Dyon's mind slowly churned.
If one compared the state this hidden world core space was in now compared to 15 years ago, it would be easy to realize that it was now even more dangerous and violent, the exact opposite of what Dyon had been going for.
However, Dyon didn't seem to have much of a reaction to this. He quietly floated through the miasma of hot gases, his skin and flesh being eaten away at, without so much as a change in expression.
This was maybe the most difficult thing Dyon had to do in his life. Not only was the Dark Flame bubble world's core far more powerful than that of the desert bubble world, but in order to balance is, Dyon needed to tread a path of his martial way he was never really fond of.
The way of this Dark Flame world was far more in line with Dyon's tendencies. Darkness… fire… emotions of rage, arrogance, oppressiveness…
However, if he wanted to balance this world core out with his own creation, he needed to be the opposite of these things. He had to tend toward the light, to dive into the world of water and ice, to tap into emotions of love, calmness, and humility.
Maybe if it was a world with a different tendency, Dyon would have already succeeded. But, even on the 20th year, Dyon still floated through the 8th tier, his progress as slow as an ant's.
**
The mood of the retired Patriarch had become steadily worse over the past several years. No one had seen his innocent smile in just as long and he seemed to have aged countless years in such a short span of time.
His gaze seemed clouded by a perpetual red. Even his own granddaughter couldn't bear being in the same room as him for too long.
"If I knew this would happen, I would have killed that boy the moment I laid eyes on him!" Patriarch Nightwell grit his teeth.
He and his wife sat in their room, a bed that hadn't been used in centuries a distance from the round table they sat around.
They both held gloomy expressions. Their Nightwell Clan should have been happy after securing control of the world core for another ten million years. But, the atmosphere felt as though they had lost.
To be outmaneuvered by a mortal was a hard pill to swallow. It made it worse that they had this very mortal to thank for the victory that they should be enjoying. He gave them happiness, and he snatched it away as though he was the Immortal and they were the mortals.
If that wasn't already bad enough, their daughter seemed to very clearly be on his side.
"Have we really not found him yet?"
"He must have used some profound camouflage technique. Even after going through all of the teleportations in the last 15 years, we haven't found anything that matched him.
"We had to start going through them one by one, checking for odd energy fluctuations. That alone took three years, but we still didn't find anything. So, we had to broaden the range of the search, checking for shipments with high energy fluctuations and vitality that might fall into the range of humans.
"There were easily thousands of times that number in comparison to simple teleportations, so even now we haven't found a thing even 15 years later. It's a complete embarrassment. The old man even killed some of our most loyal guards in his rage."
"Forget it, he won't be able to hide eventually." Mistress Nigthwell's visage twisted with killing intent. "He'll eventually fall and then my baby can clear her mind of such nonsense. If this little mortal impedes the path of her Dao Heart… I'll tear him to shreds no matter what the consequences!"
"We don't have time to deal with this any longer. The youths who participated in the final three rounds and performed well enough to enter the world core trial have almost finished healing from their wounds. We need to appropriately accommodate them or else they will look down on our Nightwell Clan."
Though they controlled the world core, they still had the obligation to share some of its benefits with others. The youths that placed in the top 3 of each Clan were allowed to enter the world core to temper their daos and earn the embroidery on their robes. They couldn't allow the gloomy atmosphere of their Nightwell Mansion to be exposed in such a way, or it would impact their prestige.
Even if it didn't have immediate effects, down the road it could become a weakness their enemies could grasp.
"Are they coming as well?" Mistress Nightwell retracted her murderous gaze, replacing it with a hint of apprehension.
"They always will. We are not powerful enough to stop them, so we must acquiesce."
"Sharing the truths of our world core with outsiders has never sat right with me. And, they will take the opportunity to harass our little girl as well. I won't hold back my temper if I see such shamelessness again!"
"Just endure." Patriarch Nightwell said plainly. "If father breaks through, we'll have some leeway. Even if he doesn't, Little Crystella will definitely succeed in breaking down that barrier one day. This won't be the state of affairs forever. The Nightwell Clan will reclaim our Well Ancestor's pride."
...
"… Did we hear you clearly, Tier 3 General Tovias…?"
"I don't like repeating myself. There's been a draft for this Star Segment. The Spiritual Sages have predicted a Surge is coming. Your Dark Flame bubble world will take part in this.
"The draft list has already been sent to you in advance. It was taken directly from only those who have registered to the Void Army. This is part of the job."
Patriarch Nightwell's expression turned downcast.
He had been preparing to receive youths from a rival bubble world just today, but he had never expected that their arrival to come with this sort of news.
