Chapter 672: Training in Sword Arts

"Max, we are doing this for your own good!" Garp shouted, his tone growing sharp with frustration as Max’s laughter rang out, echoing in the open space outside the Empire Library.

The smug confidence on Max’s face was clearly getting under their skin. "By coming under the banner of Danzun, nobody can bully you. You’ll be protected. Do you even understand the kind of opportunity this is?"

Max’s sneer was cold, almost mocking. His red-pink eyes, sharp as blades, glanced over the trio with pure disdain.

He wasn’t impressed—not by their words, not by their posturing, and definitely not by the name they kept throwing around like it was a divine shield. "Danzun? What Danzun?" he replied, casually brushing past them, not even bothering to give the name weight. "Never heard of him."

Then he paused mid-step, turned his head slightly, and spoke flatly, "Now, if you three can step aside, I’ve got things to do."

That single sentence hit harder than a slap. Hank’s expression twisted into a sneer, eyes narrowing dangerously as the tension in the air grew thick. He exchanged a look with Garp and Lewis, and all three took a step forward in sync.

"Kid..." Hank said slowly, his voice dropping to a low growl, "what we were doing was for your own good, but since you don’t want it—then it’s even better."

The air grew heavier, crackling faintly as the three Master Rank geniuses prepared to teach the new recruit a lesson.

Hank’s lips curled with a hint of excitement. "Brothers, it’s been a while since someone in the 1-star sector dared to go against us. Let’s remind him what kind of place this is."

The crowd watching from the sidelines held their breath. They had seen it before—those who resisted, those who thought they could stand tall—only to be crushed under the heel of Danzun’s dogs.

Lewis smiled eerily, his eyes gleaming with cruelty as he cracked his knuckles. "Let me teach him a lesson!" he said, and without waiting for agreement, dashed forward like a blur, his fist raised high.

He didn’t even consider using a weapon. In his mind, there was no need—Max was just an Expert Rank, a nobody. One punch was all it would take.

Max didn’t move. He didn’t dodge. Instead, he calmly stepped forward and raised his own fist, meeting Lewis head-on.

Crack!

The sound of bone snapping echoed like thunder, and the next instant, Lewis’s scream tore through the air, loud and sharp like a pig being butchered. His body was blown backwards, crashing hard into the stone pavement. His right arm bent at an unnatural angle, bones clearly broken and twisted, his expression contorted in agony.

Garp and Hank’s expressions changed instantly. "How dare you!" they shouted, their faces twisted with fury.

Their weapons appeared in a flash—Garp drew a sword wreathed in flames, while Hank summoned a long spear wrapped in howling wind. With violent momentum, they charged at Max, their Concept-infused weapons gleaming with lethal power.

Max’s eyes flashed coldly. He clenched his right fist again, and before either of them could blink, he dashed forward and punched twice—once at each of them.

Bam! Bam!

Both Garp and Hank were launched like ragdolls, their weapons flying from their hands. Their bodies rolled across the ground in ragged arcs, bouncing and skidding before coming to a painful stop. Groans escaped their mouths as they writhed on the ground, stunned, dazed, and humiliated.

Max stepped forward, his eyes glowing faintly as he released a wave of oppressive aura from his green Soul. His voice was low, but it cut through the silence like a blade. "I warn you... don’t come after me again."

The two could only nod frantically, faces pale, cold sweat pouring down their backs. They didn’t even dare to speak.

Max turned and walked away without another word, his back straight, his footsteps calm and unhurried. The crowd watching the scene stood frozen, their eyes wide in disbelief, mouths agape. No one expected that result.

The supposed victim had turned into a monster before their very eyes—and just like that, Max vanished from view, leaving behind three defeated peak Master Rank geniuses and a stunned, silent street.

***

Back in his house, Max didn’t waste a single moment. The door had barely shut behind him when he entered his Dimension of Time.

He knew that leveling up to Master Rank would require not only strength but also time and refinement, and so he made a decision—to sharpen his blade first.

Specifically, he focused on two techniques he hadn’t practiced a bit yet: the Crimson Burial Sword Art, a flame-element sword art brimming with destructive elegance, and the Heaven-Piercing Thunderclap Sword, a lightning-element sword art that roared with raw, unrestrained speed.

He hadn’t practiced either of them yet, but now, surrounded by the calm timelessness of his personal realm, he committed himself entirely to mastering them.

Days turned into a week within that space, and by the time he emerged from his relentless training, both sword techniques had reached Perfection Stage, their forms etched deep into his muscle memory and soul.

The fierce blaze of Crimson Burial danced through his strikes, while Heaven-Piercing Thunderclap Sword crackled with blinding ferocity.

At the same time, he worked on improving the Phantom Devour Claw, his newly acquired combat skill. Though it was a Legendary Rank skill, its growth was agonizingly slow—expected, given its tier and his own requirements. Still, he pushed it to level 30, knowing that every level would make it that much deadlier.

Even for someone like Max, who had access to a time-accelerated dimension, Legendary Rank skills remained a grind. But he didn’t mind. Every drop of effort was an investment into the goal that burned within him—to rise to the very top.

"Now, I’ve learned everything I have in my arsenal aside from the Star Flame Art," Max muttered as he walked through the quiet halls of his house. His mind was calm, his aura restrained, but within, a storm of determination brewed.

The Star Flame Art—the final technique he had yet to grasp—required a very unique condition to train. Unlike ordinary flame arts, it drew power not from worldly flames, but from the energy of distant stars scattered across the vast skies of space.

Only in places saturated with star energy, where celestial power bled naturally into the atmosphere, could one hope to comprehend and wield that technique. And unfortunately, he hadn’t yet found such a place.

Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside and focused on the more pressing matter at hand. "Now, all that remains is to level up to Master Rank," he said, his voice low with resolve.

In the past month, despite his progress, he had only advanced two levels just before the recruitment assessment of the Great Ruler Empire, bringing him closer but still far from the threshold of a breakthrough.

8th level of Expert Rank.

And he could feel it—the wall. That silent, invisible wall that every expert hit before leaping into a new major realm. "Should I use my privilege of entering the Conceptual Cave for a session in the Mana Condensed Pool?" he mused aloud.

He wanted to exchange his privilege to enter the Conceptual Cave for Mana Condensed Pool.