The Eldravan Empire. Thornreach County.Deep inside a long-sealed chamber of the once-mighty House Hanwynn palace, a scream shattered the stillness.Kaelen Viremont jolted upright, gasping, eyes wide with terror.“Where… where am I?” His voice trembled as he took in the dimly lit room. Ornate furnishings surrounded him—elegant, alien. Confusion twisted his features.“Wasn’t I dead? What is this place?”Then, like a floodgate opening, alien memories surged through his mind. Vivid. Unstoppable. He clutched his head as the torrent consumed him. Moments later, his breath evened out. His gaze sharpened.“I… I’ve been reborn?”“And it’s… three thousand years in the future?” The words barely left his lips before disbelief shook them.He frowned. “How can I even be sure? These memories… foreign, yet carved into my soul.”Once, in another life, Kaelen had been the crown prince of the Empire of Creation—a divine empire ruling the Spirit Realm with unmatched might.But fate had cursed him. Born u

Kaelen’s eyes glimmered with quiet intensity.“Though the Divine Empire of Creation vanished three thousand years ago, my father once spoke of a hidden treasury,” he murmured to himself. “Deep within an unknown land, only he and a few trusted retainers knew the location. Inside… unimaginable wealth, ancient treasures…”But Kaelen shook his head. That pursuit was far beyond him—for now. His strength was still too limited.He turned to the elder before him, robes coarse, expression calm but serious. “What grade could that sword possibly be?” he wondered.Even a Yellow-grade sword—a step above Mortal-grade—would give him a huge boost in House Hanwynn.“Please… let it be that.”Clang!The sharp ring of steel echoed through the room as Kaelen drew the blade from its case. His heart sank immediately.“What? This… broken thing?”The sword was rusted, dull, edges chipped like it might crumble in a single strike. Kaelen’s face darkened.“You old geezer… are you messing with me?”The elder only

Darian Vexmoor, Deputy Commander of the Frostfang Mercenaries Group, Ninth Heaven cultivator… relentless. For days, he had tracked Kaelen, forcing the boy into constant retreat with his Wind Thunder Bow.This was no ordinary weapon. Forged from refined iron, runes etched along its limbs, the Xuan-grade bow carried lethal energy with every shot. Even Kaelen’s Bronze Battle Body couldn’t fully tank it. Evade or die—that was the choice.Crouched beside a blood-streaked forest trail, Darian’s golden eyes gleamed.“You can run all you want, kid… but you won’t get far,” he muttered.Above him, his eagle soared, scouting ahead. Every inch of the Vyrecrest Mountains was now Kaelen’s hunting ground. And his trap.Half a million silver coins dangled over Kaelen’s head—a bounty set by Kael Draven himself. Mercenaries drawn by greed swarmed the mountains, yet Darian wanted it all.“Why share the reward,” he whispered, “when I can have the glory—and the silver—for myself?”He followed the blood tra

The sun dipped low over the canyon, spilling molten gold across jagged cliffs. Kaelen Viremont’s white robes caught the light, gleaming so brightly he seemed less a man, more a young immortal walking on sunlight itself. Each step on the canyon floor carried quiet authority. The world bent subtly to his presence, though beneath that effortless grace lay an ancient solitude—a weight born of countless battles, past failures, and the venom still pumping through his veins.The Creation Divine Art pulsed relentlessly inside him, assimilating the demonic essence of the Venomous Mad Python. In just half a day, Kaelen had shattered two bottlenecks, reaching the pinnacle of the Ninth Heaven of the True Martial Realm. Each heartbeat sounded like thunder through the canyon. Mortals would have bowed—or fled.From the shadowed cave behind him, Seraphina stirred. She stepped into the fading light just as Kaelen paused, framed against the fiery sky. Breath caught. So radiant. So otherworldly. For a he

The Sword Sect. Legendary. Not just famous—they were untouchable. Most people wouldn’t dare breathe near them, let alone step into their path.Two disciples stood in the center, unmistakable. One neat, embroidered “Sword” on their cuffs. That alone screamed prodigy. But prodigy or not, the opposition didn’t care. Dozens of black-clad warriors circled them like wolves, moving with deadly precision. Inch by inch, the two were cornered, battered, pushed toward desperation.“Heaven-Earth Blazing Sun Sword!”The male disciple roared. The sound ripped through the air like a blade itself. His sword flared golden, light erupting along the edge like a miniature sun. A sword beam shot forward—ten meters, maybe more—splitting the sky like divine judgment.“Shield!”The black-clad warriors didn’t flinch. Shields flared with glowing runes, merging into a massive wall of darkness that swallowed the sunbeam effortlessly.“Junior Sister,” he growled, teeth clenched, muscles trembling, “their methods…