire ignites—flares leaping skyward, tearing through the night—and with them, a terrible ripple pulses out across the dinsion.
Then she hears it—shouts echoing from the temple behind her.
“Thief!”
Her face tightens. No more stealth, no more ti.
She shoots into the air, racing toward the black swirling portal high above the lake.
But as she nears it, a suffocating pressure descends from behind—vast, ancient, crushing.
A voice like thunder roars, “Stay.”
She twists in the air just in ti to see a massive light-green palm, shining like carved jade, hurtling toward her.
Eyes wide, she curses and glances at the portal—it’s close, but not close enough.
Without hesitation, she tears the jade necklace from her neck and hurls it behind her.
It flashes midair, forming a glowing crystal wall.
The giant palm slams into it, shattering it in two seconds.
But those two seconds are enough.
She dives forward and bursts through the portal just before the palm reaches her.
The portal, still open, trembles with unstable energy, and she doesn’t dare turn back to close it.
She rises high into the sky of the Origin World and vanishes into the night.
On the other side, the jade palm halts just outside the portal, hovering in the Realm Battlefield, the interdinsional buffer zone that now burns open between dinsion and world.
A breath later, it recedes.
And then the sky rips again.
Armies of the Poison Snake Clan step onto the battlefield—scales gleaming, eyes burning, weapons drawn—marching through the portal toward the world beyond.
------
rin parks the car and steps out in front of Evelyn’s house.
He follows her up to the door, but the mont they step inside, he waves his hand in front of his nose—the air reeks of alcohol.
“I’m leaving,” he says flatly.
Evelyn doesn’t turn. She just nods and walks deeper into the house without a word.
rin stands there a mont, frowning. Sothing’s off.
She hadn’t said much since he picked her up, and even less after he woke up.
He shrugs it off. No use trying to guess what’s going on in a woman’s head.
Turning away, he makes his way toward the staff office, where he’ll find out when and where his next class will be.
Later, he watches his students—most around his own age—struggling to hold horse stance.
So lean too far forward, others sink too low.
Sweat pours down their faces.
They’re all ordinary civilians, most with zero martial arts background.
rin checks the ti.
“That’s enough for today,” he says. Practice daily. I’ll test you all in a week.”
He turns and walks off, the thud of weary limbs relaxing behind him.
Instead of heading straight out of the university, he veers off toward the canteen.
Might as well grab sothing to eat before leaving.
The canteen is buffet-style—neat rows of steaming trays, warm lights glowing overhead. rin grabs a plate, picks what he wants without much thought, and walks to a far corner of the room. He settles into a seat alone, silently eating, eyes occasionally drifting toward the window.
A minute later, three young won approach his table.
He glances up—recognises them instantly. His students from earlier.
One of them, tall and elegant with chestnut hair, asks, “Mr. Taylor, can we sit with you?”
There are plenty of empty tables around. rin notices—but shrugs inwardly.
“Sure,” he says, nodding. “But outside of class, don’t call Mr. Taylor. We’re the sa age. Just call rin… Stella.”
Stella beams, and her two friends slide into the chairs across from him. rin shifts into the empty seat beside him to give Stella room.
They start asking him questions—so about martial arts, others just casual chatter. rin answers calmly, his tone steady, controlled.
At another table, Cassie lifts her head sluggishly and presses two fingers to her temple. The hangover’s still pounding behind her eyes.
She sips her soup slowly, trying to settle her stomach.
Then, mid-sip, she freezes.
Her gaze narrows on a figure in the distance—blurry, but familiar.
She squints harder, then picks up her phone, zooms in with the cara.
The screen shows Adam sitting beside a girl who’s clearly enjoying his company, her smile bright and easy.
Cassie’s mood shifts in a flash.
Her hangover soup forgotten, her jaw clenches.
Then Adam turns his head and ets her eyes from across the canteen.
And smiles.
Cassie scowls, then lowers her phone and elbows Evelyn beside her.
Evelyn blinks. “What?”
Cassie tilts her head sharply, pointing with her chin toward the far corner.
Evelyn follows her line of sight and sees him.
Adam. Clear as day, thanks to her body forging realm vision. He’s sitting with a few girls, one in particular far too close. Just then, Adam nods at her. A simple gesture—but Evelyn notices the girl beside him place her hand on his arm.
Adam pulls back imdiately.
That makes Evelyn frown—more than she should. She knows she has no claim. Their relationship is fake. But watching that girl's hand touch him, sothing tightens in her chest.
She stands up.
She tells herself it’s just to keep up appearances—friends will talk if they see her sitting while her “boyfriend” entertains others. But she knows that’s not the whole truth.
She doesn’t like it.
By the ti she reaches his table, Adam rises as well and speaks first. “Sorry, I have to go—my girlfriend just arrived.”
Stella, still standing beside him, raises a brow and glances at Evelyn. “She’s also a student here.”
Adam nods. “Yes.”
Evelyn steps forward, calm but firm. “Our relationship started before either of us joined the university. I’m Evelyn Manford.” She extends a hand.
Stella stands fully, graceful but a little stiff, and shakes it. “Stella Quinn.”
Adam picks up his empty plate with one hand and gently takes Evelyn’s with the other.
“We’ll be going now,” he says politely. “Nice to et you.”
Then, without looking back, he walks away—one hand full of dishes, the other firmly wrapped around Evelyn’s.
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