Bio-engineered Dinosaur in the immortal world

The air inside the grand sect hall felt like it had frozen solid.

The towering pillars, carved with the sect's ancient history, seemed to loom higher.

The flickering lanterns on the walls cast long, eerie shadows.

Even the faint incense in the air, usually calming, seemed to grow suffocating under the weight of what had just been said.

Guo Tian, with his face dark as storm clouds, stood stiff in silence.

He hadn't spoken a single word since Zou Fang's humiliating call-out, but his eyes burned with rage.

How did he find out? I was careful! I even use an illusion. How did he find out?

This illusion ability gives him a good sense of illusion around him if no one paid attention to him or focused on him, including even the patriarch.

But, how did Zou Fang see through his illusion?

His fingers twitched at his sides, his jaw clenched so tight the muscles rippled along his cheek.

Then—

BANG!

The Patriarch slammed his palm against the armrest of his throne.

A gust of force blasted outward, rippling through the hall like a shockwave. The elders' robes fluttered from the impact.

Some disciples stumbled back.

A few gasped in shock.

"Take him away," the Patriarch ordered, his voice sharp like a blade.

At once, two enforcers stepped forward.

They wore black robes embroidered with silver, the mark of the sect's internal discipline force.

Their expressions were stone cold, their hands gripping the hilts of their weapons. Guo Tian's face twisted, his mouth opening as if to protest—

SHWAA!

The two enforcers moved without hesitation. In the blink of an eye, they seized Guo Tian's arms, locking them in place with a force that left no room for struggle.

A surge of Qi erupted from their palms, forming glowing chains that wrapped tightly around his body.

Guo Tian thrashed. His spiritual energy flared, attempting to resist. But the chains shimmered ominously, suppressing his power.

"No! Wait! This is unfair! I was—"

WHAM!

One of the enforcers struck him in the gut. A muffled grunt escaped his lips as his knees buckled. His protests died in his throat.

Zou Fang, meanwhile, stood tall, a smirk creeping across his lips. But then—

His smirk turned into a sneer.

"Serves you right, you shameless fraud!" he barked, his voice loud and dripping with disgust. "Trying to take advantage of all of us like that! Who do you think you are? Just because you were an outer sect disciple before, you thought you could walk all over us? You thought no one would say anything? Hah! Pathetic!"

The crowd stirred. Whispers turned to murmurs, murmurs to exclamations.

Some disciples nodded in agreement.

Others whispered behind their hands.

A few even laughed at Guo Tian's misfortune.

Guo Tian, now bound and helpless, glared at Zou Fang with pure hatred. His face flushed red. His teeth gnashed together. He wanted to kill him.

Right here, right now. But the chains wouldn't let him move.

Zou Fang wasn't done.

He crossed his arms and shook his head dramatically. "You know, if you had at least done this smartly, maybe no one would've noticed. But no, you had to be stupid about it!" He clicked his tongue. "Outer sect disciple, trying to fool us all? Shameless!"

A wave of laughter rippled through the new disciples. The elders remained silent, but the Patriarch's fingers drummed against the armrest.

As Guo Tian was dragged away, his face twisted in humiliation, Zou Fang stood victorious. But then—

Inside the sea of consciousness…

Wei Long's golden eyes gleamed inside Zou Fang's mindscape. The space around him was vast, like an endless ocean of dark gold mist, swirling with untamed energy.

Zou Fang found himself standing before the little dinosaur, his form flickering with slight transparency. He swallowed hard. He already knew what was coming.

Wei Long didn't waste time.

"Zou Fang," he said, his voice smooth yet commanding. "Challenge the outer sect disciples."

Zou Fang's entire soul trembled.

His eyes went wide. His breath hitched.

"W-what?!" His voice cracked. "W-wait, wait, wait! No way! I—Did I hear that right?!" He took a step back. "You mean outer sect disciples? The ones who already passed the mortal realm? The ones who are in the Awakening Realm? You—You're joking, right?"

Wei Long's expression didn't change.

Zou Fang let out a nervous chuckle. "H-haha… ha… ha…"

Silence.

His laugh died.

Wei Long tilted his head, unimpressed.

Zou Fang panicked. "Hold on, hold on, hold on! D-do you really think that's a good idea? I mean, sure, I talk big sometimes, but that's crazy!" He waved his hands frantically. "Like, really crazy! Really, really, really crazy!"

Wei Long's tail flicked. "Are you questioning my judgment?"

"N-no! Of course not!" Zou Fang gulped. "B-but you do realize that these guys are monsters, right? They're not just a little stronger than us—they're on a completely different level!" He pointed a shaky finger. "I mean, they've already awakened their cultivation! Me? I'm just… me!"

Wei Long took a slow step forward. His golden eyes burned like molten metal.

"So?"

Zou Fang flinched. "So?! So?! Are you listening to me?! I'll be crushed! Pulverized! Turned into spiritual paste!"

Wei Long didn't blink. "And? You don't trust your Bashawk?"

Zou Fang's jaw dropped. "A-and?! That's a problem! A big one! And for Bashawk? I'm not sure, those outer disciples have beast in awakening realm too!"

Silence stretched between them.

Then, Wei Long spoke, his voice calm. "You want to be a core disciple, don't you?"

Zou Fang hesitated. "...Y-yes, but—"

"Then challenge them."

"B-but..." Zou Fang bit his lip. Sweat rolled down his temple. "This... this is insane..."

Wei Long's gaze hardened. "It's necessary."

A heavy pause.

Zou Fang's breathing was shaky. His fists clenched and unclenched. His thoughts ran wild.

Then—

He exhaled. Long and slow.

"...Fine."

And suddenly, his real-world body moved on instinct.

Just as Guo Tian was about to be dragged past the hall's entrance, Zou Fang's voice boomed across the chamber.

"Waiiitt!"

This would take the attention of everyone.

Zou Fang would pause and look at Goi Tian, and then finally, he would speak.

"I, Zou Fang, want to become a core disciple!"

The hall erupted.

Gasps.

Shock.

Murmurs exploding like thunder.

Some disciples looked at him like he'd lost his mind. Some were frozen in sheer disbelief.

But Zou Fang wasn't done.

His eyes burned with new determination. His breath was unsteady, but his voice was firm.

"So naturally, I will accept anyone's challenge." His voice rang clear, slicing through the noise. "Even the outer sect disciples!"

Silence.

Utter. Pure. Silence.

The elders blinked. Elder Fu choked on his own spit.

The Patriarch, still seated on his throne, slowly turned his head. His brows furrowed, his expression unreadable.

Then, finally—

The Patriarch's voice cut through the air.

"Is this real?"

Zou Fang's chest swelled as he took a deep breath, his heart pounding like a war drum. He stood tall, his eyes blazing with an unshakable determination. The entire hall was silent, waiting.

Then, he roared.

"If I cannot even challenge the outer sect disciples, then what right do I have to call myself a cultivator?!" His voice rang like a bell, shaking the very air. "What right do I have to dream of power, of recognition, of immortality?!"

The crowd stirred. Some disciples whispered, some scoffed, and some… leaned in, listening.

"I refuse to be just another nameless face in this sect!" Zou Fang's hands curled into fists. "I refuse to bow my head to fate! I refuse to sit in the dirt while others walk the path to greatness!" His voice climbed higher, filled with fire. "Do you all hear me?! I will challenge them! I will fight! I will show you all that I—Zou Fang—am not someone to be ignored!"

The new disciples looked at each other. Some smirked. Some shook their heads.

And then—

Laughter.

One disciple chuckled. Another let out a snort. Soon, the hall buzzed with voices, a mixture of amusement and mockery.

"Is this guy serious?" someone murmured.

"He's lost his damn mind!" another whispered.

One disciple leaned forward with a grin. "No, no, let him do it. I wanna see him get beaten into the ground."

Another burst out laughing. "Right? Let's see how far he gets before he's crawling away!"

The murmurs swelled into full-blown cheers. But these weren't cheers of support.

They were cheers for entertainment.

"Do it, Zou Fang!" one yelled.

"Let's see how long you last!"

"Hah! Challenge an outer sect disciple? You won't last a single strike!"

The jeering grew louder.

More disciples joined in, some clapping, some whistling, some outright howling with laughter. They didn't believe in him. They didn't need to. They just wanted a show. They wanted to watch him get crushed.

And yet—

Zou Fang grinned.

He spread his arms wide, embracing the noise. "Laugh all you want!" His voice was thunderous. "Mock me! Look down on me! Doubt me! But let me ask you this—" His gaze swept across the hall. "If none of you dare to challenge them, then what makes you better than me?"

The laughter died.

The jeers stopped.

The air shifted, thick with tension. Some disciples stiffened. Others clenched their jaws.

Zou Fang smirked. "That's right. You're all just waiting for someone else to do it. Sitting back, watching, afraid." He pointed at them. "You don't actually want me to lose—you just want an excuse not to try!"

Murmurs rose again, this time hesitant.

A few disciples averted their gazes.

Some looked… uncomfortable.

Zou Fang exhaled. "But I am not afraid." He turned his gaze back toward the elders. "I will fight. I will win. And if I fail—then I will rise again!" His voice boomed through the chamber. "Because that is what it means to be a cultivator!"

For a moment, the hall was silent.

Then—

BANG!

The Patriarch slammed his palm against the throne's armrest. The force cracked the air itself, sending a powerful shockwave through the hall. The disciples staggered. Some nearly fell to their knees. The sheer authority in that single gesture crushed the atmosphere in an instant.

"Enough!" The Patriarch's voice was deep, resonant, like the roar of a divine beast. "Do you think this sect exists solely for fighting?" His eyes bore into Zou Fang like steel blades.

Zou Fang clenched his teeth, but he held his ground.

"You speak of battle, of proving your strength, but do you understand what a sect truly is?" The Patriarch's gaze swept across the crowd, his presence heavy as a mountain. "A sect is not a stage for personal glory! A sect is not a mere battleground for arrogance!"

The air grew heavier with each word.

"The foundation of a sect is unity," the Patriarch declared. "A sect is built on more than just combat! It is built on contributions, on purpose, on the pursuit of something greater than oneself!"

His voice thundered across the hall.

"You want to be acknowledged?" His eyes bore into Zou Fang. "Then tell me—what do you bring to this sect beyond your fists?!"

Zou Fang's breath hitched.

The Patriarch leaned forward, his aura suffocating. "Strength alone does not make one valuable! Can you refine pills?" His words struck like hammer blows. "Can you craft formations? Can you heal the wounded? Can you refine spiritual weapons? Can you expand the sect's influence?"

The questions pounded into the hall.

"You think we will accept you simply because you can fight?" The Patriarch's eyes burned. "Foolishness! There are a thousand warriors stronger than you! But do you know what is rarer?"

He let the words hang.

"A cultivator who is useful."

The disciples froze.

The weight of those words sank into them.

"Do you think an army of brutes makes a powerful sect?" The Patriarch's expression was unreadable. "No. A sect thrives because it has pill refiners to supply them. Because it has formation masters to protect them. Because it has spiritual healers to preserve them. Because it has intelligent leaders to guide them."

The disciples lowered their heads.

Some fidgeted. Some looked ashamed.

The Patriarch sat back, his presence as grand as a divine statue. "So, Zou Fang," his voice was quieter now, but no less commanding, "if you wish to prove yourself, then prove that you are more than a fighter. Prove that you have something this sect truly needs."

Zou Fang's throat went dry. His mind raced.

The Patriarch lifted his gaze beyond him, sweeping over the gathered disciples.

"Not just him," he said at last.

Silence.

The disciples blinked.

The Patriarch's eyes gleamed with authority. "This applies to all of you."

The words crashed down like a divine decree.