This was that damned Dole, that damned Duling Bone Tower. He would recognize it even if it turned to ashes.
They had not met for long, yet this wizard tower had grown even more powerful.
Dole must have noticed the changes in the dream rules and found this place because of them. He knew where he was.
Damn it.
That man had also mastered the Nightmare Meditation Method. He was his true great enemy. Damn it.
But what was with that avatar? He had never seen it before, and the aura on it seemed strangely familiar.
At present, only Dole himself knew that he cultivated the Nightmare Meditation Method. No one else believed it. He had already looked into it: Dole possessed another meditation method and had grasped a tiny fragment of the dream rules—not all of them, but just enough to brush against the rules.
But how had Dole discovered him? Could it be because of that bizarre-looking thing?
At that moment, he realized that the direction they had come from was indeed aimed directly at him, without the slightest deviation. His heart sank. After a brief moment of thought, his slightly muddled mind began arranging things of its own accord.
The dream rules manifested, continuously giving rise to people, cities, and powerful experts, all forming at a speed visible to the naked eye.
He would fortify this place until it was like an iron barrel. He could not die.
He was not afraid of dying this time, but he did not want to go through it again either. He had only just mastered the dream rules. Given enough time, he was confident he could dominate the world and make the entire West Ring Continent submit beneath his feet.
But what he lacked most right now was time.
Just