Chapter 441 Handler

After that day, Evelyn and Monique began joining the daily training sessions without fail.

What started as simple curiosity quickly turned into genuine dedication.

Not long after, the three top maidservants followed as well, their loyalty extending beyond household duties and into cultivation itself.

The once quiet training grounds soon became a place of constant motion and disciplined intensity.

Dale and Francis watched from the sidelines, disbelief written plainly across their faces.

At first, they thought it was nothing more than light practice—perhaps a few stretches or basic stances.

But once the five women began training in earnest, any such thoughts were instantly shattered.

Under Valery's guidance, their movements sharpened at an alarming pace.

Techniques that should have taken months to grasp were learned within days.

Corrections were made almost immediately, mistakes vanishing after a single demonstration.

Each strike flowed seamlessly into the next, their footwork precise, their breathing perfectly controlled. ℯ

"Is this real…? Am I seeing this correctly?" Dale muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before his eyes, his mothers and the three maidservants had transformed into blurs of motion.

Their figures flickered across the training ground, appearing and disappearing in the span of a heartbeat.

The air cracked with the sound of displaced wind, and even their casual movements carried a pressure that made Dale's skin prickle.

Their reflexes had long surpassed human limits—this was no longer something that could be explained away as mere physical talent.

"Tell me this isn't happening," Francis said hoarsely. "This has to be a joke… right?"

Yet no matter how hard he stared, reality refused to bend to his wishes.

The speed, the coordination, the raw physical prowess on display were overwhelming.

Valery's commands rang out calmly, and each time she adjusted a stance or corrected a motion, the improvement was immediate and terrifyingly obvious.

Francis turned to look at his brother, searching for reassurance.

When their eyes met, he found the same stunned helplessness reflected back at him.

At the very least, he wasn't alone in this.

Being the weakest in the household suddenly felt like a shared fate rather than a personal failure.

That realization made him smile faintly—even as a quiet sense of urgency began to take root in his chest.

***

Five years passed as if they were nothing more than drifting clouds, yet the changes that took place during that time were anything but small.

At the end of that long, relentless cultivation, Riley finally broke through into the Seventh Realm of the Desolate Great Ape Transformation—a realm few had ever reached, and even fewer had survived.

"AHHHHHH—!"

A deafening roar erupted from his cultivation room, shaking the walls as Riley doubled over.

His muscles expanded violently, veins bulging like twisted serpents beneath his skin.

His blood felt as though it had ignited, burning hotter than molten metal as it thundered through his veins.

Every heartbeat sounded like a war drum.

Crack—crack—crack!

His bones groaned and realigned, growing denser and heavier with each pulse of energy.

The air around him distorted, unable to withstand the sheer vitality flooding out of his body.

Even the formation arrays etched into the walls flickered, struggling to suppress the pressure leaking from him.

Pain followed power.

His flesh tore, only to regenerate instantly.

Skin split open along his arms and chest, then sealed itself as if it had never been damaged at all.

Riley watched in stunned disbelief as his wounds healed faster than his mind could register.

At that moment, a terrifying realization dawned on him.

If his arm were severed now, it would grow back within moments—no, within breaths.

Even if his body were reduced to nothing but a single surviving cell, that cell would multiply endlessly, reconstructing him again and again at an almost infinite pace.

Death had become… optional.

Riley sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening as he clenched his fists.

The ground beneath his feet cracked under the unconscious release of his strength.

A simple flex of his muscles sent ripples through the room, the floor spiderwebbing outward as if struck by an invisible hammer.

This was not strength gained through technique alone.

This was absolute vitality.

Power so dense and overwhelming that it felt as if his body itself had become an indestructible weapon.

His senses sharpened drastically—he could hear the faint hum of formations outside the room, feel the pulse of life within the walls, even sense the flow of energy far beyond the estate.

Riley straightened slowly, breathing deeply as he forced the rampant power to settle.

Even restrained, his presence alone weighed heavily on the space around him, as if the world instinctively recognized him as a calamity.

The Seventh Realm.

A realm where the body defied logic, where regeneration bordered on immortality, and where strength ceased to have a clear upper limit.

Riley lowered his gaze, a faint, dangerous smile forming on his lips.

But of course, that was not the end of Riley's cultivation journey.

After breaking into the Seventh Realm of the Desolate Great Ape Transformation, Riley continued to seclude himself for countless days, relentlessly tempering his body.

Day after day, he circulated the technique, refining his blood, bones, and flesh until even the smallest movements carried terrifying power.

Yet no matter how much effort he poured into it, the breakthrough he sought never came.

Progress slowed but he never stopped or gave up.

Then, on an otherwise ordinary morning, fate intervened.

Sunlight filtered gently into the dining hall as Riley sat with his family, the atmosphere peaceful and unhurried.

Servants moved quietly in the background, and for a brief moment, it felt as though the world beyond their walls did not exist.

That illusion shattered when hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.

A maidservant burst into the room, her face drained of color and her breathing ragged, as though she had run without pause.

"Master!" she exclaimed, immediately dropping to one knee. "Dire news has arrived. We have received confirmed information that an army of savages is advancing toward this region. They have already conquered three cities, leaving nothing but ruins in their wake. Based on their current pace, they could reach us in as little as one month—or, at the latest, within a year."

The words struck like a thunderbolt.

The room fell deathly silent.

Riley calmly lifted his gaze and gave a slow nod. "Hmm…"

That single sound carried no fear, no urgency—only acknowledgment.

However, his reaction only made the contrast sharper.

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her teacup, her knuckles turning white. Monique inhaled sharply, her composure cracking as worry flooded her eyes.

The warmth of the morning vanished, replaced by a suffocating pressure that weighed heavily on everyone present.

"What should we do, husband?" Evelyn asked, unable to hide the tremor in her voice. "If the reports are true…"

"We still have time," Monique said quickly, forcing herself to think clearly. "We could evacuate the city and retreat to Deep Coast City. Its defenses are strong, and it would be safer for everyone."

All eyes turned toward Riley.

Yet he did not speak.

Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hands.

His movements were controlled to the extreme, each motion precise, as though even the slightest mistake could unleash a force too great to contain.

Since entering the Seventh Realm, the backlash of the Desolate Great Ape Transformation had stolen his voice, rendering him permanently mute.

Words were no longer something he could rely on.

Instead, Riley reached for a sheet of paper and a brush resting nearby.

He dipped the brush into ink and began to write, each stroke steady and unshaken despite the weight of the situation.

He used his divine sense to move his arms and fingers.

Do not fear.

Three simple words.

Yet as they were read aloud, something changed.

The panic in the room eased.

Evelyn's breathing gradually steadied, and Monique felt her racing thoughts slow.

Even the maidservant lowered her head slightly, comforted by the calm authority behind those words.

Riley set the brush down and looked at each of them in turn. His gaze was deep and unwavering, carrying a confidence that could not be shaken by armies or calamities.

He had no intention of fleeing.

If the savages truly came—

then the city would not stand alone.

Riley continued his training without pause.

As time slipped by, days turned into months, and the situation within White Bone City steadily deteriorated.

What had once been anxious whispers soon escalated into full-blown panic.

Rumors spread like wildfire through the streets, growing more exaggerated with each retelling.

Markets became chaotic, guards doubled their patrols, and sleepless nights became the norm.

People grew restless.

One by one, families began to leave the city, unwilling to gamble their lives on uncertain defenses.

Caravans formed at the gates at dawn, packed with everything their owners could carry.

Those with wealth fled early, while others followed in desperation, hoping to escape the oncoming army of savages before it was too late.

White Bone City, once bustling and proud, slowly began to feel… hollow.

Yet amidst the fear and chaos, Riley remained unmoved—continuing his training as if the world outside had not already begun to collapse.