Ben Mason PoV
Another month passed in a blur of cultivation and crafting. The second extraordinary vessel solidified beneath my focus, vital energy flowing through the newly carved pathway like water finding its course. Fourth layer of Meridian Opening. Progress felt steady, methodical. Nothing spectacular, but consistent.
The Eastern Region had transformed while I worked.
I stood in the meditation chamber, observing American City through the spatial awareness the world bead granted me. The streets teemed with cultivators now, most of them radiating the steady pressure of Body Tempering seventh layer. A far cry from the tentative beginners who'd first stumbled through the portals.
Sarah Carter moved through the crowds near the monument plaza, her own cultivation having reached Body Tempering eighth layer. She'd become something of an administrator, coordinating with the military forces that had established themselves in concentric rings around the city's outer districts.
My identity token buzzed with another forum notification. I pulled up the virtual space interface, scanning through the latest posts.
"Next inscription class when???"
"Heavenly Forge Emporium sold out AGAIN. I waited three hours!"
"Looking to trade: 500 merit points for spot in line at HFE tomorrow morning."
A wry smile tugged at my lips. The inscription classes had done exactly what I'd intended—established my crafting reputation while teaching useful skills. Except now I couldn't walk into my own shop without drawing a crowd.
Rachel handled most of the customer interactions these days. I'd raised her pay yet again to two hundred merit points per hour after she'd proven herself invaluable. The poor girl dealt with lines that stretched around the block every single morning.
Storage rings sold for twenty thousand merit points each. Self-equipping daggers for eight thousand. The prices were astronomical by most standards, yet my shelves emptied within hours of opening.
The demand was insatiable.
Hunters ventured deeper into the wilderness now, protected by self-equipping armor that materialized at the first sign of danger. Military squads from every major nation pushed into territories that would have been suicide attempts a month ago. Even smaller countries had established forward operating bases, their soldiers equipped with weapons and armor purchased from my shop.
The merit point economy had exploded. Spiritual beast cores flooded the market. Rare herbs that used to fetch thousands now sold for hundreds. Competition drove cultivators to take greater risks, venture farther from safe zones.
I'd checked the casualty reports. Thirty-seven confirmed deaths in the past month alone. Most from overconfidence, from cultivators who thought better equipment made them invincible against creatures two or three realms above them.
The virtual space forums had entire threads dedicated to memorializing the fallen.
But for every death, ten more success stories emerged. Families making fortunes through careful hunting. Restaurants on Earth advertising spirit beast steaks and spiritual herb salads. The cultivation phenomenon had stopped being a curiosity and started becoming an economy.
I teleported to the Core Palace. The garden outside had expanded again—Mom's influence, turning acres of plain grassland into organized rows of vegetables and fruit trees.
Christine's presence flickered at the edge of my awareness. She'd brought Emma through the hidden portal again, the two of them laughing over something in the orchard. My sister had become relentless in her matchmaking attempts, manufacturing excuses for Emma and me to spend time together.
Not that I minded.
Emma's breakthrough came three days ago.
I'd sensed it from the Core Palace meditation chamber—her spiritual energy signature flaring as she carved the first primary meridian. The sensation rippled through my awareness of the world bead, distinct from the thousands of other cultivators scattered across the Eastern Region.
Christine had practically tackled me with the news afterward, dragging me to the garden where Emma sat cross-legged beneath one of the spirit fruit trees, her eyes still closed in meditation.
"First layer!" Christine whispered, bouncing on her heels. "Can you believe it? She worked so hard!"
I could believe it. Emma's dedication matched her talent, which was considerable. Soul, Mind, and Life affinities—a combination so rare that finding a suitable cultivation technique had required diving deep into Jihasti's memory vault.
The standard techniques available in the All Paths Library would have been a waste. Generic methods designed for broad compatibility, sacrificing specialization for accessibility. Emma deserved better.
So I'd lied.
"My master provided this," I'd told her a week ago, producing a memory crystal that gleamed with soft lavender light. "He said it's specifically suited for your affinities."
Emma had held the crystal like it might shatter. "Your master? The Eastern Region God?"
"I begged him for something appropriate. Told him about your talents." The fabrication came easily now. "He was impressed. Said cultivators with your combination are destined for greatness if they follow the right path."
The technique itself was anything but standard—Eternal Resonance Art. The name barely hinted at its true nature. Most cultivation methods carved meridians to optimize vital energy flow, focusing on combat effectiveness or elemental manipulation. This one did something far more unique.
Each meridian formed according to precise specifications, creating pathways that resonated with the cultivator's spiritual signature. As the technique progressed through the twelve primary meridians, those pathways would develop the capacity to harmonize with another's spiritual energy. Not domination or control, but symbiosis. A binding that strengthened both parties, creating feedback loops of Soul, Mind, and Life energy that amplified natural abilities.
The technique's true power wouldn't manifest until the third layer at the earliest, when the practitioner's spiritual signature became strong enough to establish permanent resonance bonds. But the foundation had to be laid now, in Meridian Opening first layer, when the meridians were first being carved.
I'd read through the entire technique three times before giving it to Emma, confirming what Jihasti's memories suggested. This wasn't manipulation or enchantment. It was partnership, a cultivation path that grew stronger through genuine connection rather than isolation.
Perfect for someone whose natural affinities already influenced emotions and drew people toward her.
Emma opened her eyes as I approached, Christine having darted off to check on something in the vegetable rows, no doubt to give us privacy for her matchmaking scheme. Her smile held exhaustion but also satisfaction.
"I did it," she said. "The first meridian formed exactly like the technique described. I could feel the pattern taking shape."
"How does it feel?"
She considered the question, tilting her head. "Different from what I expected. The energy flows smoother, almost like it's waiting for something. Does that make sense?"
It made perfect sense. The meridian had carved itself to accommodate resonance patterns that didn't exist yet. Like building a bridge before knowing where the other side would anchor.
"The technique is designed to form a symbiotic bond with a partner," I explained, settling onto the grass beside her. "Your affinities—Soul, Mind, and Life—they're incredible for influence and support. But they lack raw offensive power."
Emma nodded, her expression thoughtful. The afternoon light caught the strands of her hair, and I forced myself to focus on the explanation.
"By imprinting a soul bond with a partner that complements your weaknesses, you make up for that lack. The resonance creates a feedback loop—your partner gains enhanced awareness and regeneration from your affinities. You gain access to their combat capabilities. More importantly, your partner will remain close to you for your entire life, sharing in both life and death together. Both able to instantly arrive to protect the other."
"A spiritual beast." She leaned forward, eyes bright. "You mentioned that before, when you first gave me the technique."
"My master suggested finding something extremely offensive and quick. A Shadow Stalker would be ideal—they're ambush predators with darkness and speed affinities. Perfect complement to what you're missing."
Emma's fingers traced patterns in the grass, vital energy flickering around her hand in response to her thoughts. The first signs of conscious control, barely a day after her breakthrough.
"Unfortunately, it's not exactly a decision that's up to you. According to the manual, you'll automatically imprint with your most suitable partner as soon as you meet them. But only after you finish forming all twelve primary meridians at the third layer." I shrugged. "All I can do to help is take you around to meet spiritual beasts of ideal types until one matches. Cast a wide net and hope for the right connection."
Her eyes lit up with an intensity that made my chest tighten. Pure, unfiltered excitement.
"I've heard all the stories," she said, words tumbling out faster. "People hunting outside the city, fighting actual spiritual beasts like real cultivators. Derek posts about it constantly on the forums. Tyler sends these incredible descriptions of the forest west of here." She gripped my arm. "But with no combat strength and my performance schedule, I can't leave the city safely. I've been stuck watching everyone else live these adventures."
The pressure of her hand sent warmth through my sleeve. I'd told her all of this when I first gave her the technique, but something had shifted. The abstract possibility had crystallized into imminent reality.
"Now that I've had my breakthrough, it feels real." Emma's voice dropped to something almost reverent. "In a few months, maybe less if I cultivate hard enough, I could actually bond with a spiritual beast. Have a partner. Go exploring like everyone else instead of being trapped in safe zones."
"You'd need to be careful," I started, but she cut me off.
"I know, I know. Third layer minimum before the imprinting even becomes possible. But Ben—" She squeezed my arm again. "I can't wait. Every day of cultivation brings me closer. Every meridian I carve is one step toward actually experiencing this world instead of just visiting gardens and libraries."
The garden around us suddenly felt smaller, the Core Palace less like a sanctuary and more like a cage. I recognized that hunger in her expression. The same drive that pushed Tyler into dangerous forests, that sent Derek diving into unexplored territories.
Emma wanted to be more than a spectator in her own cultivation journey.
"Now," Emma looked at me with determined and expectant eyes, "you promised when I reached Meridian Opening that you would teach me the Bone Molding Divine Art! Even if I bonded with a partner and can protect myself, I still could never do so publicly. I could only go out with a disguise."
I had promised her. Reluctantly.
The problem wasn't my willingness to teach the technique. The issue was timing—she was already planning to change her appearance before bonding with a partner. Which meant she might venture into dangerous territory earlier than I'd prefer, disguise giving her false confidence.
Still, I owned the world bead. The Heavenly Dao would intervene if her life reached critical danger. The same protection extended to everyone who entered this realm, though I'd deliberately set the threshold high. Death's door, not the first sign of trouble.
Tyler's encounter with that massive cat last month proved the system worked. He'd nearly died fighting that Shadow Stalker, sustained injuries that would have killed a normal person. But he'd survived through his own strength, harvested valuable materials, grown stronger from the experience.
I didn't want to stunt their growth. Danger was part of cultivation, an essential catalyst for advancement. Wrapping everyone in protective barriers would create weak cultivators who crumbled at the first real threat.
"Come on! You promised!" Emma must have seen the reluctance on my face. She deployed her most devastating weapon—begging while hugging my arm tightly. Very tightly. My arm pressed deep into the softness of her breasts, warmth seeping through fabric.
Damn.
"All right, all right, stop torturing me with those things already!"
Emma's laugh held pure mischief. She knew I was joking through embarrassment. Worse, she'd taken to holding me this way ever since realizing how much it affected me. Christine's influence, probably. My sister had been coaching Emma in the art of flustering me.
I pulled up the technique from memory, explaining the principles while trying to ignore the pressure against my arm. Bone molding required precise control of vital energy, threading it through skeletal structures to soften and reshape them. The real difficulty lay in creating a realistic face that didn't look inhuman and obviously fake.
Emma listened with complete focus, her grip on my arm loosening as concentration took over. Within minutes she'd closed her eyes, vital energy flowing toward her skull in delicate streams.
An hour later, I barely recognized her face.
The bone structure had shifted—cheekbones higher, jawline sharper, nose more prominent. Still beautiful, but in a completely different way. The changes transformed her from girl-next-door charm into something more striking, almost predatory.
"How do I look?" She opened her eyes, grinning with someone else's face.
"Unrecognizable." I meant it. If I hadn't watched the transformation happen, I'd never connect this person to Emma Sullivan.
Emma frowned, glancing down at herself. "The body might be a problem."
I knew what she meant. Bone structure changed faces easily—most facial features depended on skeletal framework. But the body presented different challenges. Height adjusted without issue, but not much could be done about a pair of very large and memorable breasts like hers.
Of course, at that moment Emma's arm blocked her chest and she jokingly struck an over-exaggerated pose as if caught naked. All because my thoughts and eyes strayed to her breasts again.
It had become routine between us. She obviously knew I fixated on them, but never seemed to mind my distraction. Instead, she'd turned my interest into a running joke.
"My eyes are up here, bodyguard," she teased, tapping her transformed cheekbone.
According to TV and media these days, normally a woman would be angry at being stared at like an object. However, Emma was a performance artist and was used to people staring at her. Because of this, I couldn't really tell if she just didn't care that I or anyone was looking at her breasts, or if she just didn't mind because it was me. Feelings were really confusing.