My attributes are increasing infinitely - Chapter 437: The Land of the Ancients
Chapter 437: The Land of the Ancients
The atmosphere in the grand auction hall of the Dragon World was so thick with tension you could cut it with a blade.
Ethan stood at the center of the stage, his expression was unreadable, though inwardly he was savoring every moment.
To the thousands of beings gathered here, he was a merchant of miracles, a man who could sell you the power of a god for the right price.
But to Ethan, this was more than a business venture.
It was a biological takeover.
Every serum he sold, every technique he passed on, was laced with a hidden purpose.
He wanted his own essence, his very bloodline, to flow through the veins of every major race in this “cage.”
The gods who ruled this reality thought of these mortals as their private power source, their fuel.
Ethan intended to steal that fuel from the inside out.
By the time he was ready to ascend beyond the boundaries of this world, the “people of the gods” would actually be his people.
“You played with my family and my emotions,” Ethan thought, a chilling, razor-sharp smile tugging at his lips.
“Now, I’ll play with your entire existence.”
Ethan cleared his throat, the sound echoing through the silent hall.
“Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, let’s begin the next phase.”
He reached into the spatial void and pulled out three weapons.
They hummed with a terrifying, rhythmic pulse.
The Eternal Weapons.
In any other corner of the universe, these would have caused a bloodbath.
However, the crowd today was different.
The seats weren’t just filled with Eternal Sovereigns.
They were occupied by Source Authority level beings, the true heavyweights of the cosmos.
To these titans, the Eternal Weapons were nice toys, but they weren’t “the one.”
They knew Ethan was hiding something much more potent.
Still, the bidding was fierce among the lesser lords.
“Thirty billion origin coins!” shouted a representative from the Star-Devourer clan.
“Thirty-five billion!” countered a Golden Dragon elder.
In the end, each weapon sold for a staggering 40 billion origin coins.
Ethan didn’t blink.
To him, this was just the warm-up.
“It seems you are all waiting for the big guns,” Ethan said, his voice smooth and teasing.
“But before that, let’s sell the serums.”
“We shall begin the sale of the Bloodline Evolution Serums and Bloodlone Awakening Serum.”
The room exploded.
The lesser races went into a frenzy.
For them, these serums weren’t just power.
They were a chance to change their destiny, to stop being the “underdogs” of the universe.
Even the Origin Races, the elites who looked down on everyone else, were leaned forward in their seats.
They had heirs with broken or diluted bloodlines.
These serums represented the restoration of their clan’s glory.
The coins poured in like a digital ocean.
Ethan watched the numbers climb, but his mind was already on the next item.
“Now,” Ethan said, his voice dropping to a whisper that somehow reached every ear in the stadium.
“Let’s bring out the treasure you actually came for.”
He reached out and produced a violin.
It didn’t look like a weapon of war.
It was elegant, crafted from materials that seemed to absorb the light around them.
But the moment it appeared, the Source Authority rulers straightened their backs.
They could feel the resonance.
It wasn’t just a musical instrument.
It was a conduit for the very fabric of reality.
Before the first bid could be uttered, the world stopped.
A weight, heavy as a collapsing star, pressed down on every living soul in the Dragon World.
It wasn’t just physical pressure.
It was a spiritual suppression so vast it felt like the universe itself was closing its eyes.
The Source Authority rulers, the strongest beings in the room, found themselves gasping for air, their knees buckling.
Ethan felt it too, but he didn’t buckle.
His own strength had already stepped into the realm of Grade 2 Absolute Continuum.
To him, this aura was like a strong breeze, annoying, but not a threat.
“An Absolute Continuum being,” Ethan mused, his eyes narrowing.
“On par with the One Above All.”
Outside the atmosphere of the Dragon World, a massive shadow blotted out the suns.
A Void Ship, ancient and jagged, carved from a material that predated the stars, hovered in the vacuum.
Inside the hall, a Demon Monarch began to hyperventilate.
His eyes were wide with a terror that went beyond the fear of death.
“No… it can’t be. Why are they here? Why would the Ancients come out now?”
Ethan communicated mentally.
“Yumiko, give me the rundown. Who are these ’Ancients’?”
[Master,] Yumiko’s voice echoed in his mind, [The Ancients are anomalies.
They are not creations of the gods who built this cage.
Their DNA is older than the cage itself.
They were the original inhabitants of this space before the current gods locked them away in the Land of the Ancients.
They are only permitted to leave their exile once every 100 million years.
They are a race that resembles demons, but they are… more.
They have multiple Absolute Continuum beings.
They are essentially a sovereign nation within a prison.]
Ethan looked at the sky.
“Why haven’t they just forced their way in?”
[They cannot,] Yumiko explained.
[The laws of this Origin World are strict.
Even they require permission from a recognized authority of this world to step foot on the soil.]
Suddenly, a voice boomed from the heavens, vibrating through the bones of everyone present.
It didn’t come from a throat.
It came from the void itself.
“Tower Master Ethan Hunt. We seek entry.”
“Allow us to participate in your auction, and in exchange, we shall grant you passage to the Land of the Ancients.”
The Demon Monarchs in the room turned pale.
“Ethan isn’t related to them? Isn’t he their agent?” they whispered in hushed, terrified tones.
Ethan didn’t miss a beat.
He looked up, his gaze piercing through the roof of the hall and the clouds above.
“Sure,” he said calmly.
“Come in.”
“No!” a demon ruler screamed, falling to his knees.
“By letting them in, you’ve signed our death warrants!”
“No one leaves the presence of the Ancients alive!”
Ethan ignored the hysterics.
He wasn’t afraid of monsters.
He was the one who bought and sold them.
The Void Ship descended, landing with a silent, eerie grace in front of Ethan’s tower.
The air around the ship shimmered with distorted reality.
Seven figures stepped out.
Six of them radiated power that made the local rulers look like children.
Five Source Authority beings and one Absolute Continuum guardian.
But it was the seventh figure who drew everyone’s attention.
He was a young man, seemingly devoid of any cultivation.
He had no aura, no visible power.
Yet, the six giants behind him walked two steps back in a gesture of absolute submission.
“Yumiko?” Ethan asked.
[That is the son of the Great Ruler of the Ancient Race or as they call themselves, the Daemons.
He cannot cultivate energy in the traditional sense, but he is an eternal being with a mind that can simulate entire universes.
He is the strategist, the heart of their race.]
The group entered the auction hall.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea.
“Welcome to Ethan Hunt Company,” Ethan said, standing his ground as the Daemons approached.
“Would you like VIP seating, or will the floor suffice?”
The cultivation-less boy stopped and looked Ethan in the eye.
There was no arrogance in his gaze.
Only a deep, analytical curiosity.
“Brother,” the boy said, his voice surprisingly soft.
“You are not a demon, yet I cannot place your origin.”
“I would like to speak with you in private.”
“After the auction,” Ethan replied.
“Business first.”
“You are welcome to bid.”
The boy nodded, then looked at the items on the stage.
“Brother, sell me your bloodline refining technique.”
“I will not pay in coins.”
“I will give you a Free Pass.”
“It will allow your people to enter our land and challenge the Tower of the Ancients.”
The hall gasped.
The Demon Monarch who had been crying earlier suddenly threw himself at the boy’s feet.
“Sir! Please! Take my wealth! Give me a chance at the Tower!”
The Daemon boy didn’t even look down.
It was as if the Monarch didn’t exist.
Ethan tilted his head.
“The Tower of the Ancients? What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” the boy said.
“If you survive the challenge, you are guaranteed to reach the Source Authority realm.”
“In my race, the Daemons, there is no one who is not at least at that level.”
“We are a race of sovereigns.”
Ethan’s interest was officially piqued.
A race where the baseline was Source Authority?
That was a terrifying prospect, but also a goldmine of genetic information.
“The technique I have,” Ethan cautioned,
“was designed for the races of this world.”
“You Daemons are fundamentally different.”
“I don’t know if it will work on your biology.”
The boy had a surprised look on his face.
“You can tell?”, then he smiled.
It was a dry, intelligent expression.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to use it.”
“I want to study it.”
