When Aeron Vale returned to the Grand Zen Temple, his presence stirred no waves.
Aside from the abbot and a few senior monks, no one even noticed his quiet return. He moved like a breeze through the temple grounds, his gray monk robes fluttering as he ascended to the third floor of the Sutra Pavilion—his long-time sanctuary of thought.
"Eight years left."
His eyes briefly scanned the translucent interface that lingered within his mind's eye—an arcane system granted to him when he crossed into this world. It reminded him, in no uncertain terms, that his time here was limited. Only eight of the twenty years remained.
"It's enough." Aeron nodded calmly.
In truth, he had already glimpsed the path that extended beyond the Mythic realm, a stage of cultivation that most would deem unreachable. With his Heaven-Defying Comprehension, a trait that let him understand martial laws faster and deeper than any other being, eight years was a wealth of time.
"The Martial Path of this world is... elegant."
Aeron's gaze turned inward as he reflected on the cultivation structure of this realm.
Here, the way of Martial Dao was rooted in the physical body—refining muscles, bone, blood, and spirit in tandem. It wasn't about shortcuts. It was slow. Relentless. Complete.
Compared to the Genetic Warrior system from the universal human civilizations—a route he was once intimately familiar with—Martial Dao had far greater potential.
Genetic Warriors were fast, yes. Take the drug, trigger a mutation, spike in strength. But they were also limited. Linear in design. Predictable in growth.
Against more versatile evolutionary types, like Mystics or Mental Adepts, Genetic Warriors often fell short unless fully prepared.
Aeron had long suspected that Martial Dao could become a recognized evolutionary path. But it wasn't just about that—it was about pushing the ceiling as high as possible before submitting it to the Goddess of Wisdom, the digital overseer of human evolution.
Only by showing true potential— both in breadth of use and height of mastery—could he earn the contribution points he needed to survive after returning to the Alliance.
"This world is temporary," Aeron reminded himself. "But what I build here... will decide my future."
And so, once again, he closed his eyes.
And began to comprehend.
---
His time in the Imperial Martial Palace had been priceless.
Over the course of a year, Aeron had absorbed the insights of thousands of martial techniques—from obscure countryside grapples to royal inner-force cultivation arts. Layer after layer, they refined his view of reality.
In the mental landscape of his spiritual sea, new techniques bloomed like galaxies.
[Heaven-Defying Comprehension activated. Your understanding of the world's martial paths has deepened.]
[You begin to grasp the underlying essence of natural law.]
[You create the Soul-Mist Refining Method.]
[You have perceived the thread to the realm beyond Mythic.]
Aeron barely stirred. Enlightenment had become a quiet companion.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Months, eventually, into years.
Eight years passed.
And then...
He opened his eyes.
"I've found it."
The realm above Mythic.
Not simply a leap in physical power, or an increase in spiritual capacity. It was integration. A convergence of all that Martial Dao represented—mind, body, energy, soul, and law.
"Now that I've walked to the edge of the world, I must step beyond it."
But first, Aeron stood and stretched. He had one more thing to do.
---
Outside, a quiet transformation had occurred.
The Martial World—once skeptical, even dismissive of the rumors about the mysterious monk who had toppled the Imperial Palace with a single roar—now knew the truth.
It was him. The disciple of the Grand Zen Temple. Aeron Vale.
At first, the name was whispered.
Then murmured.
Then revered.
When Aeron had stepped into the Martial Palace eight years ago and vanished from public sight, many believed he had passed into legend. But his identity eventually became undeniable.
The day he had shouted, "A poor monk wishes to see the Martial Hall," was heard by thousands. Eyewitnesses had confirmed the Emperor bowing to a monk in gray. Portraits sent to temples across the empire matched the features of Aeron exactly.
And when those Grandmasters who had faced him in private duels began to speak, the world listened.
They called him:
The First of All Great Grandmasters.
The Heaven-Slayer Monk.
The Living Law of Martial Dao.
With those words, the crowds came.
Thousands. Then tens of thousands.
Martial Artists from all walks of life flooded to Shaoshi Mountain, hoping for a glimpse, even a breath, of the man who had broken all known limits.
Some were there to learn.
Some to worship.
Some to challenge fate and beg for an opportunity.
And they were not alone.
---
One morning, a large, scarred man with a heavy blade across his back ascended the mountain.
Behind him, a youth of about twenty walked respectfully.
"Master," the youth asked, "are you going to challenge the monk again?"
The man was the South Sea Swordmaster.
And eight years ago, he had dared to enter the Martial Palace and face Aeron in battle.
He had been crushed.
But today, something was different.
There was depth in his eyes now. Power that vibrated in the air around him.
He had taken that defeat, internalized it—and used it to break his own limits.
He had become a Great Grandmaster.
In any other era, his arrival would have been legendary. Celebrated.
But now?
He felt... small.
"Not challenge. Just to watch," the Swordmaster replied quietly.
"To compare oneself to him is a mistake. That monk—he's not in our world anymore."
Suddenly, the Swordmaster's head snapped up.
The air changed.
A ripple of force passed through the mountain, like the pulse of a god exhaling.
It wasn't energy. It wasn't spirit.
It was everything.
"The breakthrough…" the Swordmaster whispered. "It's happening now."
---
Inside the Sutra Pavilion, Aeron opened his eyes.
Ten years of silent cultivation. Ten years of climbing toward the impossible.
He rose.
The doors to the pavilion creaked open as he stepped outside.
The abbot, the long-browed Grandmaster, and every head monk had gathered outside the building, waiting with bated breath.
And when they saw him, they bowed as one.
"Welcome back, Master."
Aeron gave a slight nod.
The abbot swallowed nervously, then asked what all of them wanted to know:
"Have you... broken through the limit?"
Aeron was quiet for a moment, then nodded.
"Something like that," he replied.
"Above the Great Grandmaster realm lies a stage we might call 'Mythic'. There, inner energy becomes something more—what I call 'Origin Force'."
He let the words hang in the air. Then continued.
"And beyond that… there is another level still. One where blood, spirit, and soul are unified. And from that unity... one begins to feel the will of heaven and earth."
The monks were stunned into silence.
For thousands of years, the Great Grandmaster had been the final destination.
Now, before them, was a man who had mapped two realms above that.
They didn't know what to say. Even those who had touched Grandmaster levels couldn't fathom it.
Aeron, seeing their awestruck expressions, gave a faint smile and dismissed them gently.
They needed time to digest. And frankly, he needed time too.
He walked slowly back into the pavilion and sat among the mountain of scrolls he had compiled.
Each one recorded the path—from Post-Natal to Mythic, and beyond.
It was his gift to this world.
A seed for the future.
Even if none in this era could follow it, one day, perhaps someone would.
---
Time passed.
Aeron wandered the land for a time, not for battle or knowledge, but simply to experience. His power was such that even heaven itself began to resist his presence.
He felt the world pushing back. A
s if it could sense he no longer belonged.
Then one day—
The light in the back of his mind flared.
The Gate of the Myriad Worlds opened.
His time was up.
---
(End of Chapter)
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