“Congratulations, you finally got rid of it. But now we need to talk about what you did with the treasure allocation!”

  Xu Han caught the look on his dungeon fairy’s face and knew right away he was in trouble. “No need! I get it. I shouldn’t have messed with the treasure in the chest. That was a mistake. I wasted a lot of energy for no good reason. It won’t happen again.”

  Jemma, of course, wasn’t going to let him off that easy. “Glad to hear you’re not planning on doing it again, but it’s not just about wasting energy. We need to talk about the principle of the matter!”

  “Principle? What principle?”

  “Do you know it takes so much divine energy to change what’s inside a treasue chest after you’ve put something in. It’s because the treasues are supposed to be randomized, to be rewarded based on the performance of the adventurers. You can’t just swap things around!” Jemma screeched.

  Xu Han realized he might be in more trouble than he thought. He’d have to calm her down—or maybe just change the topic. The dungeon core went with the second option.

  “You know,” Xu Han started, a little slower, “I don’t really understand that. This is my dungeon. I created the treasure. I made the chests. So, why can’t I just give a specific treasure to an adventurer who actually needs something? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “Because they have to earn it! Dungeon cores can’t just hand out treasures to their favorite adventurers. That’s favouritism, and it’s not fair. Dungeons are about challenges. The whole point is that adventurers get rewards for overcoming obstacles. They get stronger, find magic, earn treasures—but they must risk their lives and earn it! Treasures aren’t gifts, they’re rewards. And these rewards have to be based on performance! You can’t just give them away!”

  If Xu Han had a real body, his eye would be twitching from all the yelling. Jemma may think she has a point, but he wasn’t convinced.

  “Jemma,” Xu Han said, keeping his voice as steady as possible, “I get what you’re saying, but why do you insist on making all treasures random? Wouldn’t it be easier to give certain items to certain adventurers? They have specific needs, and it’s not like I’m handing the treasures for nothing. The adventurers still need to prove themselves in the dungeon. So, what’s the harm?”

  Jemma growled, but Xu Han caught a quick flash in her eyes telling him she was thinking about his question. “Core, that’s the magic of the dungeon. The randomness isn’t just a gimmick. It’s the essence of a dungeon. Adventurers don’t just come here chasing gold. They’re after adventure, the rush of not knowing what’s next. Even if they’re Level 1, even if they started out with nothing, the dungeon could flip their entire life in a single delve. That’s why they risk their lives. That’s what makes them adventurers. They’re pushing against the unknown—and their own limits. That’s why they enter dungeons.”

  Xu Han didn’t let up. “But what about people who really need something, right now? Wouldn’t it make more sense to give them exactly what they’re after? Like that book. The party needed it, and honestly, so does everyone else in this world.”

  Jemma landed with a heavy sigh and massaged her forehead, clearly annoyed. “If we start handing out treasures to whoever needs them most, the whole idea of the dungeon falls apart. Suddenly, it’s not about discovery or challenge anymore. It’s about waiting for handouts. And that’s just the start of the problem.”

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  “What do you mean?” Xu Han asked.

  She fixed him with a look. “If adventurers start expecting the dungeon to give them whatever they want, what happens when it doesn’t? Imagine the fallout then. Every treasure must feel earned. It’s proof the adventurer was clever, or lucky, or just stubborn enough to win it. It cannot be some gift just because the adventurer asked nicely or is a favorite of the dungeon core. Treasures should never feel like political favors.”

  Xu Han turned it over in his mind. Jemma made some good points, but it felt extreme to Xu Han. In the Crimson Lands, cultivators often had disciples, and favouritism wasn’t rare. Sometimes, Masters even encouraged rivalry among their disciples to push everyone harder. “Jemma, what if adventurers just give up? What if they become convinced there’s nothing here for them and just walk away from the dungeon?”

  “Then they can try their luck in a different dungeon,” Jemma said, sounding like she’d learned this lesson the hard way. “Let me put it this way—say a [Mage] wants a powerful spell but choose to delve into The Challenger Arena. By your logic, if he just keeps going back, eventually the dungeon core will hand over the spell just because he wants it badly enough. But does that make sense? A dungeon created for [Warriors], [Fighters], [Knights] is just going to cough up a legendary magic spell because someone is persistent enough to ‘deserve’ it?”

  Xu Han frowned. “That… would be a nightmare.”

  “Fortune favors the bold, but adventurers have to pick the right place to test their luck.” Jemma said, her tone firm.

  Xu Han snorted. “That sounds like something you copied from your academy lectures, but I agree. Your teachers actually have a point.”

  Jemma nodded. “Dungeon cores aren’t [Kings]. They don’t hand out favors. They give treasures, and those treasures aren’t just loot—they’re proof of what the adventurer’s been through. When someone stumbles onto a rare find, the thrill is unbeatable. It’s not just the gold or power, it’s the rush. The shock of discovery. Chasing that feeling…that’s what keeps people coming back.”

  Xu Han paused, turning it over in his mind. “So, if adventurers knew the dungeon would eventually give them what they wanted, it would ruin that thrill. You’re saying the surprise that makes them cherish their victories more.”

  “Exactly,” Jemma said, her wings glowing with conviction. “Every chest they open, every secret room they find, is a new adventure. Dungeons are supposed to be unpredictable. That’s what makes them come alive. Start handing out custom treasures and you kill the magic.”

  Xu Han felt the truth of it settle in. He was certain Jemma was quoting her academy teachers, but that didn’t make her wrong. She was right. Her teachers were right. Dungeon cores could create anything, but treasure should always feel like a reward, not a guarantee. That’s what gives meaning to an adventurer.

  Xu Han understood that now. If he’d had a mouth, he’d have smiled. Instead, his core glowed brighter, chasing the shadows from the core room. “I get it now. It’s not just about the reward—it’s about the path an adventurer takes to find it. The journey is just as important as the destination at the end.”

  Jemma only nodded, silent but beaming with pride. Her dungeon core had taken a step in understanding what it means to be a dungeon core. For a moment, both were silent, letting the revelation sink in.

  “Jemma, you’re right. I’m sorry,” Xu Han said at last. “I promise, this won’t happen again and May the Heavens Strike Me Down if I go back on my word!”

  As he spoke, the vow rattled the dungeon. Jemma’s eyes went wide, wings fluttering with shock as it felt like a minor earthquake had hit the dungeon. Xu Han immediately knew what had happened.

  The Will of the World heard and accepted his oath.

  Back in the Crimson Lands, something similar had happened to Xu Han. He was no longer in the Crimson Lands. He was no longer a cultivator, but the reaction was similar.

  Xu Han laughed, the sound echoing off stone.

  This is a new world, but some things never changed. Maybe this world wasn’t so different from the Crimson Lands after all. If that was true, then maybe—well, that could wait. For now, Xu Han had a dungeon to run.

  With that, the dungeon core and his fairy watched over their domain, both eager to see what new adventures would unfold within the Tomb of Ten Thousand Techniques.