What? I bring dungeon to the cultivation world!

Liam noticed the husband and wife looked like they had something to say. But he cut them off before a single word could escape their mouths. 

"Spare me the sentiment," he muttered, narrowing his eyes. "I don't want to hear it."

Brother Fu flinched, visibly taken aback, but the reaction didn't last long. 

He quickly recovered, forcing a half-laugh and flashing a strained smile.

If there was one thing he understood well, it was how Liam dealt with people, cold, curt, often merciless. 

But even beneath all that sharp edge, there was something deeper. 

A kind of buried empathy that showed itself in odd ways.

Liam's gaze swept over the pair like a blade.

"Don't feed her spiritual rice anymore, you dumb pair."

"Eh... how did you?" Brother Fu stiffened, his words cut short by Liam's tone.

Liam just shook his head in disappointment. "No wonder your daughter's body is so weak. You've been shoving spiritual rice down her throat, something meant for cultivators, not mortals. Her body can't absorb it, so it's been eating her alive from the inside. Are you that desperate, or just stupid?"

The words landed like fists. 

Brother Fu's smile vanished, replaced by the grim, hollow expression of someone who knew they'd screwed up.

He must've believed those rumors, the baseless myths that feeding spiritual rice to infants could awaken their roots. 

That belief had nearly ruined his daughter.

Then Liam's gaze shifted to the woman beside him. "And you… you just nodded along to everything he did? Why? What's your role then? Breeding?"

Her face turned pale. She lowered her head in shame, mirroring her husband's silence.

The sight was surreal, Liam, scolding two grown adults who were nearly his peers, and both bowing their heads like children.

Finally, Liam's eyes landed on the girl.

"And you…"

He stopped, turning slightly to address the parents once more.

"If you needs help, come to me. Consider it repayment for what your father did back then."

And with a simple flick of his sleeve, Liam turned and walked out. 

The door shut softly behind him, leaving the stunned family behind in heavy silence.

Brother Fu let out a slow, crooked laugh. He knew exactly what Liam meant with those last words.

His wife, still holding his hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. 

Her voice was soft, a whisper meant only for him.

"It's okay… everything's going to be okay."

"Yeah." He smiled weakly, rubbing the back of his neck. Then he pulled both her and their daughter into a tight embrace.

"I've been a foolish dad… and a foolish husband."

"But for you two" his voice cracked slightly, "I'd die without regret."

—

The scene dimmed like the fading clap of a hand, shifting to Liam's solitary figure walking into the night.

His steps were slow. The world was quiet around him.

He turned his head slightly, eyes unreadable as memories of Brother Fu's twisted chest flashed in his mind.

"And his wife, too…" he murmured.

"She's chronically ill."

"It seems... Brother Fu is the last one"

The words were soft, carried away on the night breeze as he wandered down the empty path toward home.

When he entered, darkness greeted him. He didn't bother lighting a lamp. What for?

There was nothing in the house worth illuminating. No warmth. No colors. Just walls, shadows, and silence.

He lived alone.

Always had, in both his lives.

He moved to the wooden platform just outside, sitting at the edge near the pond.

The moonlight shimmered on the water's surface, and the stars above danced in reflection.

Liam sat there quietly, staring at the sky mirrored in the still pond.

"Having a family, huh?"

His voice was barely a whisper, rough around the edges.

"I wonder… how beautiful it must be to have one."

For the rest of the night, Liam sat in silence, letting his thoughts run their course. 

His mind combed through everything he'd done today, every detail, every decision, especially the egg transformation steps.

Over and over, he retraced the sequence, refining it, dissecting it. 

His focus centered on a single goal: finding the most precise and reliable method to eventually transform the massive egg resting deep inside his storage ring.

Morning came quietly.

The first blush of sunlight crept over the horizon, casting long golden streaks across the courtyard.

Liam stepped out from his room with a lazy stretch, walking barefoot across the cool floor. 

He made his way to the reclining chair by the pond and dropped into it with a quiet exhale.

His eyes scanned the rippling surface for a moment, then he lifted his hand.

A flick of his wrist, and the materials from last night spilled out of his storage ring, stacking neatly into a modest hill beside him.

He studied the pile, identifying each component with a casual glance before rolling up his sleeves and getting to work.

Puppet crafting.

Not for power. Not for necessity. Just for experience.

He needed more of it. That was all.

Each piece he shaped and fused, he did so methodically, pausing every now and then to think through each step. 

Sometimes, his eyes would drift from his work, drawn to the reflection of the clouds above the pond's surface. 

Other times, he'd pace slowly toward the tree in the courtyard, hands tucked behind his back, watching its leaves tremble in the breeze.

That was how he spent his days.

No rush, no distraction, just a steady, quiet focus.

And so the days passed, one folding into the next like the turning of a page, until the end of the month crept in unnoticed.

By then, Liam finally felt prepared.

Tonight, he would attempt to transform the last two eggs.

If he failed again, he'd have no choice but to source more before even thinking about touching the rare giant egg that waited inside his storage bag.

Night fell softly.

A chill hung in the air, and Liam reclined on his chair once more, eyes tilted to the sky as he breathed in the scent of the night wind.

The pond reflected the stars like scattered diamonds, and somewhere in the distance, the rustle of leaves hummed a gentle rhythm.

Then, with a breath, he raised his hand.

The last two eggs floated into the air, glowing faintly under his careful control. 

Their smooth shells shimmered under the moonlight, suspended midair by a cocoon of golden spiritual energy. 

"If these fail…" he murmured, his voice quiet, "I'll train another month. If the next month fails, I'll go for a year."

"I refuse to believe I can't achieve it with enough effort."

His breath fogged briefly in the cold air as he closed his eyes and channeled his energy.

The transformation process began again.

The golden Qi wrapped the first egg delicately, like hands cradling glass. 

Slowly, it seeped into the shell, each movement meticulous and precise.

Then came the threads, thin golden strands of energy threading themselves into the embryo like threads weaving into silk.

One… two… ten… more.

By the time the hundredth strand sank in, Liam felt it.

A shift.

And then.

[Ding. A new species has been successfully transformed.]

[The database has been updated. The host may now summon this monster from the pocket space into the dungeon at any time.]

Liam let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Finally."

Relief washed over his features, subtle but unmistakable.

But he didn't linger in it.

Without pause, he turned to the second egg and initiated the same process.

Golden Qi surrounded the shell once more, the same delicate care, add in with the same unwavering focus. 

[Same species detected. Cannot be transformed.]

Liam's brows lifted slightly.

"I see…"

So if he tried to transform another egg of the same species, the system wouldn't register it.

That meant only one of each monster type was viable for use in his dungeon?

He wasn't sure yet.

But that was a mystery for another day.

Tonight, he'd take the win.

And finally, it was time.

The project Liam had been waiting on for a full month. 

The one that had sat buried deep in the back of his thoughts like a quiet obsession.

Whether it succeeded or failed would shape his next path forward. Or so it felt.

Not that he'd crumble if it didn't work out.

Worst case? He'd have to spend more time digging through distant markets, hunting for another rare egg that might contain a sliver of potential. 

But still, he needed strength. 

Qi Refining Realm wasn't going to cut it anymore. Foundation realm... 

The dreams that many Qi Refining monks craved for.

With a slow exhale, Liam reached into his storage bag and pulled it out, the massive egg that had taken up space in his thoughts for weeks.

Its dull, stone-like luster didn't glow with vitality. 

No gentle warmth pulsed from within. Its surface was cold, matte, and heavy. 

By all appearances, the embryo inside was already dead.

Dead weight.

But even that didn't matter.

Liam squinted at the egg, eyes narrowed with thought.

Question: Does the condition of the egg matter more? Or the state of the embryo?

Answer: Neither.

That was the breakthrough he'd come to understand. The real deciding factor wasn't the vessel, it was the hand that shaped it.

His hand.

The golden energy wasn't some miraculous healer. It wasn't meant to restore life or repair broken things. 

That had never been the point.

Its function was to transform.

It was a loophole. A brilliant exploit of the system itself. Dead or alive, the egg didn't matter. 

Only his mastery did.

The egg rose into the air with a slow, deliberate motion, swathed in the soft glow of golden energy. 

Threads of light curled around it, gentle and fluid like silk underwater. Liam's fingers twitched subtly, guiding every strand.

Over the past month, his mastery had evolved. Hours of puppet crafting had honed his touch. Made him sharper, steadier. More precise.

The egg hung there, silently rotating midair.

A full minute passed.

Then two.

The golden light penetrated the thick shell, seeping through the dense layers until it found the dead embryo within. 

And then, ever so delicately, it wrapped around it.

No resistance nor rejection.

Due to the sheer size of the egg, the process wasn't as finicky this time, but it demanded far more power. 

Dozens, then hundreds of golden threads reached out, weaving through the still form inside like the fingers of a god sculpting clay.

Liam remained focused, the glow of the energy painting his face in soft hues.

One strand at a time.

No rush.

The egg turned slowly, methodically, while Liam's expression never shifted.

Minutes dragged on. Then more. The work was quiet, intricate.

And finally, he felt it.

A pull in the threads like something responding on the other end.

The air shifted slightly, just enough to brush against his cheek.

Liam's lips curved into a quiet smile.

"This is it."