Chapter 1,362 – The Seed and the Nourishing Rain

“One’s Cosmic Core is the seed, and the Cultivation Manual is the nourishing rain that makes it sprout into a world. The Cultivation Manual controls which materia is drawn from the Cosmic Sea. The better the manual’s quality, the faster the process will be,” Tavza said. “Neither Core nor manual can be lacking when aiming for a perfect outcome.”

Zac would be lying if he said he was unbothered, but he’d long since grown used to the problems mortals faced when defying their Destiny. “How does a C-grade bloodline factor into the breakthrough?”

“There are various methods that can assist the process—any proper Heritage would hold a few unique techniques or cultivation grounds. Advancing one’s Bloodline could be considered a superior external method. A C-grade Constitution naturally exerts a slight pull on the Cosmic Sea, so it can complement one’s cultivation manual,” Tavza continued to explain. “Nevertheless, external methods are just that. No matter how many you collect, they can’t replace the function of a Cultivation Manual. They’re only the crowning stroke.”

“If your manual and constitution clash, advancing it early might do more harm than good? I assume the constitution would pull materia that matches itself rather than your manual’s affinity,” Ogras asked.

“I suppose,” Tavza assented after a slight pause. “Although, I would expect anyone ready to open their Inner World to have already harmonized their path.”

“If external methods aren’t enough, how are mortals making it across the threshold?” Zac asked.

“Your Inner World would naturally draw on the Cosmic Sea until you reach equilibrium,” Tavza said, matching what Zac had gathered from the notes left by Daoist Hidden Earth. “Naturally, this process is very slow, and you will reach equilibrium long before your Inner World has formed. This is why mortals have to open a proto-space instead of following the upper path. Adding a thousand years of accumulation is barely enough to form a Low-quality Inner World, provided you have prepared sufficient methods.”

“How long does a cultivator’s breakthrough last?”

“It depends on one’s foundations and the quality of the manual. Six months at the lowest, and three years is generally considered the limit,” Tavza said. “Keeping one’s Inner World in a state of reformation longer will do more harm than good.”

“Like trying to modify a Skill Fractal after it’s already stabilized,” Zac surmised. “Which means mortals have to struggle for a thousand years instead of three, only to end up with an Inner World that isn’t properly fused.”

“There are certain methods to force the gathered materia to fuse and condense, but I fear they cannot compare to the bond forged at the beginning of the process,” Tavza hesitated for a moment. “Worse, most mortals can’t gather enough materia to reach critical mass, even with a thousand years of accumulation. They’re forced to rely on external treasures, which will further diminish the outcome.”

“Diminish how?” Zac smiled and waved his hand upon seeing Tavza’s hesitance to answer. “It’s okay. This isn’t my first rodeo. I overcame these problems during my Core Formation, and I’ll do the same for my Inner World.”

Tavza slowly nodded. “The materia drawn from the Cosmic Sea is pure and unsullied, like Primal Dao. It’s neither claimed by Heaven nor Earth, perfectly malleable. There are naturally exceptions to any rule, but the foundation of an Inner World is best made solely with the help of the cosmos. On the other end of the spectrum are the alternative paths.”

“Alternative? Like unorthodox?” Zac asked.

“Mostly, but not exclusively,” Tavza lightly nodded. “The most common example is stealing foundations. Instead of forming your own world, you steal someone else’s. It’ll never match as well as something you’ve made yourself, but it might be better than the alternative.”

“Better than cobbling together a dead piece of land that can’t even reach the threshold of an Inner World?” Zac said with a smile, suddenly having a decent idea of how Galvarion entered Monarchy.

There were no explanations of how he crossed the threshold, but there were vivid descriptions of how he settled grudges, killing everyone who’d crossed him over the years—including C-grade clans. Rather than removing threats before his impending ascension, he might have been hunting for aging monarchs whose Inner Worlds would be easier to seize.

“It’s not only mortals who follow this route. Cultivators can mitigate some of the significant downsides since they can gradually reform the Inner World with their Cultivation Manual,” Tavza said. “In either case, I don’t think this is an option for you. Your path is too unique. You would have a higher chance of finding an actual planet that suits your needs than finding a Monarch with a matching Inner World.”

Zac and Ogras asked a few follow-up questions, after which most of the tension in his shoulders lifted. The situation could have been much worse, and learning that mortals following the orthodox path also relied on drawing materia from the Cosmic Sea was great news. He wouldn’t have to gather a mountain of suitable materials as he did before Hegemony.

The challenge of Monarchy was figuring out a way to draw enough of the correct materia from the Cosmic Sea. The drawing part couldn’t be considered a problem thanks to the Void Emperor bloodline. So long as he got his bloodline going, Zac was even confident he could match the absorption rate of cultivators and complete the process within the optimal three-year period.

The problem was getting his hands on the right materials. From how Tavza described it, the Cultivation Manual wasn’t just responsible for pulling attuned materia from the Cosmic Sea. It was also responsible for ensuring only the right materia was attracted. That was why most cultivators would customize their manuals before breaking through. That way, the Inner World would perfectly match their Daos.

If Zac simply opened a bunch of Void Vortices inside his proto-space, there was no telling what he’d attract. His bloodline was an equal-opportunity glutton, making no distinction between attunements or materials. That also invalidated any plans of turning the hidden Void in the depths of his bloodline into his Inner World. He’d hoped it could give him a head start since it was filled with plenty of refined rubble, but most of it was useless. Instead, Zac suspected his personal Void was connected to the weight of C-grade bloodlines.

After the talk, Zac could already see the path forward. It still had many details that needed to be figured out, but Monarchy had gone from a hazy aspiration to a goal that could be broken down into specific steps.

“More than anything, don’t rush your progress. Even with the matchless opportunities we’ve encountered across the Left Imperial Expanse, it’s unlikely any trialtaker would take that step inside. At most, a few might encounter the opportunity to perfect their core ahead of schedule,” Tavza said, which reined in some of Zac’s newfound confidence.

Forgetting that everyone inside the trial was rapidly advancing would be a deadly mistake. Ogras had elevated his constitution and his Daos. He’d also encountered an opportunity that greatly boosted his soul in one of the memory domains Zac had been unable to enter because of Mox. He was already eyeing Late Hegemony and would be ready after a few more months of fortuitous encounters.

The same was true for the competition. There were almost three dozen halos spread between the nine Outer Courts, and each one represented a fate-changing opportunity.

“I’ll take things one step at a time. I won’t take any crazy risks,” Zac said, ignoring the demon’s exaggerated eye-roll and Tavza’s obvious reservations.

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“So long as you’re aware. Now, I believe you promised to explain what happened after we split up,” the Draugr said.

Zac nodded and quickly recounted what happened after he entered the realmgate inside the Mousetrap. It didn’t take long, considering only a few minutes passed between splitting up with Tavza and falling unconscious from the four Supremacies’ overwhelming auras. Naturally, he didn’t mention any parts related to the Void, including how the Hollow Court’s Margrave arrived.

Unsurprisingly, Tavza placed the greatest weight on the Primo unexpectedly joining the battle. “The Lord descended through you? Are you certain?”

“As certain as I can be, given the circumstances,” Zac nodded.

“Did he say anything? He should have noticed traces of his mark on you,” Tavza asked.

“Nothing. His eyes just appeared and started spreading death. I spent so much time unconscious because of its lingering touch,” Zac said, finally asking the question that had been on his mind for a while now. “Is the Primo a Realmlord of the Eight Hells?”

Those terrifying, propagating eyes were too similar to what he’d seen from Kālasūtra’s Realmlord not to make the connection. It would also explain why the Primo had been conscripted for the construction of the Hollow Court and why his treasure was needed. Whatever the Limitless Empire commandeered from the Primo was probably turned into the core of the bridge to the Lower Planes.

Tavza didn’t immediately answer. Zac’s brows rose as one of her three abyssal Array Disks appeared behind her. The next moment, the cave disappeared and was replaced by utter Abyssal Darkness.

“The Lord is not part of the Eight Hells. The Lord should somehow be connected to the Ninth Hell, the untraceable darkness beneath Avīci. He might be its Realmlord. He might not. The Ninth Hell shouldn’t even exist under this Cosmic Order, and in some sense, it might not. It’s an enigma and paradox obscured by Chaos.”

“What—”