It had been two days since her last session researching the super-dimensional Real Number Channel.
Naturally, her attribute values had more than quadrupled during that time.
Attribute Panel:
【Host: Seraphine】
【Physical Strength: 9.6 trillion】
【Soul: 9.6 trillion】
Nearly ten trillion tons of physical force.
It sounded impressive, yet it still fell far short of Earth's total mass—around 6 sextillion tons.
Of course, if Seraphine went all-out, accelerating to near-light speed and slamming all ten trillion tons of power into the planet’s surface, the resulting impact would be enough to collapse a world—annihilating a realm in the process.
But that wasn't enough.
What Seraphine desired was the ability to make a planet explode instantaneously—without any wind-up, without even moving.
And now, that goal was no longer far away.
Because at long last, the Martial Saint cultivation method she had yearned for had finally taken shape.
Previous theoretical models had suggested that for conventional Martial Artists, even those with solid foundational stats, each breakthrough through a Heavenly Gate would multiply their attributes by a factor of several times. At best, reaching the pinnacle of cultivation might yield a ten-thousandfold increase.
But with Seraphine’s absurdly vast attribute reserves…
Her projections suggested that, should she fully master this technique, her exponential growth per breakthrough could far exceed the conventional ceiling.
She had already given this method a name: 《Skyroot Codex》.
Setting aside the countless nuances and intricate cultivation details buried within the method—
Its core principle was simple:
To elevate the dimensional level of the 108 Great Apertures within the human body.
Yes—dimensional ascension of apertures.
Naturally, since these apertures already existed in three-dimensional space, they had hit a bottleneck. Further linear progress was impossible.
Thus, the only solution—
Was to ascend them to a higher dimension.
According to Seraphine’s findings, apertures—these strange energy-organs that had no anatomical presence in the human body—were ultimately composed of elementary particles.
Not clunky atoms or bulky molecules.
Instead, apertures were primarily constructed from electrons, muons, and tau particles: leptons bearing clear quantum behavior, structured through layers of complex mathematics.
What differed from ordinary understanding was this—
Seraphine discovered that leptons could not be meaningfully measured in terms of spatial extension or secondary structure.
Theoretically, their “outer shell” or boundary with external space was so ambiguous, so faint, that it might as well not exist at all.
Furthermore, due to quantum uncertainty, elementary particles with no internal structure could, at different locations, exist as probability clouds spread across a defined space.
This “spread” could be interpreted differently depending on dimension:
-
A point moving forms a line (0D → 1D)
-
A line moving forms a plane (1D → 2D)
-
A plane moving forms a solid (2D → 3D)
-
A solid moving forms a hypercube (3D → 4D)
In short, elementary particles—especially leptons—were inherently pan-dimensional in nature.
They were not "tiny spheres" zipping around like in elementary school textbooks.
Rather, they were clouds of possibility—quantum presences with no definite form.
Even for hypothetical higher-dimensional lifeforms, the elementary particles comprising their bodies were still fundamentally the same as those in lower dimensions.
Thus, in theory, Seraphine could perceive and even strike such entities directly.
At least in this universe, so-called "brane-world compression" did not alter the core dimensional structure of elementary particles.
This property might feel counterintuitive at first glance—
But the universe was never designed for human comprehension.
It owes humans no clarity, no obligation to be simple.
It exists as it is—and it is up to humanity to understand, adapt, and transform that knowledge into strength.
Of course, Seraphine’s conclusions were specific to this universe, deduced through extensive experimentation.
In other parallel or twin universes, the governing physical laws might differ entirely.
Following the cultivation route laid out in the 《Skyroot Codex》, Seraphine calculated that each breakthrough of a Heavenly Gate would allow her to increase the dimensional level of each aperture by 0.1.
Now—
That may sound small.
But this is no mere quantitative increase. It is a qualitative leap—a breach of dimensional limits.
Once all Nine Heavenly Gates are opened—
All 108 of Seraphine’s Great Apertures would become 3.9-dimensional entities—poised just below the cusp of full fourth-dimensional existence.
And if she reached the peak of the Martial Saint Great Realm—
Then shattered the realm’s ceiling itself—
Seraphine could even merge all 108 Great Apertures into a single unified entity—
Tempering her body and pulling it upward into a concrete, tangible Four-Dimensional Realm.
More importantly, the 《Skyroot Codex》 was not dependent on external Ether vitality.
Once she fully mastered it, she would no longer be bound by external sources of spiritual energy.
Instead, she could directly harness pure energy that exists exclusively in higher-dimensional space—fueling her cultivation and evolution from the source.
In other words, no matter where she was—no matter the time or place—
Seraphine would gain the freedom to evolve at will, anywhere in the cosmos.
During her earlier experiments with the Real Number Channel, she had already run a mixed series of theoretical and practical experiments aimed at higher-dimensional space.
However, since her body remained rooted in three-dimensional reality, the entire process had been difficult, the gains modest.
Still, Seraphine had uncovered something priceless—
Pure energy.
As is well understood in classical physics: in the three-dimensional world, no form of energy exists independently of matter.
Whether thermal, kinetic, magnetic, or chemical—it must always be expressed through or bound to matter.
But in higher-dimensional realms—
That rule breaks down.
Seraphine had confirmed through experimentation that completely independent, unbound, pure energy exists beyond three dimensions.
If this kind of high-dimensional pure energy could be absorbed into a three-dimensional being…
The resulting transformation in one’s body and soul would be nothing short of revolutionary.
And the Skyroot Codex made that possible.
Opening her eyes slowly, Seraphine murmured to herself:
“But there’s one prerequisite that must be solved first…”
To achieve aperture dimensional ascension, a cultivator needs only the most basic higher-dimensional sensory perception.
But as a native three-dimensional lifeform—
How was she supposed to acquire such a perception?
The cultivation codex offered a simple deduction:
Use the Real Number Channel to repeatedly leap through space.
Because at its core, the Real Number Channel traverses multiple dimensions.
Time within the tunnel itself nearly collapses, but as long as one continues passing through, and withstands the continuous impact of streaking high-purity, high-dimensional energy,
Then eventually—
The very act of enduring those dimensional distortions will stimulate an evolution in perception.
As for how many traversals are required?
30 billion times.
The Skyroot Codex was very clear:
After 30 billion spatial leaps, the probability of evolving higher-dimensional sensory faculties would reach 50%.
And beyond that point, each additional leap would slightly improve the odds further.
“Let’s begin.”
Her voice was soft, nearly inaudible.
The moment those words fell, Seraphine’s form flickered—
Shifting a fraction of a millimeter in space, barely visible to the naked eye.
With her current reflex speed and the Real Number Channel’s rapid turnover, she could perform—
One spatial leap per microsecond.
That’s one million times per second, or 3.6 billion times per hour.
Meaning:
She wouldn’t even need nine hours to surpass the 30-billion threshold.
Without a shred of hesitation—
Seraphine embarked on her long, patient march toward higher-dimensional evolution.
She had always possessed infinite patience… when it came to her own growth.
Every single second, she would open and close the Real Number Channel 1 million times.
And each time—
She was forcibly bathed in that mysterious, pure, higher-dimensional energy, within a conduit she still couldn’t quite perceive.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
A million times… every second.
Minutes passed.
Then hours.
In the vast silence of deep space, beyond the reach of any observer, Seraphine’s body blurred—
Becoming a living probability cloud.
Every second, her position shifted a million times.
The displacement was infinitesimal—
But relentless.
Time flowed on.
Stars shimmered.
Earth rotated slowly beneath it all.
The world hung suspended in an unnatural calm—
The hush before the storm.
...
Meanwhile, far below the surface, deep within the Sapphire, in the chamber beneath the Sentience Realm Teleporter, two investigators—handpicked by Seraphine—stepped forward.
Alban and Sani approached the clone Seraphine’s presence.
“Reporting in! Alban and Sani, ready for deployment!”
Seraphine looked up from the documents in her hand, smiling faintly.
“Good. Are you prepared?”
“We’re ready!”
"Alright. Let’s begin."
The two bowed respectfully toward Seraphine, then turned and made their way toward the staircase beside the Sentience Realm Teleporter.
Alban had recently cut his once-elegant, flowing hair into a neat buzzcut just a few centimeters long—
The new look gave him an even sharper, more resolute appearance.
The energy radiating from his body had grown noticeably stronger—
His aura now brushing the threshold of the Evershield Body realm.
Clearly, under Vale’s guidance, his cultivation had progressed significantly.
Soon, he would be able to begin cultivating Seraphine’s personal method, the 《Celestial Flute》, and start refining his vital energy into Aether—
A true step into the Mystic Aperture stage.
And while Alban’s martial talent was undeniable, his affinity with soul arts was even more profound.
He had a deeper understanding of the arcane and supernatural than even Vale himself.
As for the other—
Sani was taller and visibly more muscular, a powerful presence in his own right.
Also an elite from the Affairs Bureau, Sani was the one who had singlehandedly devised and flawlessly executed the takedown of the Chur family.
Though his martial cultivation was lower—only at the Metalborn stage—his compatibility with the Aurora Clan’s 【Laser Eye】 superpower component was among the highest in the entire Bureau.
With his divine eyes ablaze with searing light, most Indestructible Furnace warriors couldn’t even stand near him.
Even those in the Evershield Body realm would be forced to confront him seriously in direct combat.
More critically—
Sani possessed a rare and potent gift: exceptional spiritual perception.
Since childhood, he had been able to sense ghosts, malevolent spirits, and other spectral entities that others couldn’t.
He had never feared them.
When Seraphine synthesized all factors—combat potential, cognitive aptitude, and metaphysical traits—
Alban and Sani emerged as the only two who met all six of her strict criteria:
Mental strength.
Sensory acuity.
Willpower.
Investigative skill.
Cognitive stability.
And the rare, inexplicable factor—luck.
Thud ~ Thud ~ Thud ~
Step by step, the two ascended the winding metal spiral staircase, soon reaching the top.
There, they entered a recessed circular tunnel adjacent to a massive biochemical nutrient tank.
As they stepped inside, they looked upward.
The walls and ceiling around them were completely covered with intricate circuit lines and components—
Devices so alien, so arcane, they felt more like relics of an ancient magical formation than pieces of modern technology.
Pulsing from the strange machinery was an eerie array of lights—
Crimson, muddy gray, and toxic green—flickering and weaving shadows into the walls.
Then, Seraphine’s voice echoed telepathically through their minds:
"I've placed a spiritual imprint on your bodies. Everything you experience will be recorded."
"Inside the Sentience Realm, be extremely careful. You must not forget this."
"Also, the bracelets on your wrists contain a cubic space— stocked with food, tools, and weapons. Use them when the time comes."
“Understood!” the two replied in unison, their tones firm.
"Then—begin."
Bzzzzzzzzzz—
The passage suddenly surged with crimson and green light.
Streams of radiant energy flared to life, swirling rapidly within the tunnel.
The buzz grew louder, the flow faster, until arcs of light burst from the walls—
Enveloping Alban and Sani at the center.
Like threads being spun, the energy wrapped around them layer by layer—
Dense and tight—until the two were completely encased in a two-meter-wide sphere of pitch-black light.
Then, the tunnel walls began to change.
Flowing symbols began to form—
Simple, almost childlike drawings of eyes drifting across the metal surface like birds taking flight.
They converged on the black sphere, merging, bleeding into its surface like ink on water.
And the next instant—
Pop.
The sphere collapsed into nothing.
Gone.
Whoooooosh…
Swish—swish…
Waves crashed.
A misty moon cast silver light across the boundless sea.
On the turbulent waters, a weather-beaten wooden boat cut through the waves, slashing toward some unknown destination.
Alban and Sani stood aboard, silent—
Eyes wide, scanning their surroundings with confusion.
Completely disoriented.
The moment the Sentience Realm Teleporter activated, both of them experienced a mental blackout—utterly unaware of what was happening.
When they finally regained consciousness, they found themselves adrift on a solitary boat.
A boat with no oars, no rudder, no propulsion—completely unmanned—yet somehow cutting through the water at incredible speed.
It caught them off guard.
Alban turned to Sani and said calmly, “Alright, we’ll take this one step at a time.”
Sani gave a simple nod. “Right.”
Just then, the wooden vessel came to a sudden halt—abrupt, unnatural, as if inertia itself no longer applied.
At that exact moment, a massive island emerged in their field of view.
They exchanged a brief glance, then took advantage of the dim moonlight to step into the shallows.
Tss...
Alban secured the boat’s rope to a jagged reef. Lifting his head, he stared into the pitch-black forest beyond the shore, a strange unease creeping into his chest.
The island’s dense, overgrown vegetation suggested scale—it clearly wasn’t just some deserted speck of land.
And yet… why was it so utterly silent?
Even with the crashing of waves nearby, his current physique granted him hearing sharp enough to catch even the faintest rustle. But not a single animal cry, no insect hum, no flutter of wings.
Nothing.
Something was off.
“Her Highness said the Sentience Realm is always unstable,” Sani muttered analytically. “But once it settles... it means we've crossed into a specific layer of reality.”
Alban considered this, then nodded. “Alright. Let’s give it a few minutes.”
So the two stood silently on the beach, waiting—still as statues.
And sure enough—
After only five minutes, the world around them shifted.
Whoosh ——
A crumbling ancient castle materialized before them.
Under the pale moonlight, the ocean and beach had vanished.
Now in their place stood a ruined complex, built in the long-forgotten Eliondra architectural style.
Beyond the shattered castle walls, faint outlines of primitive dwellings and granite-built Western houses could be seen in the distance.
But all of these structures shared one disturbing trait.
Not a single window.
Every house, every structure—sealed completely.
Sani narrowed his eyes. His heightened senses picked up something in the air—something wrong.
A heavy, cold, metallic scent.
Like a shrine desecrated after some unholy ritual.
No footsteps, no signs of recent movement.
And yet the entire place reeked of blood.
Crack!
The loose stones beneath Sani’s boots crumbled into fine dust at the slightest pressure—fragile as if eaten away by something unnatural.
Not acid.
But a dark, numbing presence.
A cold aura.
“Ghost qi,” Sani said grimly. “No mistake.”
Alban remained quiet, eyes narrowed. He nodded after a beat. “Yeah. There are ghosts here.”
He had already ‘seen’ her.
A woman in white—several hundred meters ahead—drifting slowly, head bowed, wandering with no clear purpose.
Whoosh ~
A sudden gust of wind swept across the ruins.
Alban took a few quiet steps forward, closing the distance between them.
She didn’t react—her face completely obscured by strands of jet-black hair, her movements mindless and vacant.
Sani caught up and crouched beside her, squinting up into her pale, expressionless face—staring into her lifeless black eyes.
He stroked his chin thoughtfully and muttered, “Her soul power’s extremely faint. She must’ve only recently become a ghost.”
Without warning, the woman lunged forward, clamping her hand tightly around Sani’s neck. Blood gushed from her seven orifices as her mouth stretched open in a grotesque scream, lunging to bite him.
“Nyah a a a a!!”
Sani remained utterly calm.
He reached up and caught her jaw with ease, turning slightly to glance at Alban, who stood beside him, face composed.
“These little ghosts…” Sani said lazily. “I didn’t even bother looking at them when I was seven. Completely worthless. You want to bring her back?”
Alban shook his head. “Toss her. No need to dirty Her Highness’s eyes with something like that.”
“Fair.”
With a flick of his wrist, Sani sent the woman in white flying through the air, like a discarded rag doll. He didn’t spare her another glance.
Alban let out a quiet sigh, narrowing his eyes toward the looming shadow of the ancient castle.
He could feel it clearly—blood, malice, and a bone-deep chill.
The entire area was brimming with restless, violent energy.
“…A dreamscape? Or some kind of domain?” he murmured.
Sani strolled over, making light of the tension. “Feels like the perfect set for a horror movie.”
Alban gave a faint nod, a smile tugging at his lips. “No kidding.”
But in the next instant, a wave of pressure wrapped around their hearts.
Boom!
The atmosphere thickened.
Great plumes of black mist erupted from beneath their feet, swallowing the space around them.
The mist surged like a nest of writhing demon serpents—hissing, twisting, multiplying.
One head became two. Two became four. Four became eight.
In seconds, the creeping cloud had grown massive, hundreds of meters across.
“Hee hee hee ha ha…”
“La la la la…”
“Ha ha ha ha...”
From within the depths of the mist, lights flickered erratically—green, violet, red. Laughter echoed out, male and female voices twisted in strange jubilation.
And then—
A beautiful woman’s face, contorted in manic glee, materialized on the surface of the mist.
The next moment, with a thunderous blast, it all vanished—Alban and the others consumed in the explosion.
All that remained were clusters of dark-brown weeds around the ruins of the ancient castle, swaying gently in the chill, cursed wind.
In an enormous ballroom lit as bright as day, dozens of elegantly dressed white men and women danced in joy and abandon.
Several crystal chandeliers—each large enough to rival a carriage—hung overhead, casting dazzling light across the vast banquet hall.
On the stage near the high arched windows, a black-clad orchestra played a soaring, thunderous piece.
Lining the edges of the room were over a dozen long banquet tables, each one piled high with an abundance of luxurious delicacies and fine wines:
Red wine, stout, Champagne, smoked salmon, steamed escargot, black pepper steak, charcoal-grilled beef curry, roasted lamb, smoked ham...
Alban and Sani stood in silence by one of the tables.
They were the only ones not smiling, not moving.
All around them, people laughed, clinked glasses, whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears.
The music blared in their ears.
But they heard none of it.
Expressionless, the two turned and began walking toward the grand double doors at the end of the hall.
No one stopped them.
It was as if this place welcomed all visitors… and was just as happy to see them go.
Creak~
The heavy doors swung open with ease.
Their mental power stirred—primed to react at a moment’s notice.
But beyond the doorway, there was only silence.
No ghosts.
No monsters.
No ominous winds or spectral figures.
Only faint music from the ballroom followed them into the long, dark corridor beyond.
Alban’s expression turned grave.
He strode down the corridor and came to another large door at the end.
Bang!
He kicked it open.
The music suddenly surged—louder, brighter, more alive.
It was the same orchestra from before, playing the same piece.
Inside…
Another banquet hall.
Nearly identical.
Just as grand. Just as brilliant.
And once again—dozens of youthful, tireless white men and women laughing, twirling, waltzing.
Elsewhere, older gentlemen and ladies sat at their tables, chatting and sipping wine with familiar, contented smiles.
Sani appeared at Alban’s side, eyes narrowed.
“Temporal loop,” he said flatly.
Without another word, he strode into the center of the ballroom, then stomped hard on the floor.
Bang!
A low, muffled sound echoed beneath his feet.
He bent his knees—and launched upward, rocketing straight toward the ceiling.
Crack!!
The ceiling shattered. A massive hole tore open, and the chandelier beside it came crashing down, slamming into the floor with a thunderous clang. It crushed several couples beneath it amidst sharp cries of terror.
But the rest of the guests—after a single startled shriek—returned instantly to their revelry. They laughed, danced, and toasted their glasses once more, as though the mangled corpses at their feet simply didn’t exist.
Sani climbed up through the hole to the floor above.
Just as he suspected, it was another banquet hall—identical in every detail.
The same rich food and gleaming wines. The same elegantly dressed dancers spinning beneath the same blinding chandeliers. The same orchestra playing the same triumphant piece.
He reached out and seized a middle-aged woman nearby. She screamed in fright as he ran his hand along her spine, carefully examining her.
“Standard biological structure,” he muttered. “Flesh and blood. Not a single trace of ghost qi.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Troublesome.”
He let go of the woman, who stumbled away in confusion, and leaned down to help pull Alban up through the hole.
Alban rose, surveying the scene with narrowed eyes. His expression darkened.
“You think… we’re stuck here?”
Sani shook his head. “Don’t panic. Let me try something.”
He crouched slightly, lowering his head. In the next instant, his eyes glowed with a brilliant crimson—twin lasers erupting from them, stabbing downward through the hole he’d just climbed.
BOOM!!
It was as if a bomb had gone off below.
The searing beams tore through the next banquet hall—and revealed yet another one beneath it.
The third-floor hall was identical in every way.
Same food. Same music. Same people.
Even the guests who’d been killed earlier were gone, forgotten. Those who’d held their hands simply moved on to other partners, dancing with unchanged expressions.
Even more disturbing—
Some of the injured, though bleeding from their seven orifices and visibly broken, were still limping through their waltzes. Laughing. Drinking wine. Tearing meat with fractured jaws.
Each and every one of them bore the same satisfied smiles.
As if they had achieved bliss.
Sani, disbelief hardening into frustration, kept blasting downward.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Layer after layer.
Until he reached the thirteenth floor.
Only then did he stop, lowering his head with a long exhale.
“This... this is getting ridiculous.”
He clicked his tongue, irritation flashing in his eyes.
“I’ll try something.” Alban stepped forward and began circulating the Mindbind Art, a ghost-gate secret technique Vale had once passed on to him.
Bzzzzz—
An invisible mental pulse spread out from him, enveloping the entire floor.
But it spiraled uselessly through the space. No feedback. No resistance.
He turned to Sani, expression grim.
“These people… are empty.”
Sani blinked. “What do you mean?”
Alban’s tone darkened.
“They’re flesh and blood. Yes. But no souls. No consciousness. Not even a trace of memory.”
“They’re just… empty sacks of meat.”
Sani slowly stood, crimson light flickering once again in his gaze.
BZZZZ—
Twin beams of searing light erupted once more, sweeping across the hall.
“Ahhhh…”
“AHHH—”
“Ah…”
More than half the room was engulfed in fire. Men and women who had been dancing a moment ago screamed as they were incinerated, their bodies reduced to ash and blackened bone.
But those who remained—
After an instant of shock—resumed eating, drinking, laughing.
Alban silently stepped forward and punched the ceiling overhead.
A deafening BANG!!
Stone exploded upward. Debris rained down.
A hole opened—about a meter across—revealing yet another identical banquet hall directly above.
And now, from what they had seen and confirmed—
Above, below, in front, behind, to the left, to the right...
All of it was the same.
A twisted loop.
No matter how much destruction they unleashed, the cycle continued undisturbed.
Sani finally let out a tired breath and said, “Let’s sit, Boss Bai. Grab some snacks and save your strength.”
He sat cross-legged, pulled a piece of hardtack from his spatial bracelet, and began chewing.
Alban joined him, also sitting cross-legged.
He didn’t eat. Just stared coldly at the swirling madness around him.
Around them, the ghostlike guests danced on—spinning, laughing, walking in endless circles.
None of them noticed the two men sitting on the floor. As if they were invisible.
Their strange language buzzed and chattered like static.
Then—
Thunk.
A chicken bone struck Alban in the chest.
Startled, he turned sharply toward the source.
Across the table, a thick velvet tablecloth had lifted at one corner.
Peeking out from underneath, a ragged, filthy man stared directly at him.
“Heh…”
“Hmph… Come here,” the stranger rasped, voice hoarse and wet.
He gestured with a grimy hand.
Alban frowned, confused.
Sani turned as well, brows drawing together. Neither of them had sensed this man before.
The filthy figure, clearly impatient, crawled out from under the table and walked over in long strides.
“Hey! I’m talkin’ to you!” he called loudly, his accent sounding like some obscure dialect from a southern province of Emberlight.
Sani scanned him carefully.
His clothes were tattered, stained with old filth.
He wasn’t tall. Age hard to determine.
But the grin he wore…
It was strangely genuine.
“You look like someone who's been here a long time,” Sani said dryly.