Chapter 46: Records

Ten strikes... If he withstood them, he became its master.

Theo’s vision blurred.

A phantom warrior materialized in his mind. The atmosphere turned deadly. The warrior slowly clasped his fists in salute. Theo gripped his chipped steel machete and returned the gesture.

The next moment, they clashed. The clang reverberated through the entire fourth level.

On the third level, all named weapons trembled faintly.

"Was that Theo’s doing?"

Kaelen glanced back at the dark entrance to the fourth level.

That single vibration sent shivers down his spine.

"What happened?"

Kaelen looked up. He clutched a broken halberd.

Under the Venerable’s guidance, he found this weapon. It was unremarkable among the named arms, missing half its shaft, yet forged from superior steel.

It was also one of the few willing to acknowledge him as its master.

Its spirit was weak and required future nurturing. Kaelen was satisfied.

Yet now, the halberd trembled faintly in response to that distant hum.

"Theo is crossing blades with a supreme artifact," the Venerable remarked casually in Kaelen’s mind.

"Crossing blades with a weapon?" Kaelen didn’t quite understand.

"The mightier the warrior, the stronger their spirit," the Venerable explained.

"Weapons tempered through years of slaughter become imbued with their wielder’s will."

"Do you know which weapon is the most renowned in the legendary Heavenly Mountain Manor?"

Eager to broaden his disciple’s horizons, the Venerable indulged in the tale.

"Enlighten me, Master." Kaelen listened with keen interest.

"An iron rod once wielded by the Martial Ancestor," the Venerable said, as if recalling it firsthand.

"It bore an entire lineage of unyielding intent."

"Centuries ago, it flew thousands of miles from its tomb, cleaved a mountain with one strike, and slew a flood dragon. To this day, the mountain remains split."

"A single strike, splitting a mountain for centuries?"

Kaelen gasped in awe.

Such a feat was beyond his current comprehension.

The Venerable, pleased by his disciple’s reaction, added to the lore.

"The Ancestor’s personal weapon is beyond any mere artifact."

"Still, that Crimson Edge is among the finest of its kind."

"Whether Theo can master it depends on whether he learned anything from that girl."

Crimson Edge. A perfect match for Frost-Bite.

Kaelen pressed his lips tight. He felt no envy. He only felt growing fondness for his own battered halberd.

...

Clang.

On the fourth level, Theo withstood the sixth strike in the mental realm.

The blade’s hum sent an electric jolt through his soul. It left his consciousness tingling.

Is this the aura of a supreme artifact?

Or the lingering will of its past wielder?

Theo recalled Liana’s words. If lingering obsessions could manifest as spectral beings, then a warrior forged from sheer will didn’t seem far-fetched.

"The hum seems to temper the spirit," he realized.

At first, the effect was faint. With each strike, the refining sensation grew clearer.

"Come on."

Theo steadied his breath and focused entirely on the duel.

Seventh strike. Eighth. Ninth.

These three were flawless, perfected tactical strikes.

After nine exchanges, his spirit felt invigorated. His mind sharpened.

Without Liana’s guidance and his system’s martial insights, he might have faltered here. He used to rely entirely on brute force.

It wasn’t surprising. Like solving advanced equations, without innate talent, one might never grasp the answer without a genius’s formula.

"Tenth strike."

The phantom warrior’s aura condensed. It turned lethally restrained.

Theo exhaled slowly. He poured every ounce of focus into this final clash.

...

The tenth hum echoed through the vault. It lingered like a reluctant sigh.

Outside the cave, Elder Silas stroked his beard. His expression was odd.

None understood the meaning of that hum better than him, the elder overseeing the Armory Peak.

The Crimson Edge acknowledged its master.

Yet, it seemed almost begrudging.

As if dissatisfied with Theo’s innate talent. Disdainful, yet compelled to serve due to his flawless execution.

Silas was thoroughly puzzled.

"Hah! Silas, both supreme artifacts are ours now!"

Vespera nearly danced in triumph. She barely restrained herself from planting her hands on her hips.

Silas remained impassive. "Frost-Bite belongs to Liana. What does that have to do with you?"

Vespera gazed at him with something akin to pity.

A vein throbbed in the elder’s forehead. That look was downright insulting.

"Anyway, Silas, even without Liana, that is still one," Vespera smirked.

"We had a bet, remember?"

"I will be generous. You don’t have to cover my debts. Just let me take scrap metal from the peak whenever I need for my lab."

"Humph. One cart a month!" Silas grumbled.

He couldn’t bring himself to argue further. Anyone who earned a supreme artifact’s recognition was no ordinary fighter.

Letting Vespera take scrap was still better than settling her astronomical debts.

Liana remained serene. Unsurprised.

This was the first time she truly taught someone. If her student couldn’t even claim a supreme artifact, she would have failed utterly.

"Crimson Edge..."

"Didn’t Liana wield Frost-Bite? If I recall, those two blades have a joint technique."

"I read records of it too."

Senior disciples of the peak exchanged glances. They recalled the legends.

The sect’s founder forged the twin blades. He gifted one to each of his two disciples.

The pair were deeply devoted lovers. They created a dual-strike art capable of transcending realms, renowned across the eastern domains.

After their passing, Frost-Bite and Crimson Edge never again acknowledged masters simultaneously.

The technique was lost to time. Its glory unseen for generations.

Now, the twin artifacts found new wielders.

All eyes turned to Liana.

Yet the jade-like maiden’s expression revealed nothing.

...

Meanwhile.

"Still playing hard to get, huh?"

Theo grinned. He gripped the heavy, crimson blade with delight.

His innate talent for weapons was lacking.

Yet here he was, having mastered consummate blade work.

Thus, the Crimson Edge reluctantly acknowledged him as its master.

Whether it was reluctant or not didn’t matter. As long as it worked, that was enough.

Theo didn’t care if the melon was sweet. As long as it quenched his thirst, it served its purpose. A tool was a tool.

"I have the tactical skills. Now I have a supreme blade."

Theo grinned in delight.

At this moment, his gaze turned toward the very end of the fourth level.

The entrance flickered with intertwined flames and gravity distortions.

The call from that direction grew ever stronger.

The matter of looking cool was already settled.

Now, it was time to focus on what could truly make him stronger.

"The Crucible of Genesis."

The glow from the cave entrance reflected in Theo’s eyes.

Though wielding a forge hammer wasn’t exactly standard, this was the origin of all weapons on the peak.

Moreover, it faintly resonated with his Flawless Abyssal Physique. It complemented his dense structure perfectly.

"It wants to go with me."

"But first, I need to get close enough to take it."

Theo stepped into the restricted tunnel.

Instantly, an overwhelming pressure bore down on him.

The scorching heat and the weaponized gravity made it nearly impossible to breathe.

Had he not made progress in body refinement and bathed in the Thunder God’s Marrow, he wouldn’t even have the right to stand here.

Thud.

He took a single step forward.

In that instant, a thunderous roar echoed through the void.

Every organ, meridian, and drop of blood in his body trembled under the force.

The sensation in his bones made one thing clear.

His physique had grown denser again.

"And I only took one step."

His understanding of the artifact’s power deepened.

What’s more, this was likely the result of the weapon holding back most of its pressure!

"Keep going."

Theo activated his Abyssal Physique. He took another step. At the same time, the sound of a hammer striking the earth reverberated in his ears!