bullyxtreme V.4.293.
V.4.293.
Merin withdraws his gaze from the western battlefield, the distant clash fading from his perception as he sits once more upon the throne, his expression calm yet his thoughts moving with quiet intensity.He ponders.
What he sensed lingers.
The power of Ye Weiran,
Within Nox.
That alone is enough.
It means the end is near.
The Star Singer Tower Lord is approaching his final moment.
Because there is only one reason Ye Weiran would allow her power to settle within Nox,
To claim him.
To make him hers.
“The spider… intends to fight for this world,” Merin thinks, his tone neither surprised nor dismissive, but accepting.
It is only natural.
“How could a Saint abandon a world that has no Saint of its own?”
His gaze lowers slightly.
He has never considered the Star Singer Tower Lord,
Nor the founders of the Three Lotus Sects,
As his true opponents.
They are obstacles.
Not rivals.
From the very beginning, he knew.
The moment he met Ye Weiran decades ago,
He understood.
She alone,
Would stand in his way.
Yet he did not act.
Not because he could not,
But because he did not need to.
He believed.
And still believes,
That in the end, he will be the one who stands last.
Moreover,
What he met back then was not her true self.
Only a clone.
Killing it would have achieved nothing.
And through her,
He learned.
About this world.
About humanity.
About the unseen threads that bind everything together.
Merin rises from the throne.
His steps are slow.
Measured.
He descends the stairs, crosses the vast throne room, and walks out into the open.
From there,
The entire Dragon City lies beneath him.
Alive.
Breathing.
He watches.
Lights flicker across the city.
Then,
One by one,
They begin to go out.
Homes dim.
Streets quiet.
People return to rest.
Yet the city does not fully sleep.
Some districts remain awake.
Vibrant.
Restless.
A city that no longer truly rests.
But ordinary people,
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Still need sleep.
Even if cultivators do not.
Merin waits.
Time passes.
Minutes stretch.
Then,
He feels it.
People are falling asleep.
Not one.
Not ten.
But thousands.
Tens of thousands.
Their consciousness loosens.
Their minds open.
Yet sleep does not guarantee dreams.
So he acts.
A mist spreads.
Invisible.
Silent.
Dream mist.
It drifts across the city, seeping into homes, passing through walls, settling upon those who have fallen asleep,
Ordinary people.
Lower cultivators.
It does not touch the awake.
It does not disturb the strong.
Only those who dream,
Or are about to.
Merin closes his eyes.
And stands still.
As the first threads of the Virtual World begin to take shape, something deeper stirs beyond the visible world, within the layer where all consciousness quietly exists and drifts unseen.
From every sleeping mind across Dragon City, strands of dream emerge.
Soft.
Silver.
Like mist.
They rise from countless bodies and gather, drawn by an invisible call, flowing across the unseen dimension where thoughts, memories, and fleeting illusions reside.
They enter Merin.
Not his body,
But his spirit space.
There, his spirit space reveals itself not as a mere internal domain, but as a vast and complete world, structured and stabilised over years of cultivation, its boundaries sealed by a crystal barrier that separates it from the chaos beyond, like the walls of a plane.
The silver dream mist pours in.
More.
And more.
Filling the sky.
Covering the land.
Merging into his world.
Merin does not hesitate.
He breaks it.
The world inside him fractures.
Mountains collapse.
Rivers vanish.
The land disintegrates.
Everything,
Except for the two suns that hang high in the sky,
Remains untouched.
Everything else is destroyed.
Outside,
A thin line of blood slips from the corner of Merin’s lips.
His aura trembles.
Unstable.
Violent.
This is the cost.
He has not destroyed the entire spirit space,
Only its interior.
But even that,
Is enough to shake his foundation.
Every inch of that world was formed from his spirit power.
Now,
All of it returns.
Breaking down.
Returning to its most basic state.
Chaotic.
Formless.
Primordial.
The silver dream mist enters this chaos.
It does not disperse.
It blends.
Merges.
Becomes part of it.
Merin refines.
His will moves through the chaos, guiding, separating, transforming, and extracting something deeper from the mixture of dream and raw spirit.
From that,
Two forces emerge.
Yin.
And Yang.
They appear as currents.
Opposite.
Interdependent.
They circle the chaotic mass.
Slowly.
Endlessly.
As they move, the chaotic energy begins to shrink.
Compressed.
Refined.
Purified.
While Yin and Yang expand.
Grow.
Strengthen.
The balance shifts.
Gradually,
The chaos disappears.
Everything transforms.
Becomes Yin.
Becomes Yang.
A perfect duality.
A foundation.
Merin stops.
Not because the process is complete,
But because it must.
Outside,
Dawn breaks.
The sun rises.
And as it does,
People begin to wake.
The stream of dream energy weakens.
Then slows.
Then ceases.
He cannot force it further.
The spirit of mortals is limited.
To drain it excessively would damage them.
That is not his intention.
Merin opens his eyes.
The process halts.
He withdraws.
His consciousness returns fully.
He sits once more upon the throne.
Calm.
Silent.
As if nothing had happened.
Within,
He begins to repair.
The crystal barrier of his spirit space reforms, sealing the newly created foundation, stabilising what remains after destruction.
He has made his choice.
The Virtual World,
Will exist within him.
There is no better place.
If he were to build it externally, he would require a spirit-type treasure of the highest quality,
No less than a Saint-grade treasure.
And in this world,
Such an object does not exist.
Or if it does,
It cannot be easily obtained.
So he chose this path.
Risk.
Cost.
Control.
All within himself.
And now,
The foundation has been laid.
The second night arrives, and with it, Merin resumes the silent gathering of dream energy, drawing in the silver mist from countless sleeping minds and refining it steadily into the dual currents of Yin and Yang that circulate within his spirit space.
The third night follows.
Then the fourth.
Then the fifth.
Each night deepens the transformation, as the Yin and Yang energies grow denser, more stable, more complete, gradually replacing all that once existed within his spirit space with their perfect, opposing balance.
By halfway through the sixth night, nothing remains of the former structure.
His entire spirit space is filled.
Only Yin.
Only Yang.
Circling.
Intertwining.
Endless.
Merin moves to the next step.
He gathers them.
Compresses them.
Refines them further.
The vast currents condense inward, drawn together under his will, collapsing from an infinite expanse into a single point.
A core begins to form.
Black.
White.
Spinning slowly.
Balanced.
Absolute.
Days pass.
Uncounted.
The process is slow, deliberate, requiring precision that allows no deviation.
Then,
The core stabilises.
Around it, a force emerges.
A gravitational field.
It spreads outward, forming a protective shell, like a planet surrounded by its own invisible pull, anchoring everything within its domain.
Merin observes.
Then changes it.
The spherical force shifts.
Reshapes.
Flattens.
The gravitational field becomes a dome.
Suspended over a flat expanse.
A controlled world.
Structured.
Intentional.
Then,
The fourteenth night arrives.
Merin begins again.
Dream energy flows in once more, merging with the Yin and Yang that now radiate steadily from the core, and through their interaction, something new is born.
Fire.
Earth.
Water.
Wind.
The four fundamental elements emerge.
At first faint.
Then clearer.
Then fully formed.
Night after night, they grow.
Expanding.
Stabilizing.
Until they fill the entirety of his spirit space.
They do not mix.
They remain distinct.
Each occupying its place.
Arranged in motion.
They revolve slowly in a clockwise direction.
Fire stands opposite Water.
Earth and Wind lie between them, balancing the cycle, forming a continuous flow that sustains itself.
At the centre,
Merin remains.
Still.
Unmoving.
Under his control, the elements begin to converge.
They gather.
Collide.
Merge briefly at the centre.
Then separate again.
But this time,
They do not return as before.
Each element moves outward.
Claims its own direction.
Expands.
Forms a plane.
A space of its own.
The Fire Element forms its domain.
The Earth Element shapes its own world.
The Water Element spreads into its expanse.
The Wind Element fills its boundless sky.
Four elemental planes.
Stable.
Independent.
Yet connected.
And around the core,
Where their influence overlaps,
The elements blend.
Interacting.
Creating a new region where balance and transformation coexist.
Merin stops.
The formation halts.
Not incomplete,
But paused.
Because something else demands his attention.
A message has arrived.
A piece of news that spreads across the world.
Shocking to many.
Unbelievable.
But to him,
It is expected.
A matter of course.
Merin rises.
And summons a meeting in his court.