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West stared up at Grandpa Vremya. The phoegon was the only one of its siblings to stay inside the secluded cultivation room. The other phoegons were busy patrolling the flying whale golem as it traveled across the land. Although the word patrolling was used to describe their actions, they were actually just being a nuisance. Of course, Grandpa Vremya didn’t know anything about what they were doing because his body was seated in meditation, his eyes closed, his legs crossed. A miniature version of himself was floating above his head, seated the same way as him. Its body was completely white, made of wisps of spiritual energy. Some parts of its body had less spiritual energy, adding shading and depth to its appearance.

Drool leaked out of West’s mouth as it stared at the floating figure. It didn’t know why Grandpa Vremya’s nascent soul smelled so damned delicious, but it was having a hard time holding back. If it weren’t for the fact it treated Grandpa Vremya as its mother, West would’ve already taken a bite out of the miniature person. As if noticing the drooling beast, Grandpa Vremya flicked his finger, and a black tentacle appeared, falling in front of the phoegon. West didn’t even have to think before gobbling the tentacle up, finishing a quarter of it with three bites. It wouldn’t be very fair to its siblings if it ate a whole tentacle by itself. However, after thinking about it some more, Grandpa Vremya had said there was no need to share anything. West gulped down its saliva and shoved its face into the rest of the tentacle.

Grandpa Vremya’s nascent soul pulsed as energy from the spiritual-energy-gathering formation built into the room surged into it. It held its hands up in front of its chest, its palms facing each other but separated as if it were holding a ball. The outline of a small seed materialized in the space between its hands. It looked a bit like an egg, but the nascent soul pressed its two hands together and rolled the seed between its palms until it was shaped like a sphere. Afterwards, it released the seed, and it floated into its previous position once more. With a sound similar to a toy spring going off, the top of the spherical seed extended, turning it into the shape of an egg once more.

Grandpa Vremya’s brow furrowed. Was this the influence of the phoegons? According to his timeline, it was a bit early for him to condense a spirit seed, but when the phoegons were around, his spiritual-energy-absorption rate was off the charts. However, it didn’t seem to be entirely beneficial seeing as his spirit seed looked more like a spirit egg. Once the spirit seed sprouted, would a spiritual plant still grow inside his body, or would a beast hatch out of it? The nascent soul’s brow furrowed as well, and a moment later, it once again remolded the egg into a seed. As expected, the seed bounced back, turning into an egg once more.

For the first time in his mortal life, Grandpa Vremya felt a headache brewing. It was an unpleasant feeling to have a wrench thrown into his perfectly crafted plans. However, plans weren’t always absolute, and if this was currently happening to him, then could it really be a bad thing? Only good things had ever happened to him, and even the bad things, like being thrown into prison for a hundred years in the Moon Lotus Sect, turned out to be good in the end. Perhaps this was another experience of turning misfortune into fortune. His nascent soul stopped trying to turn the egg into a seed and, instead, fused some more spiritual energy into it.

Different scenes flashed through Grandpa Vremya’s head: the time he achieved an undisputable first place in Metal Warbots; the time he sumo-wrestled with someone six hundred pounds heavier and won during the Bread Games; the time he defeated his opponents with twenty-seven kills and zero deaths and claimed the top five spots on the Game of Gods’ leaderboards. Each of those experiences were infused into the spirit seed floating in front of his nascent soul. As the seed obtained more and more experiences, it became denser and denser, absorbing and compressing spiritual energy until it became pure white. During this process, the phoegons entered and left the room multiple times, receiving some titan flesh every time they did. Only West stayed in the room with Grandpa Vremya, not leaving his side once as he cultivated.

Thanks to the formations set up in the room, Grandpa Vremya was shielded from external influences—other than the phoegons, and by the time his spirit seed finished condensing, a month had already passed. At that point, the spirit seed was blinding to look at, practically shining like a sun. His nascent soul hugged the spirit seed and sank into Grandpa Vremya’s head. With that, he was no longer a nascent-soul cultivator but a soul-seed cultivator. Vitality surged through Grandpa Vremya’s body, and his eyes shot open. West met Grandpa Vremya’s gaze and flinched. To the phoegon, it seemed like it was staring into pure emptiness, and its soul threatened to leave its body at any moment.

Grandpa Vremya blinked, his eyes returning to normal. He rubbed the phoegon’s head, snapping it out of its daze. He placed a piece of titan flesh down in front of it, seemingly the only way he knew how to interact with the phoegons. Now that his soul seed was complete, he no longer had to worry about being a domineering figure; however, the soul seed inside of him was filled to the brim with domineeringness. It would naturally influence his thoughts and actions, not that it would really change anything about his original personality. Grandpa Vremya undid the formations surrounding the room; the one that prevented entry was damaged with traces of scorch marks pointing towards the culprits. They were nowhere to be seen, but Grandpa Vremya wasn’t worried. Whoever encountered them would have a tough time, not the other way around.

“Your secluded cultivation is complete?” Azalea asked. She wasn’t around, but her voice was being broadcasted through the whale golems internal speaker system. Thanks to the camera installed in front of the room, she could easily tell when he was done. “How did it go?”

“It was obviously a success,” Grandpa Vremya said, speaking towards the wall. Right? It could be counted as a success since the soul seed was formed even if it was shaped like an egg. He continued walking down the hall with West wrapped around his left arm. It didn’t take very long for him to get to the pilot’s room where Azalea was sitting. Outside, on the windshield which was the whale golem’s eyes, three phoegons were sunbathing, obnoxiously blocking the view. Grandpa Vremya could barely see any discerning features on the ground. “Where are we?”

“We’re about to arrive at the presidential building,” Azalea said. She gestured towards the screen in front of herself which was connected to a camera at the back of the flying golem. Dozens of whale golems were flying behind them. “I wouldn’t say the majority of the population has accepted the Moon Lotus Sect as the leader of the federation, but we’ve already convinced the small minority that actually matter: the politicians, the CEOs of military companies, and the obscenely rich families. It’s just a matter of time before the news informs the populace of the change in power, and at that point, what can they do as individuals? If anyone protests, we’ll just send some battlesuit golems to quash them.”

Grandpa Vremya nodded. Having control of the federation wasn’t a bad thing. The larger the territory, the more resources that could be taken. Although he didn’t need anything except for spirit stones to cultivate, now that he had become a soul-seed cultivator, the amount of spirit stones he needed to advance once more was quite a lot. With the Moon Lotus Sect taking the reins, they would obviously redirect some spirit stones towards his cultivation; after all, without his golems, it wouldn’t have been so easy to become the leaders.

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