Chapter 38: Forty Six Tons of Pure Power

Near the edge of a waterfall covered in thick mist, four Shadow Soldier squads had just finished taking down a massive iron-scaled bear.

The beast was a Stage 6 Martial Warrior, and its huge body lay motionless beside the rushing water.

As the last strands of black smoke pulled the remaining life essence from its body and disappeared into the void, something suddenly changed.

All four squads stopped at the same time.

Through the soul link, an immense and suffocating pulse suddenly echoed from the direction of the city.

’Return,’ Lucian’s mental command thundered through the connection. ’Disengage and return quietly to the city.’

Without the slightest hesitation, all four hundred soldiers turned around. They didn’t waste a moment, disappearing into the undergrowth as they sprinted south toward Silverwood City at full speed.

...

Inside the training room of Sterling Manor.

The crimson light of dawn slowly slipped through the window and fell across Lucian’s motionless face.

At that exact moment, the final wave of essence from the iron-scaled bear crashed into his Soul Sea.

The obsidian Spiritual Seed had finally reached its absolute limit.

BOOM!

A muffled, concussive explosion erupted within Lucian’s Sea of Consciousness.

It wasn’t an actual sound, so nothing inside the room was damaged.

What Lucian felt was more like a powerful shockwave passing straight through his soul.

The dark spiritual energy that had been compressed inside his Soul Sea for so long suddenly erupted.

The final barrier of the Eighth Stage shattered.

In an instant, that overwhelming energy rushed through all 1,080 of his meridians, spreading through his body like a massive tsunami.

His meridians expanded, their walls reinforced by layer upon layer of dense, crystalline darkness.

His muscles tightened, and his tendons pulled taut like high-tension steel cables. The sheer density of his body increased so violently that the reinforced granite floor beneath his meditation cushion couldn’t withstand the pressure, cracking apart as spiderweb-like fractures spread outward in a five-meter radius.

Martial Warrior... Ninth Stage! Peak!

Lucian’s eyes snapped open.

Deep within his pupils, two rings of pure abyssal darkness flared with terrifying intensity before slowly fading back into a calm, deep obsidian.

He drew in a long, trembling breath.

He drew in a deep breath, and the air slipped into his lungs with a faint whistle. An incredible sense of vitality spread through his entire body, making every cell feel refreshed and alive. The power coursing through him was so overwhelming that, for a moment, he almost felt like he could tear the sky apart with his bare hands.

Lucian slowly uncrossed his legs and stood.

There was no stiffness in his body, no fatigue from two days of nonstop meditation. Every movement felt smooth and effortless.

He walked over to the military-grade strength-testing pillar in the corner. It was the same machine that had measured his punch at an impressive 5,100 kilograms right after his breakthrough.

Lucian planted his feet firmly and settled into a relaxed stance. This time, he didn’t draw on the dark spiritual energy within his Soul Sea, nor did he use the explosive footwork from the Blood Battle Saber Technique. He simply relied on his physical strength.

He simply pulled his right fist back and threw a casual, straightforward punch into the center of the crimson strike pad.

BANG—!

A deafening shockwave ripped through the chamber.

The heavy-duty alloy pillar, designed to withstand attacks from late-stage Martial Masters, violently lurched backward. The reinforced steel bolts anchoring its base to the concrete groaned under the impact, bending from the sheer force.

The digital screen atop the machine flickered wildly. Warning lights flashed across the panel before everything suddenly stabilized, revealing a staggering crimson number:

45,800 kg!

Nearly Forty six tons.

Forty six tons of pure physical strength, without any spiritual energy enhancement.

Normally, if a cultivator at the peak of the Ninth Stage Martial Warrior realm could throw a punch with 5,000 kilograms of force, they would already be considered an elite genius. Even those rare talents who had completed a Perfect Heavenly Cycle might only reach around 7,000 or 8,000 kilograms before condensing their core and breaking through to the Martial Master realm.

Yet Lucian was only at the Ninth Stage, and his raw physical strength alone was already enough to rival a mid-tier Martial Master who had fully activated their martial skills. What made it even more ridiculous was that he hadn’t used even a trace of his dark-attribute spiritual energy.

If he activated the Floating Pagoda Mysterious Skill and then added the explosive power of the True Martial Fist, his destructive force could easily surpass sixty tons.

Lucian lowered his fist and calmly looked at the dented alloy pad, his expression completely unchanged.

"Not bad," he murmured, flexing his fingers. "Forty-eight hours well spent."

Through the soul link, he sensed the four hundred Shadow Soldiers returning to the outer perimeter of the Sterling estate. One after another, they slipped back into his Martial Soul Space, merging with it as naturally as water returning to the ocean. Every soldier had been fully restored, and their dark scale mail now carried a refined, polished sheen.

Knock, knock, knock.

A soft, slightly hesitant knock came from the heavy wooden door of the training room.

"Lucian? Are you awake yet?"

Evelyn’s clear, melodious voice came from the other side of the door.

"The school transport will be here in an hour for the mock trials. If you keep sleeping like a pig, we’re going to be late!"

A genuine, relaxed smile returned to Lucian’s face, replacing the cold, lethal expression he had carried for the past two days.

He walked over and pulled open the door. Standing outside was a stunning young woman wearing a sharp, form-fitting black combat suit, her long hair tied into a high ponytail. She looked energetic and confident, with a beauty that was hard to ignore.

Lucian casually leaned against the doorframe, a playful smirk spreading across his face.

"Who are you calling a pig, wifey? I was just finishing my morning stretch."

Evelyn’s cheeks immediately turned crimson. She glared at him and raised a small, clenched fist in mock anger.

"You shameless bastard! Who said I’m your wifey? Now hurry up, wash your face, and get your gear ready. The mock trials are today. The entire school and the municipal examiners will be there."

Her expression became more serious, and a hint of genuine concern appeared in her clear eyes.

"Erin has been glaring at you for days, and his family has a lot of influence over the arena pairings. You need to be careful today."

Lucian glanced down at his clean, calloused palms before looking back into Evelyn’s worried eyes. Instead of showing any concern, his smile only grew wider.

"Don’t worry," Lucian said softly, his voice calm and steady. "Let them come. I’ve been waiting for them."