Chapter 318

Standing atop the highest peak of the Kunlun Mountains, Do-Jun gazed beyond the horizon.

The Martial World, which he had thought he would never see again, was before him again, exactly as he remembered it. He had assumed it would have succumbed to the Encroachment, erased by the unfortunate phenomenon, yet here it stood, as if to prove him wrong. The world he had confined to memory, the one he could only recall as nostalgia, was now laid out before him.

He remembered the system message that appeared without warning:

A fragment of the Encroached dimension has been activated.

Based on that, the Martial World had definitely fallen to the Encroachment. Then why were people still alive and well?

Wei Zhongqi had previously mentioned that he and others had fallen into the Tutorial Zone of the Core, and that most of them had died there.

But the people here are alive

, Do-Jun observed

.

And it wasn’t just the members of the Heavenly Demon Sect. The busy townspeople below, moving through the streets at the base of the mountain, each had their own will and consciousness. They weren’t ghosts. Nor were they just wandering souls.

Then, a powerful impact sounded about two kilometers away. The sharp crack of splitting wood echoed as trees were torn apart. Moments later, the reverberation repeated along the ridgeline in succession.

Do-Jun extended his qi sense and detected two distinct energies. He realized the spot was where he cultivated Spiritwood Grass. While not as powerful as Shaolin’s Great Elixir, consuming Spiritwood Grass could boost internal energy to the level of a Small Elixir. It was a highly valued medicinal herb.

With a swish, Do-Jun’s figure vanished.

***

Surah Blood Palm was Guang Le's signature martial arts move. It was a technique so formidable that it had earned him the position of one of the Three Supreme Demons within the Heavenly Demon Sect. Yet, at this moment, he wasn’t using the Surah Blood Palm. As he faced his opponent, Demon Immortal Yao Ping, one of the Sect's leaders, a chilling blue energy gathered in his palm.

A blast of frosty air shot from Guang Le’s hand, tracing an arc through the air as it flew toward Yao Ping. However, Yao Ping easily sidestepped it, maneuvering gracefully to evade. A nearby tree was not as fortunate. It was instantly uprooted and frozen solid with a brittle crack.

Yao Ping let out a hearty laugh. “Where is that Surah Blood Palm of yours that you were so proud of? Here you are, resorting to that feeble Frost Demon Palm! If the Heavenly Demon saw this, he would weep in disappointment!

Kehahahaha

!”

“You keep dodging like a filthy rat! What’s the matter, Yao Ping? Afraid of my palm technique?”

“Afraid? Bah! I could fall asleep watching this pathetic display!” Despite his taunts, Yao Ping was struggling internally.

Guang Le was supposedly killed by Do-Jun in the Core, his end brought about by the very same Frost Demon Palm. But something had changed—the opponent had grown significantly stronger, as if dying once had actually awakened something inside him.

Landing lightly on the ground, Yao Ping looked behind him and realized that he was standing on the edge of a steep cliff. If it had been an ordinary cliff, he might not have worried, but below was the domain of a huge Kunlun spirit beast—a massive serpent coiled deep within.

“Heh... It seems the rat has finally fallen into a trap. Yao Ping! Surrender to me, and I might spare you!” Guang Le offered a deal.

“

Kehaha

! You dare ask an old man like me to surrender? You’ve grown arrogant, haven’t you? Or do you truly wish to test my abilities?”

“Hmph! Still full of your bluff, I see.”

With a hum, frost gathered in Guang Le’s hands.

Yao Ping’s face twitched in alarm, and he frantically waved his hands. “W-wait! Hold on a moment!”

“

Hahaha

! It’s too late to beg now! I’ll make sure you spend at least four days in a sickbed!”

“No, you fool! I mean, you can’t use that technique here! Behind me is...” Yao Ping trailed off, desperately gathering his internal energy to counter Guang Le’s Frost Demon Palm.

Their forces collided in midair, swirling chaotically before erupting in a violent shockwave. The surrounding landscape was caught in the aftermath—rocks shattered, and the earth trembled. The sheer force devastated everything in its wake, including the grassy field behind Yao Ping. The land, once adorned with brilliant, radiant flowers, collapsed entirely. The debris tumbled down the abyss with a crash, swallowed by the endless depths of the cliff.

“No, no!” Yao Ping reached out, trying to grasp at the falling flowers, but it was too late. He stared in utter despair at the cliff’s edge, then collapsed onto the ground, his face pale. He knew what those flowers were.

Tugging at his snow-white hair, he howled, “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done, you fool?!”

“Heh, if you’re planning to pull some trick, you’d better...” Guang Le trailed off.

Stepping closer, he peered down the cliff, stretching his neck for a better view. Mist curled at the bottom, so thick that the depths were indiscernible. He slowly turned to Yao Ping.

“Why? What just fell...?” he asked.

“Those were Spiritwood Grass! You imbecile! Do you understand?! You just wiped out the entire batch!” Yao Ping wailed.

“So what? Kunlun is full of spiritual herbs. Just find more.”

“You fool! Those weren’t just any ordinary herbs! The Heavenly Demon himself grew them! You just destroyed years of his dedicated effort!”

A cold sweat trickled down Guang Le’s back as he gulped in terror.

A heavy silence settled between them. They glanced at each other and then exhaled. Without saying a word, they both understood the same thing.

“Thank goodness,” Guang Le murmured as if trying to reassure himself, staring blankly into the abyss. “Even if the Heavenly Demon cultivated them... he isn’t here right now.”

But something felt off. Yao Ping, who had been ranting just moments earlier, had fallen completely silent. Puzzled, Guang Le turned toward him.

Yao Ping’s face had turned deathly pale. His eyes were fixed on something behind Guang Le, and his mouth opened and closed silently, like a man witnessing something he was not meant to see.

Slowly, Guang Le followed his gaze and saw a man standing there.

***

Three men sat inside the recovery room, each with a cup of Longjing tea in front of them.

Do-Jun took a sip from the delicate, high-end porcelain cup, his eyes drifting toward the meticulously designed garden outside. The scenery, with its classical elegance, was a feast for the eyes. Meanwhile, Guang Le and Yao Ping shifted uncomfortably in their seats as if sitting on a bed of thorns. They kept stealing glances at Do-Jun, gauging his mood.

Watching them, Do-Jun let out a sigh before breaking into a slight chuckle. “If you’re still anxious about the Spiritwood Grass incident, you can stop worrying about it. It’s already in the past.”

“We have no words,” the two men responded, bowing deeply in apology.

Of the two, Guang Le looked especially uneasy. Every time Do-Jun reached for his cup of tea, he flinched as if fighting the instinct to recoil in fear. It was no surprise, considering he had met his end under Do-Jun’s Frost Demon Palm back on the fifth of the Core.

He remembers.

That was Do-Jun’s conclusion, looking at Guang Le’s behavior.

He definitely recognized Do-Jun. Unlike Yao Ping, whom Do-Jun had personally recruited, Guang Le sought out the Heavenly Demon Sect on his own. When Do-Jun was in the sect, he never once crossed paths with Guang Le. Sure, they had a brief exchange in the Core, but never in the Martial World.

Testing his theory, Do-Jun said, “Guang Le, I’ve killed you once. Do you remember that?”

“Yes, I do.”

Do-Jun stroked his chin. There was no doubt about it—Guang Le retained memories of his past life. His gaze moved to Yao Ping, specifically to his wrist. If the Martial World had been absorbed into the Core, then Yao Ping must have been there too. Yet neither Yao Ping nor Guang Le had the Status Window Snake.

“Do you also remember the Core?” Do-Jun asked Yao Ping.

“Yes, I do.”

“And what about the others here?”

Yao Ping shook his head and calmly shared what he knew. “Of those still in the Martial World, only three of us—Guang Le, the head of the Sichuan Tang Clan, Tang Gak, and I—retain our memories of the Core. I investigated thoroughly upon my return. No one else remembers anything about the Core.”

Do-Jun processed this information. Tang Gak was still alive in the Martial World. Guang Le, Yao Ping, and Tang Gak—what connection did these three share?

As Do-Jun pondered, Guang Le hesitantly spoke. “Then, Heavenly Demon... Does that mean... in the Core...?”

“I did not die,” Do-Jun stated.

“Then how did you arrive here?”

It was a fair question. According to them, everyone in this world had perished in the Core. There was additional evidence to support this. Wei Zhongqi was not here. As far as Do-Jun knew, Wei Zhongqi had not yet died in the Core.

“I believe I was able to come here due to an artifact,” Do-Jun replied.

When the Interpreter’s completion rate reached eighty percent, its grade had changed from Relic of the Deep Realm to Lost Item of the Deep Realm. That shift allowed him to glimpse fragments of Encroached dimensions, and even enter them.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Do-Jun pondered something.

If someone dies in the Core, do they return to their original world?

If that was the case, were these people truly alive? Or were they, in a sense, already dead?

Regardless of the answer, one thing was clear: Guang Le and Yao Ping retained their sense of self. And not just them—the others here did too. The only difference was whether they remembered the Core or not.

Could this be related to the so-called King of the Dimensions?

Do-Jun opened his eyes.

He remembered some saying the King of “All” Dimensions. If these corrupted planets were simply being erased, there would be no need to use the word “all” at all.

He took another sip of the Longjing tea, the slight bitterness lingering on his tongue. Before he knew it, his cup was empty. Noticing this, Yao Ping reached for the teapot, intending to pour him another cup.

“No need. I have things to do,” Do-Jun said, picking up the briefcase he had placed beside him.

Before heading home, he planned to stop by the market.

At that moment, Guang Le hesitantly asked, “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Yes.” Do-Jun glanced at his wristwatch. The shorter hand pointed to seven. “I have work.”

***

Yoon-Hee woke up early to prepare breakfast. Although Do-Jun occasionally cooked in the mornings, she usually took care of breakfast unless she had to leave early for the Academy.

“Hmm, did Father already leave for work...?”

She glanced around the room and saw that his bed was empty. His briefcase and shoes were also gone. He must have already left. As she placed the finished egg soup on the dining table, she suddenly saw Do-Jun walking into the house.

“Huh? Father?”

“Oh, you’re up already?”

“Didn’t you already leave for work?”

“I was just about to go.”

“Perfect timing! Have breakfast before you leave. It’ll be ready in three minutes,” Yoon-Hee said.

“Sure. Oh, and let’s eat this too.”

“What’s that...?”

Do-Jun unwrapped the cloth bundle in his hands. Inside were large, rustic-looking dumplings.

“What are these?”

“Dumplings.”

“They look unique... handmade?”

Do-Jun said, “These are Martial Dumplings.”