Absolute darkness and void.

Consciousness feels as if it has been thrown into an abyss where even time doesn’t exist, with all senses, thoughts, and sense of existence completely stripped away.

Then...

Pain!

An indescribable soul-level pain, like millions of glowing hot steel needles simultaneously piercing into every corner of awareness, forcibly tearing him out from that absolute "nothingness"!

"Ah!!!"

Jeming suddenly opened his eyes, but could only see a blur.

He instinctively struggled, and it wasn’t until his pupils refocused that he realized he was suspended in a liquid glowing faintly green.

His body soaked in the viscous liquid, with a respirator covering his mouth and nose, and his limbs feeling a weak and powerless unfamiliarity.

He was inside a gigantic glass cultivation tank.

After the initial pain passed, his senses quickly returned.

Through the transparent liquid, he saw rows of similar tanks around him, like cold tombstones standing in the dim space.

Only small indicator lights at the edges of the tanks, showing operational status, emanated a quiet glow, revealing sleeping human outlines within the tanks.

Just as his consciousness fully awakened and began to struggle...

Buzz...

A gentle white light suddenly lit up from top to bottom, dispelling all darkness, illuminating the entire space as bright as daylight.

This was a futuristic and vast laboratory.

The lofty dome, with walls imbued with a metallic cold glow, embedded with countless screens of flowing data.

Various precise and complex mechanical arms quietly suspended in the air or fixed on brackets, with the air circulation system emitting a low hum, carrying the fresh scent of disinfectant and some nutritive matrix.

Everything here was in perfect order, filled with high-tech sensation.

The nutrient liquid within the tank was being absorbed by his body at a visible speed, like a dried-out sponge encountering water.

The extreme weakness rapidly faded, strength re-condensing in his limbs.

He reached out, somewhat roughly tugged off the respirator from his mouth and nose, greedily breathing the remaining air infused with the scent of nutrient liquid.

Click.

The reinforced glass cover in front of him silently slid open, creating an exit.

Jeming supported his still somewhat limp body, stumbled out of the cultivation tank, and fell on the cold, smooth metal floor.

The viscous nutrient liquid slid off his naked body, forming a puddle on the ground.

"Hah... Hah..." he panted heavily, lying on the floor.

Not just a physical need, but an instinctive response from surviving a disaster.

Only now did the extreme fear that was momentarily "erased" crash like a delayed tsunami onto his mind, bringing almost suffocating cold shivers.

Yet, the cold air he inhaled into his lungs, the powerful beating of his heart at the center of his chest, the tangible sensation from his limbs, all clearly told him—

He was alive!

Jeming lifted his head, surveyed the familiar sections of the laboratory, instantly understanding what had happened.

Death Replacement Doll! (Chapter 164)

That unsmiling mentor, who nevertheless valued him highly, had forcefully given him a life-saving item before he left for the Living Plane—an exceedingly precious one-time wonder created using "causal reversal" and "soul anchoring" technologies.

It could forcibly reverse causality and instantly transfer the soul to a pre-set clone body cultivated based on the host’s genes and spiritual imprint when the host encounters an instant death effect!

He immediately introspected the depths of his soul.

Indeed, the intricate imprint like a delicate rag doll originally engraved on his soul origin was now filled with cracks, the glow dimming, slowly dissipating.

A chill blended with relief made cold sweat instantly soak his back.

He survived, but the fear of directly facing "nonexistence" was truly genuine and unforgettable.

Jeming quickly checked his own state.

His spiritual power was active and full, with no sign of depletion.

The nascent soul within the dantian seemed somewhat languid, a manifestation of spiritual power overconsumption during the revival process.

But fortunately, the foundation was stable, without realm regression.

This clone body was perfectly cultivated using his own cells, with essence, qi, and spirit of the same origin, apart from the initial sense of weakness, with no rejection or discomfort.

"It’s just the emptiness after spiritual power exhaustion... a bit of rest will help recover." Jeming breathed a slight sigh of relief but was immediately filled with regret.

"What a pity... the ’adaptive evolution’ resistance brought by the ’Body Refining Technique’ might have vanished with the destruction of the previous body..."

The body’s strength can be retrained with spiritual power, but those special resistances to various energies, environments, and even mental influences are precious wealth accumulated through countless dangers, and perhaps...

As this thought arose in his mind, a sudden change occurred!

The subtle tingling sensation in his mind from the overuse of spiritual power began to ease and disappear at an incredible speed.

At the same time, that lingering feeling of physical weakness also quickly dissipated like a retreating tide, replaced by a familiar sense of strength and abundant energy.

This feeling... is clearly the powerful resistance the body develops against the state of ’weakness’ after reaching a high level of refinement with the ’Body Refining Technique’!

"Could it be..." An unbelievable gleam of joy burst in Jeming’s eyes, "these resistances... haven’t disappeared with the change of body?!"

He carefully sensed and eventually confirmed this was the case.

Not only was there resistance to weakness, but he could dimly feel that his body’s tolerance to high temperatures, low temperatures, toxins, and even a certain degree of mental interference was exactly as it was before his "death"!

"I didn’t expect... this body cultivation technique to be so profound?!" Jeming was shocked.

The ’adaptive evolution’ brought by the ’Body Refining Technique’ seems to imprint not only on the physical body but also, to some extent, on his life’s origin or soul.

Even with a new shell, these evolutionary "achievements" remain intact!

It’s truly an unexpected surprise!

He took a few more breaths, felt the strength rapidly returning to his body, and then stood up.

The sticky nutrient solution made him uncomfortable all over, so he glanced around, confirming that this was indeed the "Biological Management and Living Body Storage Section" under Professor Clark’s laboratory.

"It seems Professor Clark placed the revival body of the death replacement doll here." He comprehended in his heart.

Just as he began to ponder further, an invisible distortion in the space beside him occurred, like ripples across the water.

The next second, Professor Clark, dressed impeccably in a black wizard robe, with a slightly balding head and a stern, serious face, appeared in the laboratory.

Clark’s eyes, which seemed to discern everything, scanned over Jeming, pausing on him for a moment.

Seeing his swift recovery and the subsiding death replacement doll imprint on his soul, Clark’s face betrayed no emotion, merely giving an almost imperceptible nod, his previously tense shoulders relaxing just the slightest bit.

"It seems you encountered a formidable enemy." Clark’s voice was calm and indifferent, devoid of concern.

Yet Jeming knew this was how the professor expressed care.

Jeming nodded, a bit of fear lingering in his heart: "I almost didn’t make it back."

Clark responded with a simple "Hmm," continuing in a detached manner: "It’s not necessarily bad to suffer some losses. Remember this lesson, and in future actions, understand the need for balance and patience, and think three times over before acting."

Jeming, however, grinned, showing a weary yet spirited smile: "Professor, this time... I may not have lost anything. With some luck, I might even bring back a top merit."

Upon hearing this, Clark, for once, raised his usually furrowed eyebrows in surprise.

Yet he didn’t press for details, merely gesturing with his hand: "If you’re able to move, follow me out of here; you need to make a formal report."

"Yes, Professor."

Jeming glanced down at his naked and mucus-covered body, extended a finger, and sketched a simple shadow of a refining array in the air.

A weak spirit light mixed with his remaining spiritual power flashed, and the nutrient solution clinging to his body swiftly decomposed, reorganized, and transformed, in the blink of an eye, into a clean, form-fitting gray wizard robe that enveloped him.

Following Professor Clark through the laboratory’s internal space transmission array, amidst the flow of light and shadow, Jeming once again stepped onto the familiar and solid ground of Nolun No.13 Academy.

Without any delay, not even pausing to feel the complex emotions of returning to the academy, Jeming immediately applied for a laboratory within the academy.

He closed off all external communications, mustering all his spiritual power, and meticulously organized his experiences, observations, reasoning during the six years on that bizarre plane, including the alliance with Reks, the front-line investigations, direct confrontations with "Justice," and the ultimate conclusions on the "Mind Realm" and the core logic of the artificial intelligence "Justice," into an extremely detailed and confidential report.

Through the magic network terminal stored in his body’s space, the report, carrying all the secrets of that plane, was directly sent to the highest command of the expeditionary army targeting that unknown plane.

It’s imaginable the shock and attention this report would incite among the high command.

Jeming stood in the laboratory, gazing at the deep, boundless starlit sky through the large crystal window.

He knew the stage now belonged to the Eighth Level entities at the pinnacle of the Wizard Civilization.

With the intelligence he provided, the Eighth Level Wizards could precisely strike against "Justice" itself.

Arguably, the subsequent outcome of this plane war was already destined.

However, that was a battle beyond his current capabilities, so Jeming simply had no intention to return immediately.

His task was complete.

Looking at the stars, he felt a pang of indescribable complexity towards the vast plane confined by "noble ideals" and the sage who, harboring utopian dreams, created such a cold reality.

But in any case, he had returned alive and brought back the truth.