But where was the fun in that

"So you don't know where the tomb is…?"

Ricky's voice echoed lazily within Noctyss' mind, laced with suspicion.

"Yeah, but it should still be somewhere in the vicinity of the forest," she replied with a twitch of her brow, doing her best to ignore the massive mosquito comfortably perched atop her head like a sovereign surveying his domain.

Ricky's antennae twitched, his tone immediately sharpening. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

Did this woman genuinely believe he was some naive insect? If the tomb was in the forest, he would've seen it by now. It wasn't as if tombs—especially those of powerful existences—could simply vanish into thin air. It was a tomb, for god's sake. Not a pebble someone could stuff in their pocket.

Just as his irritation peaked, his antennae quivered violently—as if they had caught onto a thread of revelation.

He narrowed his compound eyes. "Explain."

Noctyss sighed, lips curling faintly into a smug smile. "Of course it's my tomb. Do you think it would be so obvious? The structure has a Stage 4 formation embedded within it. It can change its size and shape at will."

Finally getting the opportunity to speak in detail, she stretched her arms casually and leaned back, her tone turning vaguely nostalgic as she described the treasures tucked away in her tomb's treasury. Rarities, artifacts, secrets of immense power—all stored beneath layers of spatial manipulation and defensive runes.

While she detailed the opulence sealed within, her lips curled ever so slightly, a sly light flashing in her eyes. Salivate, little mosquito… dream all you want, but you'll never touch any of it.

She wanted him to feel the ache of desire—the torment of being so close to unimaginable wealth, yet completely unable to grasp it.

Noctyss almost laughed out loud.

But Ricky didn't bite.

His expression didn't shift in the slightest. His gaze remained indifferent, even faintly bored.

Sure, treasures were nice. But what could possibly stir his heart now that he possessed the system? Compared to that miraculous entity, even Noctyss' legendary tomb felt like a shiny trinket.

If she thought he'd roll over and wag his metaphorical tail like a dog, she was sorely mistaken.

Noctyss narrowed her eyes. The disinterest in Ricky's gaze—it didn't look feigned.

Is he really not tempted?

Suppressing a frown, she let out a soft laugh. "Well… let's see how long you can keep pretending."

Her phoenix eyes glittered mischievously.

"Hmph!" Ricky waved his foreleg dismissively. "Anyway, I don't care about your tomb or what's in it. Let's move on. Tell me about spiritual fields."

Now that was something that had been in his mind. After multiple encounters with Stage 2 beings, the curiosity had turned into a burning need. Spiritual fields seemed to be the true line dividing the weak from the strong. And if he wanted to make use of mana like they did, he needed to understand the foundation first.

Hearing his direct request, Noctyss immediately transformed her expression into one of delicate confusion. Her brows arched, eyes blinking innocently as if she had no idea what he meant.

Her tone turned airy and confused. "Spiritual field? Hmm? What's that?"

Ricky rolled his eyes and snorted. "Speak."

His commanding tone shattered the illusion of her innocence.

With a dramatic sigh, Noctyss slumped slightly and began reciting her knowledge like a child forced to give a school presentation. But beneath the surface of her irritation was a well of rich understanding—after all, she had been a Stage 4 being in the past.

"Spiritual field is the outward manifestation of the spiritual space within a cultivator's body," she began.

"Spiritual space?" Ricky immediately cut in.

"Tch… what an ignorant mosquito," Noctyss muttered under her breath, but when Ricky gave her another look, she sighed and continued.

"Spiritual space is automatically formed once a warrior raises their spiritual force to a certain threshold and becomes a Stage 2 being. It's a separate dimension, unique to each cultivator… like a personal realm inside their body where mana gathers and flows."

Their conversation spiraled from there, flowing like a stream of heated questions and reluctant answers.

Noctyss, despite herself, became increasingly engrossed in the back-and-forth. Her vast knowledge was being picked apart and absorbed at a surprising pace.

Ricky, on the other hand, absorbed everything like a sponge. His understanding grew deeper, more structured, until a coherent image began to form in his mind.

By the end of the exchange, even he had to admit—Noctyss' grasp on the subject was exceptional.

Yet as he floated there, processing what he'd learned, Noctyss' expression had darkened considerably. A shadow clung to her lovely features.

In the beginning, she had thought he was pretending. She assumed he'd eventually circle back to the tomb—drooling over her descriptions, begging for a peek.

But he never did.

Not even a whisper of interest.

It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water over her head.

Then, just as she was about to speak, Ricky's voice rang out again.

"Give me your best technique to form the spiritual seed."

His words were firm and final.

The spiritual field could not be controlled without first forming the spiritual space, and for that, a meditation technique was necessary.

Noctyss hesitated for a heartbeat, then sighed and nodded. "Alright. Let me send you the most profound technique I currently have…"

A devious light flickered in her eyes.

She didn't bother giving him a beginner-friendly method. No. What she shared was dense, profound, and cryptic beyond belief—a method only someone with monstrous perception and patience could even begin to grasp.

As soon as the technique was transmitted, Ricky's eyes trembled slightly.

A flood of intricate knowledge poured into his mind like a waterfall. Diagrams. Phrases. Flow patterns. Mental states. All of it submerged his consciousness.

He quickly skimmed the title.

Demonic Beings Roaring in Ten Directions.

At that moment, the system's calm, emotionless voice echoed in his mind.

[A meditation technique of mysterious origin detected.]

[Use fifty years of lifespan to learn the technique?]

Ricky paused.

Then, without hesitation, he confirmed.

His body shuddered as a tidal wave of weakness swept through him. His vision blurred. Roughly thirty percent of his lifespan vanished in the blink of an eye.

But that was only the beginning.

His consciousness spun, time twisted—and in the next instant, he became a simple mosquito again. One without a system. One without power.

The only thing that remained was the technique.

And so, every single day, the mosquito meditated. It repeated the same actions, trying to understand the technique's cryptic meanings. Days turned into months. Months turned into years. Slowly but surely, it grew—no longer a pest, but a force capable of shaking the very skies.

Winds changed at the flap of its wings. Power surged from its every breath.

Fifty years passed in the seemingly illusion crafted by the system—and the world shattered like a glass mirror.

Ricky's eyes refocused as his awareness returned to his current body.

…

Noctyss leaned against a stone pillar, watching Ricky with amusement.

The dazed, vacant look in his eyes made her smirk.

"As expected," she muttered under her breath. "There's no way a simple pest could comprehend such a profound technique. Even I took over a decade to just scratch the surface…"

She could have given him a basic technique—one that was practical and easy to master.

But where was the fun in that?

She had deliberately chosen something far beyond his level.

Yet, one could only wonder…

How would she react if she learned that not only had Ricky understood it—but he had already mastered it?