Chapter 99: The Beginning

The Zhou Wang Boxing Hall.

In the spacious training ground, the polished wooden floor gleamed under the lights. At the center stood a middle-aged man in training clothes, demonstrating boxing techniques.

Young disciples sat in the audience seats—some serious practitioners, others casual hobbyists. Regardless of their reasons, all obeyed the boxing hall’s ironclad rule: Tuesday training sessions were mandatory.

“Find this interesting?”

“People need purpose. Otherwise, life’s too dull.”

Wu Qiuyue in black casual wear settled into a corner seat. Beside her sat a pale, high-school-aged apprentice radiating sinister coldness—more corpse than human.

“You overstepped. Your people approached my mother.”

“I’ll handle it.”

“I’ll wait.”

Wu Qiuyue left as the student joined the master’s training. When she exited, the student froze mid-movement.

So did everyone else—instructors, audience members—all becoming motionless puppets. The hall had contained only one real person all along.

“Master, the Corpse Lord escaped.”

A new apprentice entered calmly. The instructor facing the student frowned, speaking with the student’s identical voice: “What happened?”

“Interference. The Corpse Lord panicked.”

“Who?”

“Unknown. No traces found.”

After silence, a female spectator stood and headed out. “Investigate. Find who summoned the Corpse Lord and why. Kill them after getting answers. Send the head to the Demoness.”

“Understood.” The apprentice showed no surprise.

“Alliance rules remain absolute. Cross the red line—die.”

Chen Fei’s Home

After hospital discharge, Zuo Meng called this body’s parents. Soon, brother Chen Yue drove him home.

Zuo Meng navigated through Chen Fei’s patchy memories. His original plan to search for the giant’s true form was shelved after last night’s warning—without self-defense skills, maintaining routine was safer.

Post-dinner, Zuo Meng felt world-rejection pressing against him.

“White piece moved.”

He grasped the situation—the dormant giant’s subconscious had countered his black piece move with crude expulsion. The pressure shortened his stay but changed nothing crucial.

“One chess piece, thirty years’ internal energy.”

Zuo Meng flexed his arm, observing energy flows. A giant Creator’s world demanded staggering costs—an era’s accumulated power here only made him top-tier martial artist, not Transcendent.

“Residual soul energy remains. Cultivation can reclaim it.”

As Creator, he pinpointed lingering energy particles for later harvesting.

“Priority: gauge this world’s depths. Last night’s encounter confirmed extraordinary beings exist. Must assess their strength…”

This differed from his Dream World dominion. Here, harsh native rules constrained him—a vaster, denser reality needing careful study.

“Adapt Dream World martial arts first.”

Overlapping fundamentals existed—like shared rules 1-10 within this world’s 1-1000 framework. Drawing on eons of knowledge, Zuo Meng selected:

1. Hunyuan Sword Dao (created by sword master slain by Demon Monk Jie Ming)

2. Emperor of Chu’s Supreme Heavenly Book

3. His own Tai Chu Immortal Classics

The latter two sufficed. As Creator, cultivation formalities preceded inevitable rule manipulation.

“Sword Master was genius,” Zuo Meng mused. “Pity he faced Jie Ming—that monster who crushed contemporaries and glimpsed my true form despite mortality.”

Rules defined all. Below Sages, all were ants—for Sages dictated reality’s laws. Under rules, equality was enforced tyranny.