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Translator's note: Yes, Tan Han's achievement is impressive, but still, Yuehan's power is as deep as an ocean. So I think Yuehan's still more of a genius than Tan Han.
In the end, I didn’t say anything.
Interrupting her first attempt just to nag her about magical utilities felt… wrong. And honestly? With how rich she is, she could live in this place for a month without blinking. It’s not like she’d waste anything.
Worst case, she fails this round, feels the pain, and then appreciates the support spells.
There’s no growth without contrast. That first, all-out failure? That’s what makes the “assist” feel meaningful later.
I quietly moved to the wall and sat down. The incense here smelled amazing, and I wanted to take advantage of it too… but that felt rude. So I just stayed there, quietly keeping watch.
Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me.
I activated Psi-vision again.
Yes, I knew there was that terrifying golden presence earlier—but if I just didn’t focus on it, it should be fine, right?
I just wanted to watch how her meditation space formed.
A rare chance like this doesn’t come twice.
I’ve never gone through a proper, normal meditation process. If I had the option, I’d love to meditate like everyone else instead of stumbling through the dream space without understanding anything.
When I looked at her again, that golden force was still there—but it wasn’t violent this time. It flowed around her in soft waves, settling over her like a warm halo.
From my perspective, she was a glowing sphere of light.
Then—It noticed me.
The golden aura rippled, coiling inward before condensing into a sphere—then shaping into an “eye.” A vast, radiant eye.
It rotated slowly, and then it locked onto me.
The moment our gazes aligned, a primal terror seized my body, like an invisible hand closed around my throat, choking off my breath.
My blood felt like it had stopped flowing. My limbs went numb. My mind blurred, fading into static.
Then I snapped back.
Just like that.
As if nothing had happened at all—except for the violent pounding in my chest and the harsh rush of breath scraping my lungs.
I forced myself to breathe quietly, but my body felt weak, starved of oxygen.
It took a long moment for strength to return.And in the end, only one thought remained:
What the hell was that?
That… was too terrifying.
Is that what the world of transcendence looks like?
I rubbed my forehead. The strange thing was—Psi-vision hadn’t broken. It was still active. It was adjusting, as if it were continuously reshaping itself to make sense of the inner world.
Before, I treated Psi-vision and normal sight as two separate states, but now… that seemed wrong.
It wasn’t on-or-off, not two modes. It was depth, a gradient.
From 0 to 1—from seeing nothing to seeing something. And beyond that, there were 2, 3, 4… infinite layers of understanding.
If I treated the shallow layer of Psi-vision as my default state and adapted to it, it honestly wouldn’t affect my daily life much. If anything, gaining contact with the transcendence side of reality gave me a broader perspective—more ways to see the world.
Like right now—Psi-vision was “on,” but I could no longer see that golden eye that had terrified me earlier. All I saw were faint golden motes drifting around Tan Han like fireflies.
Somehow, I was subconsciously filtering that overwhelming presence out—just like I filtered unnecessary information.
Without meaning to, I had gained a deeper degree of control over Psi-vision.
I wasn’t sure whether that was good or bad
But I didn’t have the luxury of thinking about it—not when I was seeing this.
Around Tan Han’s body, a thin, hazy layer of space flickered into existence.
Small. Barely enough to cover her form, but I knew what it was the second I saw it. I had seen it dozens of times from the seniors.
A meditation space.
Tan Han had succeeded so easily. So quickly.
I couldn’t believe it.
I could actually see her meditation space expanding—slowly, deliberately—like it was devouring the surrounding area.
No—that wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t devouring the space. It was assimilating the dreamscape.
I watched, holding my breath, as the boundary pushed outward, widening inch by inch.
I didn’t dare touch it; I didn’t dare step inside; I just backed up until my back met the wall.
The boundary approached my face, touched my nose, and then flowed past me, quietly enveloping me inside.
There was no impact. No resistance. No sensation at all. Just the sense that the meditation space and I existed on separate layers of reality.
I exhaled—relief and excitement mixing in my chest.
She had done it, ON HER FIRST TRY.
No matter how little I’d actually contributed—I had witnessed a miracle.
She really lived up to the title of genius. “Top of the class” didn’t even begin to describe it.
For a moment, I wondered if I should tell the café seniors—especially the store manager. She always paid special attention to Tan Han…
But in the end, I didn’t.
This was her achievement, her joy to share, her story to tell. I would not take that from her.
Quietly, I got up and went over to the incense burner. I mean, I was paid ten thousand yuan. The least I could do was handle some small things.
The incense wouldn’t last all night, so I replaced it—carefully, gently. The shop provided unlimited incense anyway, so… it would be a waste not to use it.
A steady flow of incense would support her meditation and strengthen her mental power. Even if I had to pull an all-nighter, it was fine. Who wouldn’t stay up to do their job properly after getting paid this much?
What I didn’t expect, tho, was that her meditation would really last until morning.
I watched the time on my phone tick past the hour when I normally woke up. Meanwhile, Tan Han was still sitting there—she’d meditated the entire night.
Weren’t the books pretty clear that meditation couldn’t replace sleep?
Well, guess that’s not my problem today. Looks like I’m not going to the bakery this morning.
I gently placed the lid back on the incense burner. That was the last replacement I could do—if she wasn’t awake by daylight, then that was that.
I yawned, shuffled back to my little corner, and half-curled up. My eyes fell shut almost instantly.
And before long, I was asleep.
Not too long after I drifted off, Tan Han slowly opened her eyes.
A full night of meditation was still a bit much for her—there was a heaviness behind her eyelids and a faint soreness in her thoughts—but the results were undeniable. She’d never imagined meditation would be this simple. She just closed her eyes, and when she opened them again—success.
Meditation space, thread of consciousness, all touched, all grasped.
She tilted her head slightly. The scent of incense soothed her tired mind—but she distinctly remembered the stick she lit wouldn’t have lasted that long.
Even if she couldn’t tell how much time had passed, the fatigue made the answer obvious.
Yuehan…? Her gaze drifted around the room—until it landed on me, fast asleep in the corner. She was surprised to see that I was still here.
She pushed herself up to stand, only to realize her legs were completely numb after maintaining the same posture all night. She sank back down, wincing, then—just to be safe—glanced in my direction to confirm I hadn’t seen that.
Only after confirming did she breathe a quiet sigh of relief. “…We should go back. And I should take Yuehan with me…”