In the deepest strata of the Meteor Mine, the iron-blue rock formations seemed to writhe and pulsate like the living veins of an ancient god. Two weeks of cold, creeping terror had been enough to make the Simon family extraordinarily generous. After Del’s "Blood-Boiling Lucidity Potion" proved to be ten times more stable and potent than anything the Morey family could provide, the old Mine Governor, Simon, had personally dispatched a heavily guarded team to deliver a lead-sealed, iron-bound wooden casket.

  Inside that casket lay the prize Del had mockingly referred to as a "useless analgesic stone"—a raw chunk of Obsidian Gold.

  It was a nightmare in physical form: pitch black, refusing to reflect even the faintest glimmer of light. Its surface shimmered with deep purple veins that flowed like liquid metal under the skin of the rock. The moment Del’s trembling fingers brushed against its cold, jagged edge, the long-dried cracks in his Dantian—his very foundation of power—let out a silent, predatory roar like a starving wolf catching the scent of fresh blood.

  "Chip, seal the laboratory. Engage the 'Camouflage Exhaustion' field. Block all external magical resonance," Del commanded, his eyes burning with a dark, feverish intensity.

  [Directive Confirmed. High-purity ethereal medium detected: Raw Obsidian Gold. Compatibility Rating: 99.7%. Reconstruction Plan: Initialized. Estimated duration: 15 days and nights. Warning: During the reconstruction phase, the Host will lose 80% of external combat capability. All Black Sand Qi will flow inward to repair and reweave the shattered meridians. The Host will be at his most vulnerable.]

  Del took a deep breath, a cold, fanatical calm settling over his pale features. He knew that the next fifteen days would be the most perilous of his life. He was a spider retreating into its web to shed its skin, and in the world of the mine, any predator could choose this moment to strike.

  High above in the luxurious viewing boxes of the Central District, the air was thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and fear. Vivian sat on a velvet divan, her fingers nervously twisting and kneading a silk handkerchief until the fine fabric began to tear. Ever since that night in the North District—ever since she had felt that fleeting, soul-crushing intent of absolute 'Death'—she had been plagued by nightmares. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw a colossal black Buddha sitting atop a mountain of bleached white bones, looking down at her with eyes of void.

  That fear was a splinter in her soul, festering and growing with every passing hour.

  "He’s just a cripple... Master Ian said his Dantian was utterly pulverized," Vivian muttered to her reflection in the gilded mirror, her voice trembling. "Then why do I feel like he is laughing at us? He is devouring those toxic ores... he is becoming... something other than human."

  Just then, the hidden door to the box creaked open. A man wrapped in a tattered grey cloak stepped into the light. He was gaunt and withered, looking more like a piece of dead wood than a living being. He was Cooch, the "Shadow Blade"—a peak-level Low-Tier assassin and a death-sworn servant of the Morey Family.

  "Lady Vivian, Lord Morey is extremely displeased with the Simon Family’s new 'miracle potion,'" Cooch rasped, his voice sounding like rusted iron plates grinding together.

  Vivian’s eyes turned cold. Her inherent spite and paranoia, fueled by her fear of Del, finally boiled over. "If he is displeased, then go and remove the source of that displeasure. Del is in the deepest cave of the North District. He is currently in a state of extreme collapse due to a 'failed experiment.' My father has been blinded by his greed for the potion, but I will not have a ticking time bomb—a madman who could turn on us at any moment—staying in this mine."

  She didn't just want to serve the Moreys; she wanted to see for herself if Del was a dragon or a worm. If he was truly "reconstructing" himself, now was the perfect moment to wrap her fingers around his throat and squeeze.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  "I will bring back his head," Cooch whispered, "or those alchemical hands of his." He melted into the shadows, vanishing as if he had never existed.

  Reconstruction: Day 7.

  Outside Del’s laboratory, the purple mineral toxins had condensed into a thick, syrupy liquid that dripped slowly from the iron-bound stone door. Inside, the heat was stifling. Del sat stripped to the waist, perched atop the jagged Obsidian Gold. Black silken threads of energy were spreading across his skin, following the lines of his muscles like a map of veins. Starting from the jagged scar on his abdomen, a dense web of energy was being forcibly woven through his insides—a completely new, translucent black meridian system.

  "Chip, synchronize progress report," Del thought, his teeth clenched so hard they groaned.

  [Foundation Analysis: 52%. Meridian Reconstruction: 48%. Pain Suppression: Active at maximum threshold. Warning: The Host’s neural pressure has reached critical levels. Please maintain consciousness at all costs. If the mind slips, the energy will collapse and incinerate the Host from within.]

  Del’s body shook with violent tremors. It was the agony of having his skeleton disassembled and reassembled, bone by bone. In the rules of this world, a shattered Dantian meant a permanent end to one's path. But Del was using the Black Sand Qi and the Obsidian Gold to forcibly create a "universe" out of nothingness. That ancient, primordial intent—designed to devour all things—was growing like a weed in the darkness of the pit.

  Reconstruction: Day 14. Midnight.

  A chilling, murderous silence hung over the North District. Cooch, the Shadow Blade, moved like a weightless wisp of smoke. He bypassed every rusted detection array and every slumbering guard with ease, eventually appearing atop the jagged rock ledge overlooking Del’s cave.

  He peered down. Through the dim light of a dying oil lamp, he saw Del curled up on a stone bed. Del’s breathing was so faint it had nearly stopped, and the floor around him was littered with broken ore fragments and failed potion bottles. He looked pathetic—a fallen genius dying in the filth of his own making.

  Just a bluffing alchemist after all, Cooch thought with a silent sneer. He drew a blackened, poisoned dagger from his belt. His body coiled like a spring, and then he launched himself downward like a diving hawk, aiming straight for Del’s heart.

  However, just as the tip of the dagger was three inches from Del’s skin—the impossible happened.

  The stagnant purple mist in the cavern suddenly froze. Every floating dust mote, every drop of moisture, and the very air itself seemed to turn into solid lead. Del didn't even move from his bed. But the "shattered" void in his abdomen, which had been camouflaged as a wound for weeks, suddenly pulsed like a collapsing star.

  [Alert: Reconstruction progress 99%... 100%! Black Buddha Origin Level 1: 【Siphon Seed】 complete. Current Status: Extremely Famished.]

  Del’s eyes snapped open. They were not the eyes of a human being. They were two bottomless, swirling vortices of black sand, reflecting a hunger that spanned aeons.

  "Since you’ve come all this way..." Del whispered, his voice resonating with a terrifying, hollow power. "You shall be my first sacrifice."

  Del didn't even turn his head. He simply raised his left hand, spreading his fingers, and pressed down against the empty air.

  【Black Buddha Art: Absolute Truth - Return to Dust】

  In this strike, he didn't even use the strength of his muscles. Under Cooch’s horrified gaze, the air around him solidified, then began to violently collapse toward a single point. His proud shadow-stepping technique, his Low-Tier Combat Qi, and even his refined steel dagger—everything shattered like fragile glass the moment it touched the one-meter radius around Del.

  "No... This is impossible! You are—!"

  Cooch couldn't even finish his scream. His body turned into a distorted, blurry shadow in mid-air, and then, like a painting being torn to shreds, he was sucked directly into the dark vortex pulsing from Del’s abdomen.

  Thump.

  Flesh, bone, and soul—all were instantly assimilated, compressed, and fed into the newly repaired meridians. The energy of a peak-level assassin was nothing more than a nutrient supplement to the Black Buddha.

  Del stood up. The grey, deathly pallor of his skin vanished, replaced by a translucent, black-jade luster. He gripped his fist, and the air itself let out a sharp crack, as if the fabric of reality were being torn apart.

  [Chip Report: Reconstruction Complete. Stats: Strength 4.2 | Agility 4.0 | Constitution 4.5 | Spirit 5.0 Black Wind Sword: 100% Analysis Achieved. Current Camouflage: Mid-Tier Knight Peak (Currently masked as 'Gravely Injured').]

  "Vivian... it seems your concern for me has exceeded my expectations," Del said, looking toward the tunnel entrance. He could hear the faint, hurried footsteps of her reinforcements coming to check on the "assassination."

  He lay back down on the stone bed, withdrawing every ounce of his aura. Once again, he looked like nothing more than a frail, exhausted alchemist who had pushed himself too far. The trap was set, and the monster was finally awake.