Whatever progress Wang Chen had achieved over these past three hundred years, he knew one truth with absolute clarity.
If he wanted to push beyond this frontier—if he wished to touch that forbidden fourth form—he could not do it alone.
No amount of stubborn persistence would bridge this gap.
Even if he sealed himself in meditation for another thousand years, grinding away at enlightenment until his sanity thinned, he might still fail to grasp the final essence of the Thief Supreme's Legacy.
He needed foreign intervention.
A specialization.
A class.
Something that could shatter the invisible ceiling pressing down on him.
"Hm…"
The low murmur escaped his lips as he exhaled slowly.
Without hesitation, Wang Chen rose to his feet and turned toward Mo Huyan. Then—something he rarely did—he bowed, not deeply, but sincerely.
It was not a gesture of submission.
It was gratitude.
