bullyxtreme V.4.291.
V.4.291.
The throne room stretches vast and open, without walls to confine it, as towering pillars rise like ancient sentinels to uphold the immense roof above, their shadows long and silent under the night sky.Beyond the edge, there is nothing to obstruct the view, and the entirety of Dragon City spreads out beneath them, its lights flickering like distant stars across the land.
Moonlight pours in freely, unobstructed by stone or barrier, blending with the dim glow of the chandeliers that hang between the pillars, their soft light not overpowering but instead yielding to the silver radiance of the night.
Together, they create an atmosphere where the moonlight dominates, casting everything in a pale, tranquil glow that sharpens outlines while deepening shadows.
Merin sits upon his throne at the centre of this open expanse, his figure still and composed, elevated above all, as if he belongs not to the city below, but to something beyond it.
His gaze lowers.
It rests on Ziqi.
Ziqi remains kneeling.
Head bowed.
Unmoving.
Like a blade returned to its sheath.
“Reveal your field,” Merin says, his voice calm, yet carrying an unquestionable authority that fills the entire space.
Ziqi lifts his head.
His eyes meet Merin’s.
“At your command, my lord,” he replies.
In the next instant,
The world shifts.
Merin finds himself standing within a field.
Silver.
Cold.
Refined.
Yet within that silver expanse, traces of other forces weave faintly through it,
The Law of Fire.
The Law of Metal.
The Law of the Sword.
The Law of Virtual.
They do not dominate.
They linger.
Interwoven.
Incomplete.
Merin observes silently.
His perception moves through the field, touching its structure, sensing its foundation, understanding its formation in an instant.
Fragile.
Too fragile.
He feels it clearly,
With a single thought, with the lightest touch, he could shatter it entirely.
Not because Ziqi is weak,
But because his understanding is not yet complete.
Level Four.
That is the threshold.
Only when one’s comprehension of a Law reaches Level Four can a true field be formed,
A Law Field.
Stable.
Absolute.
Unshakable.
What Ziqi has formed,
Is not that.
It is a Spiritual Field.
A field born from the connection of essence, spirit, and energy, radiating outward through the power of the soul itself.
Every cultivator who reaches the Soul Awakening Stage forms such a field.
It is the beginning.
Not the peak.
Merin withdraws his perception.
The silver field fades.
The throne room returns.
“Take back your field,” he says calmly.
The silver domain fades, dissolving like mist under sunlight, and the throne room returns to its quiet stillness as Ziqi remains kneeling, his presence once again restrained within his own body.
Merin closes his eyes.
Silence deepens.
His thoughts move swiftly.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Ziqi’s Laws unfold within his perception.
The Law of Fire.
The Law of Metal.
The Law of the Sword.
All three have reached Level One.
Barely.
Foundations formed, yet shallow, like roots that have only begun to touch the soil.
The Law of Virtual,
Even weaker.
It has not reached Level One.
Only a trace.
A faint imprint.
“Perhaps because of the Virtual Sword Technique he cultivates,” Merin considers, his thoughts precise and without distraction.
He does not rush.
He weighs.
He examines.
Ziqi’s situation is not much different from Biyun’s.
Though he has touched Laws, he has not formed a true field.
No prototype of Dao exists within him yet.
Without that,
His path remains undefined.
Unanchored.
In that sense, Ziqi and Biyun stand at a similar threshold.
Merin continues to think.
“The chance of Ziqi reaching Sainthood is low,” he concludes plainly, without emotion or bias.
“His talent is not enough.”
But the thought does not end there.
“Yet… who can truly predict the future?”
His mind shifts.
Ziqi’s position is different.
He is not merely a cultivator.
He is tied to Merin.
Bound by fate.
His closest subordinate.
In the years to come, the resources, opportunities, and encounters Ziqi will gain will far surpass those of ordinary cultivators.
There is a possibility,
However small,
That his destiny may change.
But that possibility depends on one thing.
Freedom.
If Merin intervenes too deeply,
If he defines Ziqi’s path too early,
Then that fragile possibility may vanish entirely.
“If I create a Dragon Transformation technique for him now,” Merin thinks, “his path will narrow.”
“And his chance to reach Sainthood will become even smaller.”
The conclusion forms naturally.
Clear.
Unshaken.
“For me… it is better if Ziqi has a chance to reach Sainthood.”
His thoughts settle.
Decision made.
He opens his eyes.
They fall upon Ziqi.
Calm.
Resolved.
“Just as I guided Biyun,” he thinks, “I will guide him.”
“Not bind him.”
He opens his eyes and speaks.
“Ziqi, open your field again.”
Ziqi does not hesitate.
“At your command, my lord.”
The silver field unfolds once more.
Merin steps into it.
The space shifts.
He stands within the same fragile expanse, its structure wavering faintly under his presence, threads of Law drifting like incomplete constellations across a dim sky.
He does not disturb it.
He observes.
Carefully.
Thoroughly.
Within the field, the traces of Laws reveal themselves again,
Fire.
Metal.
Sword.
And the faint, almost intangible trace of Virtual.
Merin’s thoughts settle quickly.
He will not create a Dragon Transformation technique.
Not now.
Instead,
He will create methods.
Paths.
Guidance.
Three techniques.
Each one is designed to deepen Ziqi’s understanding of the Law.
The Law of Fire.
The Law of Metal.
The Law of the Sword.
As for the Law of Virtual,
He discards it immediately.
Ziqi’s comprehension is too shallow.
Not even at Level One.
To force understanding now would not bring progress.
Only confusion.
Only wasted time.
“When his cultivation rises,” Merin thinks, “he may return to it.”
“But not now.”
His decision is clear.
He moves deeper into observation.
He must understand Ziqi’s Laws before shaping anything for him.
Because Laws are not identical.
Especially,
Natural Laws.
The Law of Fire is not something created by man.
It exists.
On its own.
Endless.
Vast.
Every cultivator who touches it walks a different path within it.
Even if two cultivators both fully comprehend the Law of Fire,
Their understanding will never be the same.
Because within a single Law,
There are countless principles.
Major.
Minor.
Interwoven.
Some stand at the forefront.
Others remain hidden beneath layers of perception.
All principles are Laws.
But not all Laws are principles.
The Law of Fire alone contains many,
Heat.
Burning.
Light.
Brightness.
Devouring.
Destruction.
And more.
Each one is a path.
Each one has a direction.
Merin’s perception sharpens.
He isolates Ziqi’s understanding.
Follows its threads.
Identifies its core.
Heat.
And,
Burning.
These are the principles Ziqi has grasped.
Not broad.
Not complex.
But direct.
Pure.
A foundation that can be built upon.
Merin does not move.
But within his mind,
A structure begins to form within Merin’s mind, precise and layered, each fragment of understanding aligning itself into something that can be passed on without distorting its essence.
He begins with Fire.
Not the vast and chaotic entirety of the Law of Fire, but the part Ziqi has already touched,
Heat.
Burning.
He refines it.
Condenses it.
Shapes it into a sword technique.
Every movement carries rising temperature.
Every strike accumulates intensity.
Until a single slash is no longer just a cut, but an eruption, heat compressing, burning, expanding, turning the blade into a source of destruction that spreads beyond its edge.
Then he moves to the second.
Metal.
Ziqi’s understanding is clear.
Sharpness.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
Merin does not force additional principles into it.
He deepens what is already there.
Sharpness that does not dull.
Precision that does not waver.
A blade that does not merely cut flesh,
But divides space, divides intent, divides resistance itself.
A sword technique forms.
Simple.
Absolute.
Unforgiving.
Then,
The third.
This is where the difficulty lies.
Fire.
Metal.
Sword.
Three Laws.
Separate.
Distinct.
To combine them,
A bridge is needed.
A principle that binds them together.
Merin pauses.
Thinks.
Time passes in silence.
Within his mind, countless possibilities rise and fall, each one tested, each one rejected.
Then,
The answer appears.
Killing.
The essence of the sword is killing.
Fire can kill.
Metal can kill.
Even without a wielder, both carry the potential for destruction.
So long as existence can be ended,
The principle exists.
He grasps it.
Refines it.
Forms it.
The third sword technique emerges.
A technique where Fire, Metal, and Sword no longer act separately, but merge under a single intent,
To kill.
Each of the three techniques stands complete.
Each one is capable of forming its own field.
Merin withdraws.
The silver field fades again.
The throne room returns.
“Take back your field,” Merin says.
Ziqi obeys instantly.
Merin raises his hand.
Spiritual energy gathers.
Three books form.
Not gold this time,
But sharp.
Refined.
Like blades given shape.
He hands them to Ziqi.
Then explains.
Not briefly.
Not vaguely.
But with the same clarity he gave Biyun.
How to cultivate.
What to seek.
What not to force.
That these techniques are not the end,
But the beginning.
Ziqi listens.
Every word.
Without interruption.
When Merin finishes, Ziqi bows deeply, receiving the three sword techniques as if receiving something far greater than power.
Then,
He leaves.
Silence settles once more.
Merin remains seated.
Still.
Thinking.
“There will be many like him,” he considers.
Talented enough to step forward.
Yet not enough to reach him.
They cannot all come to him.
And he cannot guide them one by one.
Nor can he turn everyone into a Dragon.
That is not the answer.
What they need,
Is a way to comprehend the law.
An anchor.
A medium.
Something that allows them to touch the Dao more easily.
The Dragon Totem exists.
It helps.
But it is not suitable.
It contains too many Laws.
Too vast.
Too mixed.
Like heaven and earth themselves.
And just as cultivators struggle to comprehend a single Law from the world,
They struggle the same with the Dragon Totem.
Because of its form,
Is too complete.
Too whole.
Too complex.
To extract one truth from it,
Is too difficult.
Merin’s gaze lowers slightly.
Thought deepens.
A new idea begins to take shape.