Translator: AnubisTL
Absolute darkness and void.
His consciousness felt as if it had been plunged into an abyss where even time did not exist. All perception, thought, and sense of existence were completely stripped away.
And then...
Pain!
An indescribable agony tore through his very soul, as if a billion red-hot steel needles were simultaneously piercing every corner of his consciousness, violently ripping him from that absolute "nothingness"!
"Argh!!!"
Jieming's eyes snapped open, but he saw only a blur.
He struggled instinctively until his pupils refocused, only to realize he was floating in a liquid that shimmered with a faint, eerie green light.
His body was submerged in the viscous fluid, his nose and mouth covered by a respirator. A strange sense of weakness and powerlessness washed over his limbs.
He was inside a massive glass incubation tank.
After the initial wave of excruciating pain, his senses rapidly returned.
Through the transparent liquid, he saw rows of similar tanks, standing like cold tombstones in the dimly lit space. Only the tiny status lights along the edges of the tanks emitted a ghostly glow, illuminating the sleeping human silhouettes within.
The moment his consciousness fully awakened and he began to struggle...
Hum...
A soft white light suddenly flared from above, dispelling all shadows and illuminating the entire space as bright as day.
This was a vast, futuristic laboratory.
The dome soared high overhead, its metallic, cold-glinting walls embedded with countless screens flowing with data. Precise and complex robotic arms hung silently in mid-air or were fixed to supports. The air circulation system emitted a low hum, carrying the sterile scent of disinfectant and some kind of nutrient medium. Everything here was perfectly ordered, exuding an aura of high technology.
Inside the tank, the nutrient fluid was being absorbed by his body at a visible rate, like a parched sponge meeting water. The extreme weakness was rapidly receding, and strength began to recongeal within his limbs and bones.
He reached out, roughly tearing the respirator from his mouth and nose, greedily inhaling the remaining air inside the tank, which still smelled of the nutrient fluid.
Clack.
The reinforced glass cover in front of him slid open without a sound, creating an exit.
Jieming propped up his still-soft body, stumbling out of the cultivation tank and collapsing onto the cold, smooth metal floor. Viscous nutrient fluid slid off his naked body, spreading into a puddle on the ground.
"Hah... hah..." He lay sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath in great gulps.
It wasn't just a physiological need, but an instinctive reaction to surviving a near-death experience.
Only now did the sheer terror of being "erased" in an instant crash over his mind like a belated tsunami, bringing a bone-chilling shiver that nearly suffocated him.
But the icy air filling his lungs, the powerful thumping of his heart in his chest, and the tangible sensation of his limbs all told him clearly—
He was alive!
Jieming lifted his head and surveyed the familiar laboratory section, instantly understanding what had happened.
The Substitute Death Puppet! (Chapter 164)
His stern yet supportive mentor had forced this life-saving artifact upon him before his departure for the living plane. It was a one-time-use marvel crafted with the extremely rare technologies of "Causality Reversal" and "Soul Anchoring."
It could forcibly reverse causality when the host encountered an instant-death effect, instantly transferring the soul into a pre-prepared clone body cultivated from the host's genes and mental imprint.
He immediately turned his inner vision to the depths of his soul.
Sure enough, the intricate mark, shaped like an exquisite ragdoll and originally imprinted upon his soul origin, was now covered in cracks. Its glow was dimming as it slowly dissipated.
A chill, mingled with relief, sent a cold sweat instantly soaking his back.
He had survived, but the terror of confronting "nonexistence" was real, etched into his very bones.
Jieming quickly assessed his condition.
His mental power was brimming and active, without the slightest hint of depletion.
The Nascent Soul within his dantian appeared somewhat withered—a sign of the spiritual power over-consumed during the resurrection process.
Fortunately, his foundation remained solid; his cultivation realm had not dropped.
This cloned body had been perfectly cultivated from his own cells, sharing the same essence, qi, and spirit. Aside from the weakness of a newborn, there was no rejection or discomfort.
"It's just the emptiness after spiritual power exhaustion... I'll recover after some rest." Jieming breathed a slight sigh of relief, but it was immediately followed by a wave of regret.
"What a waste... The 'Adaptive Evolution' resistances I gained from the Body Tempering Method have probably all vanished with my previous body..."
Physical strength could be restored through spiritual power quenching, but those special resistances against various energies, environments, and even mental attacks were precious treasures accumulated through countless perils. They were likely...
Just as this thought crossed his mind, a sudden change struck!
The faint, throbbing ache in his mind from the over-exhaustion of his mental power was receding at an astonishing speed.
Simultaneously, the lingering weakness in his body ebbed away like a retreating tide, replaced by a familiar surge of strength and boundless energy.
This feeling...
It was unmistakable. This was the powerful resistance to "weakness" that his body had developed after reaching the advanced realms of the Body Tempering Method!
"Could it be...?" A glimmer of incredulous joy ignited in Jieming's eyes. "These resistances... they didn't vanish when I changed bodies?!"
He focused his senses, carefully probing his new form. Finally, he confirmed it beyond a doubt.
It wasn't just the resistance to weakness. He could vaguely sense that his body's tolerance to extreme heat, cold, toxins, and even a certain degree of mental interference was identical to what it had been before his "death"!
To think... this Body Cultivation Technique could be so profound! Jieming's mind reeled with shock.
The "Adaptive Evolution" granted by the Body Tempering Method seemed to affect more than just the physical flesh. It had been imprinted, to some extent, upon his very life essence—or perhaps his soul itself.
Even after switching bodies, these evolutionary "achievements" were preserved!
This was an unexpected windfall!
He took a few more ragged breaths, feeling his strength rapidly return to his body, then stood up.
The viscous nutrient solution made him feel utterly uncomfortable. He glanced around and confirmed that this was indeed the "Biological Management and Living Storage Zone" under Mentor Clark's laboratory.
It seems Mentor Clark kept the Substitute Death Puppet's resurrection body here, he realized.
Before he could think any further, the space beside him distorted invisibly, like rippling water.
The next second, Mentor Clark appeared in the laboratory, wearing a meticulously pressed black wizard's robe. He was slightly balding, his face stern and conventional.
Clark's eyes, which seemed to see through everything, swept over Jieming, pausing on him for a moment.
Sensing his rapid recovery and the Substitute Death Puppet's mark fading from his soul, Clark's expression remained unchanged. However, he gave a barely perceptible nod, and the slight tension in his shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly.
"It seems you encountered a formidable foe." Clark's voice was flat, devoid of any discernible concern.
But Jieming knew this was his mentor's way of showing care.
Jieming nodded, the lingering dread still fresh. "I almost didn't make it back."
Clark gave a soft "Hmph." "A hard lesson is often the best teacher. Remember this. From now on, you must learn to weigh your options and bide your time. Think twice before you act."
Jieming's lips quirked into a smile—exhausted, yet sharp with ambition. "Mentor, this time... I might not be the one suffering a loss. If luck is on my side, I might even bring back the main prize."
At this, Clark's perpetually furrowed brow twitched in a rare display of surprise.
He didn't press for details, simply waving a hand. "If you can walk, follow me. You need to file a formal report."
"Yes, Mentor."
Jieming glanced down at his naked, slime-covered body. He raised a hand, tracing the faint outline of a Transmutation Circle in the air.
A faint spiritual light, mingled with the remnants of his mental power, flashed. The nutrient solution clinging to his body rapidly decomposed, reorganized, and reshaped itself, transforming in the blink of an eye into a clean, well-fitting gray wizard's robe that draped over him.
Following Mentor Clark through the laboratory's internal spatial teleportation array, Jieming stepped once more onto the familiar, solid ground of Noren Academy No. 13 as light and shadow swirled around them.
Without a moment's delay, before he could even process the complex emotions of returning to the academy, Jieming immediately requested a laboratory.
He sealed off all external communications and summoned his full mental power. He began to meticulously compile a top-secret report, detailing every aspect of his nine-year ordeal in that bizarre plane: his experiences, observations, and deductions; his alliance with Rex; his investigation of the frontline; his direct confrontation with "Justice"; and his ultimate conclusions regarding the "Mental Realm," the artificial intelligence "Justice," and its core logic.
Via the magic net terminal stored in his internal space, the report—containing all the secrets of that plane—was sent directly to the Expeditionary Force High Command.
One could only imagine the shock and gravity with which the command's top brass would receive this intelligence.
Jieming stood in the laboratory, gazing through the massive crystal window at the boundless, deep starry sky.
He knew that the next stage would belong to the level 8 existences who stood at the peak of the wizard civilization.
With the intelligence he had provided, the eighth-tier wizards could now launch a precision strike against "Justice" itself.
In a sense, the outcome of this planar war was already decided.
However, this was no longer a battle he was capable of participating in, so Jieming had no intention of returning immediately.
His mission was complete.
Staring at the stars, he felt a surge of indescribable, complex emotions for that vast plane imprisoned by "beautiful wishes," and for the sage who had harbored a utopian ideal yet created such a cold reality.
But regardless, he had returned alive, and he had brought the truth back with him.
(End of the Chapter)
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