Chapter 385 - 40: Selective Harvest

Chapter 385: Chapter 40: Selective Harvest

Ash reached the Martial Saint’s universe and stopped at the threshold.

He did not enter.

Instead, the Boundless Origin Martial Soul unfolded around his consciousness like a vast, transparent lens. From that higher vantage point he looked down upon the entire universe as though it were a single living diagram stretched beneath him. Galaxies spun in slow, wounded orbits. Star systems flickered like dying embers. Entire regions of space pulsed with residual violence, the fabric of reality still twitching from recent trauma. He could see everything at once, yet the scale remained overwhelming—too vast for any ordinary mind to hold without fracturing.

Even from above, the difference hit him.

Where most universes felt relatively stable, a section of this one trembled with violent aftershocks. Space itself looked bruised, compressed in some places until light bent strangely, stretched thin in others until distant stars appeared smeared across the void. Waves of destructive energy rolled through the emptiness like storms that had forgotten how to end. The entire region of space around the Martial Saint vibrated with leftover force, as if the universe itself was still recovering from wounds that refused to close.

Through the resonance of their shared origin, Ash felt every detonation as if it were happening against his own soul. The pressure was not abstract. It was intimate. Every fracture in space echoed in the deeper layers of his martial soul. Every collapsed star left a faint, ghostly bruise across his spiritual sense.

He focused on the strongest source of that energy and found the Martial Saint almost immediately.

The man who looked like an older, sharper version of himself was locked in battle with another warrior of similar power. Their fight was not taking place on a planet or even in a single star system. It stretched across multiple barren systems at once. Every exchange tore open new wounds in reality.

Ash remained at his elevated viewpoint and simply watched for a few seconds, letting the residual shockwaves wash through the resonance.

A single clash between the two fighters detonated a dying sun. The explosion bloomed outward in perfect silence, swallowing three nearby planets that had already been reduced to cracked husks. Space fractured like glass under pressure. Long tears of pure blackness spread outward, and from those tears raw energy leaked in chaotic streams. Matter caught at the edges of the battle simply ceased to exist. It did not burn or break apart. It came apart into its most basic particles and then vanished, as though the universe itself had decided those atoms no longer deserved to remain.

Both combatants moved far beyond anything Ash could track with ordinary perception. From his higher viewpoint he could not follow their actual bodies—only the destruction they left behind. One moment a star system was still partially intact, its outer planets spinning in wounded silence. The next moment it was a spreading cloud of debris and twisted space. Supernovas bloomed one after another like fireworks set off by angry gods.

They were not using Intents.

They were using Laws.

Ash felt the distinction clearly through the resonance. Where he still shaped the world with refined Intent, these two warriors imposed complete Laws upon reality itself. Sword Law, Destruction Law, Force Law—each exchange rewrote the local rules of existence for a heartbeat before the universe struggled to reassert itself. The pressure of true Laws pressed against Ash’s soul even from above, heavy and absolute. It was the difference between asking the world to change and commanding it to obey.

The Martial Saint was winning.

Even through the chaos Ash could feel the pressure of his presence dominating the exchange. Every major detonation that favored him pushed the enemy further back. The older version of himself moved with a terrifying economy of motion—no wasted gestures, no flourishes, only the precise application of overwhelming force. Yet the fight remained extremely dangerous. One mistake on either side could erase entire regions of the local galaxy.

Ash observed the scale of it with quiet awe.

"This is what Rank 9 actually looks like," he said under his breath. His voice sounded small against the silent cataclysm. "No wonder the old man set the Omni Combat Art aside. At this level the art’s Rank 4 ceiling really would feel too small. They’re not even using Intents anymore. They’re using full Laws. Sword Law that cuts concepts. Destruction Law that unmakes matter before it can even register pain. Force Law that treats distance like a suggestion."

He watched a particularly vicious exchange where the Martial Saint’s blade—more concept than physical weapon—carved a clean line through three collapsing star systems at once. The enemy warrior barely escaped by sacrificing an entire moon as a decoy. The moon simply ceased to exist mid-explosion, its mass converted into pure kinetic Law that the Martial Saint casually redirected into the void.

Ash shook off the feeling of awe before it could settle too deeply.

There was nothing useful he could gain from standing here as a spectator. The techniques and Laws they were using were far beyond what he could currently copy in detail, and the pure destructive power on display would not help him in Training Room Seven. He had come here for something specific.

He turned his attention inward and focused on the Martial Saint’s soul through the Boundless Origin Martial Soul.

Thanks to the new comprehension talent and his growing familiarity with the Boundless martial soul, the process felt cleaner than the first jump. He no longer had to swallow everything blindly. He could choose.

Ash reached out and began the resonance with deliberate precision.

The connection formed like two identical notes vibrating in harmony across impossible distances. For a brief, disorienting moment he felt the Martial Saint’s awareness brush against his own—sharp, ancient, and currently occupied with not dying. Then the older self’s attention moved on, dismissing the faint echo as nothing more than residual battle feedback.

Ash ignored personal memories. He ignored emotional impressions. He ignored the details of the ongoing fight—the flash of irritation when the enemy used a cheap spatial trap, the cold calculation behind every counter. Instead he searched only for what he needed: Intents that could be fed into the Omni Combat Art, fragments of higher Laws, and martial or cultivation techniques that would still be useful at his current stage and beyond, and also fused into the Omni Combat Art.

The connection deepened.

Useful knowledge began to flow.

New layers of Sword Intent, Fire Intent, and Space Intent settled into him, deeper and more refined than what he already held. The sixty percent mastery he had gained earlier suddenly felt shallow—like the difference between knowing how to swing a sword and understanding why the blade wanted to cut. These new layers carried clearer principles, sharper definitions, and more complete pathways—echoes of the higher Laws the Martial Saint wielded, distilled down into forms Ash could still grasp. He felt the exact angle at which Sword Intent became inevitable, the precise temperature at which Fire Intent stopped being heat and started being pure annihilation, the subtle fold in Space Intent that allowed one to step between moments rather than merely between places.

Fragments of other Intents—ones he had not yet touched—brushed against his soul and left clear imprints. Gravity Intent settled into him like a quiet, relentless weight, teaching him how mass could be persuaded to forget its own direction. Metal Intent arrived cold and precise, carrying the memory of blades that had never been forged yet somehow already existed. And something that felt like pure Force—raw, directionless pressure that could be shaped into any form—left a deep, humming resonance in the core of his martial soul.

Pieces of higher Laws related to force, destruction, and structure followed, incomplete but coherent enough to guide future comprehension. Complete techniques designed for body refinement, energy circulation, and combat application arrived in orderly sequences, ready to be broken down and absorbed into the Omni Combat Art later. One technique in particular caught his attention: a method of circulating energy through the bones themselves so that every movement carried residual Force Intent. Another taught a breathing cycle that refined the blood until it could temporarily store and release higher-order Intent. A third described a way of folding Space Intent into the meridians so that every step could become a short-range spatial fold.

Ash took everything that met his criteria and left the rest.

He worked steadily, watching his mental energy drain with careful attention. The new Rank 10 recovery methods still sat unused in his mind; he had not yet learned them, so he could not rely on them here. He had only the reserves he had brought with him.

When those reserves dropped to a dangerous level—when the edges of his consciousness began to fray and the higher viewpoint started to look a little too inviting—he stopped.

The flow of knowledge ceased.

Ash checked what he had gained and gave a small, satisfied nod inside his consciousness.

"This should be enough fuel for a few months at least," he said quietly. "Sword, Fire, and Space just got a serious upgrade. Gravity, Metal, and pure Force to play with later. Fragments of higher Laws to study. Some solid techniques that will fit right into the Omni Combat Art once I break them down. Not bad for a quick visit."

He withdrew from the resonance and looked back toward the battle from his elevated viewpoint.

The fight had ended.

The Martial Saint floated alone in a region of almost completely shattered space. The enemy warrior was gone. Several weaker signatures that had not been there before were also fading into the distance, some of them heavily wounded. The void around the Martial Saint was a graveyard of broken stars and drifting planetary debris.

"Oh," Ash murmured. "The battle has ended."

He frowned slightly.

"Let’s see what happened."

Ash used the Boundless Origin Martial Soul to look slightly backward in time.

The final sequence played out clearly.

---

The original opponent—a broad-shouldered man whose Law of Destruction left trails of unraveling matter wherever he moved—had been pushed to the edge of a collapsing star cluster. His breathing was ragged. Blood the color of liquid night leaked from a wound that refused to close. Sword Law still clung to the injury, continuously cutting the edges so that recovery remained impossible.

He gritted his teeth and slammed a hand against a transmission token that hung at his waist.

"All of you—get over here. Now. He’s stronger than the reports said. I’m not dying alone."

Three spatial tunnels tore open almost simultaneously.

The first warrior to step through was a woman whose eyes glowed with the cold light of Gravity Law. Space bent around her like a living thing. Behind her came a thin man whose entire body radiated the sharp, reflective pressure of Metal Law, and a third figure whose presence felt like pure Force given form—heavy, crushing, absolute.

They took one look at the battlefield and understood.

"You called us for this?" the woman said, her voice calm but edged. "You were supposed to finish him alone."

"Well he is stronger than expected," the original opponent snarled. "Just do it. Surround him. We end this now."

The Martial Saint hovered in the center of the broken systems, sword resting loosely at his side. He did not look surprised. He did not look afraid. He only looked... tired.

"Four against one," he said quietly. His voice carried across the shattered void without needing volume. "No challenge. No declaration. Just numbers. You and your organisation truly really are scum."

The thin man with Metal Law laughed. "Martial etiquette is for people who can afford to lose. You should have stayed in your own territory."

They moved as one.