Elsewhere—
within a separate layer of the dream—
an endless white expanse stretched beyond all limits.
There was no sky.
No earth.
No horizon.
No sound.
Only absolute silence.
At the center of that endless void—
the small white-scaled lizard floated alone.
His golden eyes remained closed.
Yet his thoughts moved with astonishing speed.
*The time acceleration remains unchanged...*
Despite merging two dream layers into a single shared space—
the flow of time had not changed.
The ratio remained exactly as before.
Three hours within the dream...
For every single minute that passed outside.
Lizarius quietly analyzed the outcome.
*Interesting.*
He had expected instability.
Perhaps even a reduction in temporal acceleration.
Instead—
the dream had maintained the exact same degree of temporal distortion.
Which led him to another conclusion.
*If one subconscious mind can sustain this degree of acceleration...*
*Then two subconscious minds should possess a greater capacity.*
His eyes slowly opened.
*The burden is now divided.*
No longer did a single dream shoulder the entire strain.
Two subconscious minds now supported the same dream framework.
If his hypothesis was correct—
that additional stability could be converted into something else.
More acceleration.
The idea took shape almost instantly.
He did not hesitate.
His Soul Perception expanded.
The endless white expanse rippled.
Countless invisible threads gradually emerged from every direction.
Each represented the natural flow of subconscious processing.
Mental activity.
Dream generation.
Temporal stability.
Previously—
he had merely synchronized himself with that flow.
Now—
he intended to reshape it.
Carefully.
Methodically.
Incrementally.
He began reconstructing the temporal framework itself.
The dream shuddered.
A faint vibration spread throughout the endless white world.
Not violently.
Almost gently.
Like the subtle change in rhythm of a beating heart.
Lizarius observed every fluctuation.
Every shift.
Every response.
No instability.
Good.
He continued.
Layer by layer—
he compressed the dream's perception of time.
Not through brute force—
but by redistributing the subconscious burden between the two connected minds.
One dream sustained part of the structure.
The second sustained the remainder.
Each bore less weight than before.
The temporal framework responded immediately.
The invisible current accelerated.
Slightly.
Then further.
Then further still.
The white expanse shimmered faintly around him.
His golden eyes narrowed.
*Continue...*
Soul power steadily flowed into the framework.
Minute adjustments.
Thousands upon thousands of microscopic corrections.
Each one precise.
Each one carefully measured.
Never allowing the dream to approach instability.
Time passed.
Or rather—
it became increasingly difficult to define exactly what "time" even meant within the dream.
Eventually—
the distortion stabilized.
The rippling ceased.
The endless white world became perfectly still once more.
Lizarius remained motionless.
Observing.
Calculating.
Evaluating every result.
Silence lingered.
Then—
he spoke inwardly.
*Report.*
The system responded immediately.
---
**[Dream Framework Recalibrated.]**
**[Temporal Compression Successfully Increased.]**
---
**[Previous Ratio:]**
**[1 Minute Outside = 3 Hours Inside.]**
---
**[Current Ratio:]**
**[1 Minute Outside = 5 Hours 47 Minutes Inside.]**
---
**[Overall Temporal Acceleration: +92.8%]**
---
**[Warning.]**
**[Further temporal compression will significantly increase the strain upon connected subconscious structures.]**
**[Current configuration has reached its recommended operational limit.]**
---
Lizarius silently contemplated the report.
Nearly double.
Not quite—
but remarkably close.
His calculations had been largely correct.
Sharing the dream between two subconscious minds had dramatically increased the amount of temporal distortion the framework could safely sustain.
His tail flicked once.
*Interesting.*
His thoughts immediately moved beyond the experiment itself.
*If two subconscious minds can sustain this...*
*Then what of ten?*
*A hundred?*
*A thousand?*
The endless white expanse offered no answer.
The experiment had resolved one question—
only to create countless more.
Silence reclaimed the dream.
No sound.
No movement.
Only the quiet pulse of the dream itself.
Lizarius floated alone within the infinite white world.
Gradually—
his thoughts drifted away from temporal acceleration.
The experiment had succeeded.
For now—
there was little more to gain from pursuing it further.
Instead—
his attention turned toward another problem.
One that had remained unresolved ever since his awakening.
*Human techniques...*
His golden eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
Before obtaining the ability to enter dreams—
he had believed such a thing to be impossible.
He possessed the memories.
He possessed the understanding.
He could reconstruct every movement with flawless accuracy.
He could visualize every stance.
Every circulation of spiritual energy.
Every application.
Yet—
he could never truly perform them.
Not because he lacked comprehension.
But because he was not human.
He possessed no human body.
No human meridians.
No human spiritual pathways.
A beast remained a beast.
Even after reaching the Golden Core Realm—
that fundamental truth had never changed.
He had long since accepted that conclusion.
Until now.
His gaze swept slowly across the endless white world.
*This place is different.*
The dream did not distinguish between reality and possibility.
Within this world—
he could become human.
Not merely imitate one.
Not merely assume a disguise.
The dream reconstructed everything.
Bones.
Muscles.
Meridians.
Organs.
Blood.
Nerves.
Even the faintest pathways through which spiritual energy flowed.
Everything behaved exactly according to the rules he established.
His thoughts became increasingly clear.
*Previously...*
*I could only observe.*
*Now...*
*I can experience.*
There was an immeasurable difference.
Watching another person execute a technique...
And personally feeling every movement.
Every breath.
Every contraction of muscle.
Every circulation of spiritual energy.
Every microscopic adjustment.
Those were entirely different forms of learning.
His golden eyes brightened faintly.
*Then I no longer need imagination.*
*I only need simulation.*
A perfect simulation.
Repeated endlessly.
Repeated until every movement became instinct itself.
If he mastered a technique within a dream body...
Then that understanding would belong to his soul.
Whether his true body could reproduce it afterward—
remained unknown.
But the knowledge itself would unquestionably remain.
That alone made the experiment worthwhile.
His conclusion settled.
Without another thought—
his body began to change.
White scales dissolved into countless drifting particles of light.
His elongated body gradually shortened.
His limbs lengthened.
His claws reshaped into slender fingers.
His spine straightened.
Moments later—
the familiar young man stood where the lizard had once floated.
Dark hair.
Simple black clothing.
Loose black trousers.
Strange sandals.
Golden eyes that reflected endless calm.
He slowly opened and closed his hands.
Feeling the joints move.
The tendons tighten.
The subtle shifts in balance beneath his feet.
He flexed each finger individually.
Then rotated his wrist.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
This was not merely an illusion of appearance.
Every sensation felt complete.
Every movement produced perfectly natural feedback.
He slowly drew a breath.
Even the expansion of his lungs...
The rhythmic beating of his heart...
The circulation of spiritual energy through human meridians...
Everything felt flawlessly authentic.
He lowered his gaze toward his palm.
*If the dream can perfectly reproduce the human body...*
*Then it should also reproduce the entire process of learning.*
His expression remained calm.
Yet his thoughts had already reached another conclusion.
This dream realm...
Was no longer merely a place for observation.
Nor simply a place for experimentation.
It had become a training ground.
A place where reality's limitations no longer existed.
A place where failure carried little consequence.
A place where techniques could be practiced endlessly.
Repeated.
Refined.
Perfected.
Until they became inseparable from his very soul.
The young man slowly clenched his fist.
His golden eyes reflected the infinite white horizon.
"...Let's begin."
The dream trembled softly.
Around him—
countless weapons gradually materialized.
Swords.
Spears.
Sabers.
Halberds.
Axes.
Staffs.
Daggers.
Bows.
Each hovered silently within the endless white world.
Waiting.
Not for imagination.
But for practice.
---
### Three Months Later
The endless white world remained unchanged.
Silent.
Boundless.
Timeless.
Nothing existed there except an infinite horizon—
and a lone white-scaled lizard.
Lizarius floated motionlessly within the void.
His small body had long since returned to its original form.
His golden eyes remained fixed upon the endless distance.
For three months—
he had done little besides train.
Again.
And again.
And again.
The dream had become an endless training hall.
A place where every remembered technique could be perfectly reconstructed.
Every movement repeated.
Every flaw corrected.
Every principle dissected and understood.
Anything he had ever witnessed—
whether from beasts...
Cultivators...
Ancient memories...
Or countless dream simulations—
had been recreated with painstaking precision.
He no longer merely observed them.
He experienced them.
Understood them.
Mastered them.
Countless human bodies had been created.
And discarded.
Thousands upon thousands of battles had been fought.
Millions of individual movements had been repeated until they no longer required conscious thought.
They had become instinct.
Now—
it was finally time to verify the results.
The small lizard slowly raised one forepaw.
A single claw extended.
He pointed toward the endless horizon.
Silence.
His claw moved.
Slowly.
Almost lazily.
Tracing a perfectly straight line through empty space.
Thin.
Silent.
Invisible.
For a single heartbeat—
nothing happened.
Then—
**SHHHK.**
The dream split apart.
A flawless vertical fissure appeared before him.
There was no explosion.
No violent eruption of spiritual energy.
No dazzling display of power.
Only—
a cut.
The endless white world separated cleanly along the line his claw had traced.
The fracture stretched farther and farther.
Beyond sight.
Beyond the horizon itself.
Even after his movement had ended—
the tear remained.
Perfectly smooth.
Perfectly straight.
As though reality itself had been sliced in two.
Several long moments later—
the two halves gradually drifted back together.
The wound in space slowly closed.
The fissure vanished without leaving the slightest trace.
Silence returned.
Lizarius quietly observed the result.
His expression remained unchanged.
"...Hm."
"It works."
His golden eyes remained fixed upon the place where the tear had disappeared.
For three months—
he had relentlessly simulated every detail of the technique.
Every adjustment of force.
Every circulation of spiritual energy.
Every minute movement of the body.
Every subtle shift in intent.
Until there was nothing left to refine.
Only then—
had he attempted to execute it using his true body.
The result...
Exceeded even his own expectations.
The technique had not remained confined to the dream's human form.
The understanding had transferred completely.
Not the muscles.
Not the physique.
Not the human anatomy.
But the principle itself.
And principles...
Transcended form.
His claw slowly lowered.
*So my hypothesis was correct.*
*A technique mastered within the dream becomes knowledge engraved upon the soul.*
*Once the principle is truly understood...*
*The body merely adapts its execution.*
That discovery alone had made the past three months worthwhile.
It meant the greatest limitation he had believed himself bound by...
No longer existed.
He no longer required a permanent human body to learn human arts.
He only needed one—
temporarily.
Within the dream.
His thoughts drifted across the countless techniques he had mastered.
Sword arts.
Movement techniques.
Breathing methods.
Energy circulation techniques.
Control exercises.
Methods of force application.
Combat instincts.
Each had been dismantled to its most fundamental principles.
Then reconstructed.
Adapted.
Refined.
Perfectly suited to the strengths of his own body.
He had not become a human swordsman.
Nor had he become a human cultivator.
He remained a beast.
Yet the techniques no longer belonged exclusively to humanity.
They had become his own.
Rebuilt.
Adapted.
Perfected.
The small white-scaled lizard quietly lowered his gaze toward his claw.
A faint ripple of spiritual energy shimmered around its tip before fading into nothingness.
"...Interesting."
His calm voice echoed softly throughout the endless dream.
"So..."
"This..."
"...is what it truly means..."
"...to learn."