Liam was still standing in the middle of the crater he had created by stomping the ground with all his strength.
Dust lingered in the air, clinging to his skin and hair, though his body hardly seemed to register the mess.
Silverleaf glinted faintly in his hand, its edge alive with anticipation, almost as if it, too, were waiting for what came next.
He tightened his grip around the hilt. His chest rose and fell, calm but steady, while his mind whirred with expectation.
He could already achieve so much with telekinesis alone. The storm of stones earlier had proved that. The potential was vast, and he knew he had only scratched the surface.
But the Myriad Armament Constitution was something else entirely.
It was no ordinary gift. It was a supreme-grade talent, with infinite potential, one that legends would be built upon. A talent capable of turning him into the embodiment of all weapons, the master of every Dao of combat.
He exhaled slowly, clearing his head of stray thoughts. There was no need for distractions now.
His eyes snapped shut and he focused entirely on the sword in his hand, as if the whole barren realm had collapsed down into a single line of steel.
At first, it was subtle. It was a tingling in the atmosphere at first, but in the next heartbeat, it sharpened. The stillness of the Dimensional Space transformed into something biting and dangerous.
It was sword intent. It was extremely faint but it was undeniable.
If any cultivator had been present, they would have collapsed to their knees in terror. Sword intent was the fourth stage of sword mastery, the threshold where one stepped beyond technique and touched the Dao itself.
To wield sword intent was to embody the will of the blade — inevitability, sharpness, the principle of severing. A cultivator could spend decades in pursuit of that enlightenment and still fail.
And Liam had manifested it, faint though it was, he did it without cultivation, without training and ever having walked the path.
He opened his eyes and the sharpness intensified. The air around him prickled as if invisible edges were brushing against exposed skin.
Silverleaf vibrated faintly in his hand, resonating, as though it had finally found a wielder worthy of its name.
Liam raised the sword slightly and he let instinct guide him, and a slash came down.
Unlike what one would think, it was not random slash. It was impossibly smooth, refined, efficient — a motion no beginner should be capable of, yet carried out with the ease of breathing. Silverleaf seemed to sing as it cut downward. ᴛhis chapter is ᴜpdated by N()velFire.net
Dust and loose stones in the arc of the swing didn’t scatter. They were sheared cleanly in half. On the ground, the mark was unnatural in its perfection: a single, flawless line etched into the barren stone, as though carved by a master artisan with divine tools.
Liam’s lips curved into a smile. He hadn’t expected much from that first strike. He had never touched a real sword before, outside of Eternal Realms.
There was something Liam seemed to have realised; it wasn’t just the talent. His Formless Combat Doctrine was moving alongside it.
The stance he had taken before swinging, hadn’t been deliberate. It had been instinctive, unconscious, but strangely perfect. Too perfect if he’s to say.
Perhaps it was because his main weapon in Eternal Realms had always been the sword. The experience, the habits, the countless hours of virtual combat — all of it carried through into this body, fused with his Perfect Memory and amplified by the Myriad Armament Constitution.
And the result? A monster was created.
Liam let out a quiet laugh. He wasn’t being arrogant, neither was he flattering himself. It was simply the truth.
Perfect Memory meant he could replicate any technique he saw, no matter how complex, down to the smallest detail. The Formless Combat Doctrine gave him adaptability, the ability to flow like water through combat styles, never rigid, never predictable. And now, the Myriad Armament Constitution meant every weapon, every Dao of steel, would come to him as if it were his birthright.
Together, they formed a triad of perfection.
Unstoppable, Liam thought, his grin widening.
But he wasn’t finished. He wanted to see more.
Closing his eyes again, he gathered his telekinesis, shaping it carefully. He wrapped it around Silverleaf like a sheath, compressing the invisible force until it matched the blade’s every curve and edge. Then, with a sharp exhale, he slashed downward once more.
This time, the result was staggering.
The cut on the ground was deep — deeper than before — perfectly smooth, as if the earth itself had submitted willingly to the strike. The combination of raw telekinetic force and sword intent magnified one another, creating a resonance that felt... limitless.
Liam stared at the mark and nodded, satisfaction warming his chest.
"This is only the beginning," he murmured.
He looked at Silverleaf again, the sword floating up slightly from his hand, as if eager for the next command. For a moment, he let it hover there, spinning lazily in the air, before dismissing it with a thought.
His gaze drifted across the wasteland until it landed on one of the massive craters left behind by the earlier storm of stones. He walked toward it, his legs crunching against loose rubble.
At the crater’s edge, a jagged boulder sat half-buried, easily weighing several kilograms. He extended his hand.
The boulder trembled, then ripped free from the earth with a crack, dust and debris scattering as it floated into the air. Slowly and steadily, it drifted toward him.
When it was close enough, Liam reached up and caught it casually with one hand, hoisting it onto his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.
Liam couldn’t help but laugh to himself, as he knew this was only the start.
There were still countless weapons to test, countless Daos to touch. Sword intent was just the beginning. Spears, sabers, bows, axes, staves — all of them waited within the Myriad Armament Constitution, each ready to unfold in time.
He didn’t know how long it would take, or what trials he would face, but one truth had already rooted itself firmly in his heart.
He would never again be ordinary and he would never again be bound by the limits that chained others. The future — his future — was his to carve.
Shifting the massive rock on his shoulder, Liam turned and broke into a sprint across the barren plains. The workstation waited far in the distance.