The dream space fell silent.
Artificial wind swept across the endless grasslands, stirring waves through the sea of emerald grass beneath a pale, fabricated sky.
Ling Yue remained bowed.
Her head lowered.
Her hands clasped tightly before her.
"...Senior, I'm sorry."
Her voice carried genuine regret.
"I truly cannot learn that technique."
The dark-haired young man simply looked at her.
His expression remained unchanged.
Golden eyes calm and unreadable.
"...Why?"
Ling Yue blinked.
Slowly, she raised her head.
"Because..."
She hesitated.
Searching for the right words.
Then she finally spoke.
"That technique is far beyond me."
Silence.
The lizard continued staring.
Ling Yue suddenly felt as though they were speaking entirely different languages.
She hurriedly elaborated.
"Senior, that sword formation contained dozens of simultaneous sword qi manifestations."
"It requires extraordinary spiritual control."
"A massive reserve of spiritual energy."
"Advanced sword intent."
"Complex spiritual manipulation."
She pointed toward the place where the floating swords had appeared earlier.
"Most Spirit Refining cultivators can't even release sword qi."
"Let alone control twenty swords simultaneously."
The lizard listened quietly.
Then asked,
"So?"
Ling Yue froze.
"...What?"
His expression remained completely blank.
"So?"
The young woman stared at him.
For several moments.
Then a horrifying realization slowly dawned on her.
He genuinely didn't understand.
He wasn't pretending.
He wasn't testing her.
He truly didn't understand the problem.
Ling Yue carefully organized her thoughts.
"Senior."
She pointed toward herself.
"I am only a Fourth Stage Spirit Refining cultivator."
Then she pointed toward where the vanished sword formation had once hovered.
"That technique feels like something even a Foundation Establishment cultivator would struggle to master."
She hesitated.
Then added quietly,
"Much less someone at Spirit Refining."
Silence.
For the first time, the lizard appeared thoughtful.
*Ah.*
Now he understood.
The issue wasn't comprehension.
The issue was cultivation.
To him, the technique had seemed simple.
Not because he possessed exceptional swordsmanship.
But because he had unconsciously viewed everything through the lens of a Golden Core existence.
Golden Core perception.
Golden Core control.
Golden Core reserves.
Golden Core instincts refined through countless inherited bloodlines and centuries of accumulated experience.
Without realizing it, he had demonstrated the technique using a Golden Core foundation.
For Ling Yue—
it was no different from asking a child to lift a mountain.
The realization settled.
Then another thought followed.
*Interesting.*
Cultivation realms didn't merely determine strength.
They determined capability.
They defined what one could perceive.
What one could understand.
What one could learn.
The young man glanced toward Ling Yue.
"You mean your cultivation cannot support it."
Ling Yue immediately nodded.
"Yes."
Then paused.
"Well..."
She hesitated.
"Not just my cultivation."
"My body."
"My spiritual energy."
"My control."
"My understanding."
"Everything."
The lizard considered her words.
Then asked,
"If you possessed sufficient spiritual control, could you learn it?"
Ling Yue thought for a moment.
"...Eventually."
"Perhaps."
She looked slightly embarrassed.
"After many years."
A brief pause.
Then she added,
"Maybe."
The grasslands fell silent once more.
Then—
the lizard suddenly raised a hand.
The surrounding dream world trembled.
WHOOM.
A mountain appeared.
Towering into the sky.
Then vanished.
A vast lake emerged.
Its crystal waters stretching to the horizon.
Then disappeared.
Entire forests materialized.
Ancient trees rose from the earth.
Only to dissolve into countless particles of light moments later.
Reality itself shifted like flowing water.
Ling Yue watched nervously.
Then the lizard spoke.
"Then the problem is not the technique."
"...What?"
"The problem is the number of requirements."
He gazed toward the distant horizon.
"Control."
"Spiritual reserves."
"Perception."
"Experience."
"Understanding."
One finger tapped lightly against his arm.
"So remove them."
Ling Yue stared.
"...Remove them?"
The lizard nodded.
"As many as possible."
The dream world gradually fell silent.
Ling Yue stood quietly nearby.
Not daring to interrupt.
Because the moment the lizard finished speaking—
he had completely ignored her.
Again.
His golden eyes became unfocused.
His attention turning inward.
Analyzing.
Calculating.
Reconstructing.
Within his mind, the sword formation replayed itself countless times.
Every spiritual pathway.
Every movement.
Every fluctuation.
Every requirement.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Then—
he began dismantling it.
Not physically.
Conceptually.
Piece by piece.
Like a craftsman disassembling a complex machine.
The complete sword formation vanished.
Leaving behind only its foundations.
The first sword.
Then the method used to condense it.
Then the spiritual pathways responsible for its manifestation.
Then the control mechanisms.
Then the release structure.
Everything separated.
Everything simplified.
Hours passed.
The timer crossing the sky never ceased its steady march forward.
Ling Yue practiced quietly in the distance.
Occasionally glancing toward the motionless figure.
Yet the lizard never moved.
Never spoke.
His mind continued working relentlessly.
---
*Problem One.*
*Insufficient spiritual reserves.*
Removed.
A Spirit Refining cultivator did not require multiple swords.
One was enough.
---
*Problem Two.*
*Insufficient control.*
Modified.
The sword would no longer require continuous manipulation.
Only initial guidance.
---
*Problem Three.*
*Lack of sword intent.*
Removed entirely.
Rather than relying upon sword intent, the technique would depend upon spiritual compression.
---
The technique continued changing.
Refining.
Simplifying.
Transforming.
Until eventually—
very little of the original remained.
The foundation was still there.
The core principles still existed.
But everything else had changed.
It no longer resembled a sword formation.
It no longer resembled a Golden Core technique.
It no longer even resembled a Foundation Establishment art.
It had become something entirely different.
A technique born from simplification.
A Spirit Refining technique inspired by a far greater one.
---
Several more hours passed.
Then suddenly—
the lizard's eyes focused once more.
He moved.
Ling Yue immediately noticed.
The young woman hurried over.
"Senior?"
The dark-haired young man looked toward her.
Then raised a hand.
A sword materialized.
This time—
only one.
No floating formations.
No dozens of blades.
No overwhelming pressure.
No terrifying fluctuations.
Just a single ordinary sword.
Ling Yue blinked.
The lizard examined it.
Then nodded.
"Hm."
He swung.
SHING.
A pale strand of spiritual energy detached from the blade.
Gliding silently through the air.
Twenty meters.
Thirty.
Forty.
Before gradually dispersing.
The attack was neither particularly powerful nor particularly fast.
Yet Ling Yue's eyes widened.
The lizard watched the fading strand of spiritual energy.
Then nodded once more.
"Good."
To him—
it truly was simple.
To Ling Yue—
it was astonishing.
Because what stood before her was not merely a technique.
It was something she had just witnessed being born.
A powerful art dismantled and rebuilt from the ground up.
Created specifically for someone at her level.
The realization sent a tingling sensation racing across her scalp.
The lizard didn't seem to understand why.
His attention had already begun drifting elsewhere.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Experimenting.
Because a new thought had emerged.
If techniques could be simplified—
Could bloodline abilities be simplified as well?
And if they could—
What else could be dismantled and rebuilt?
Meanwhile—
Ling Yue gripped the sword tightly.
Her eyes shone with excitement.
For the first time since entering the dream realm—
she wasn't looking at the ancient monster floating before her.
She was looking at a path she had never imagined possible.
The lizard looked toward her.
"Can you control one?"
Ling Yue hesitated.
Then nodded slowly.
"...Possibly."
The lizard nodded.
"Good."
Then another sword appeared.
Smaller.
Simpler.
Cruder.
Its spiritual structure became visible.
Layers separated.
Connections exposed.
Energy pathways revealed.
Ling Yue's eyes widened.
Because it no longer resembled a finished technique.
It resembled a lesson.
A blueprint.
A guide.
The young man folded his arms.
"Strange."
Ling Yue blinked.
"...Senior?"
"You see a mountain and decide it is impossible."
His golden eyes shifted toward her.
"I merely showed you the summit."
Silence.
Then he pointed toward the floating sword.
"Start with the first step."
Ling Yue stared.
The words struck far harder than she expected.
Because for nearly three months—
she had done exactly that.
Refining the same techniques.
Improving little by little.
Advancing one step at a time.
Yet the moment she witnessed something vastly beyond her current abilities—
her first instinct had been surrender.
The lizard seemed completely incapable of understanding why.
To him—
everything was merely a collection of smaller parts.
Learn one.
Then another.
Then another.
Eventually—
the impossible became ordinary.
The dream space remained silent.
Ling Yue slowly looked toward the floating sword.
Then back toward the lizard.
Then toward the sword once more.
A strange expression appeared on her face.
Half embarrassment.
Half determination.
Finally—
she bowed deeply.
"This junior understands."
The lizard blinked.
Satisfied.
Then immediately lost interest.
His attention drifting elsewhere.
Back toward experimentation.
Back toward dreams.
Back toward understanding the strange world of souls, consciousness, and subconscious realms.
Meanwhile—
Ling Yue remained standing before the floating sword.
Staring at it silently.
For the first time since entering the dream realm—
she realized something.
The terrifying ancient monster might actually be a worse teacher than anyone she had ever met.
Because he genuinely possessed no concept whatsoever of what ordinary cultivators considered difficult.