Caden woke up in his room, feeling a little heavy in the head. Like he didn't have enough sleep. Which he just had. He doesn't know the reason. While also musing to himself about the conversations from last night.
"Huuhhh… I tried to lighten the talk and make sure those two didn't question me excessively—especially that doctor. I'm sure he was waiting to drag me into his lab for a full-body scan."
He knew he should feel nervous, even panicked, about what was coming. But strangely, he wasn't. Forget nervous—he wasn't panicking at all. Strictly speaking, he could even say he felt confident about facing whatever came his way. It wasn't grounded confidence; it was closer to blind faith. Still, that explained his tone and behavior.
The doctor had no authority over a prince. His role was to ensure nothing happened to Caden. But since Caden himself had told him to back off, there was nothing the man could do.
After getting up, Caden showered first—always the priority—then ordered food. It was delivered directly, sparing him from unnecessary company. But he had little interest in food. What he wanted was to test his bloodline power or body, as he had no idea how to activate the bloodline power or what kind of power he obtained.
Leaving his room, he headed toward one of the training facilities aboard the ship. Inside, dozens of crew members were exercising to stay sharp. The moment they noticed the prince, they stopped what they were doing, placed a hand on their chest, and dropped to one knee in greeting.
Caden was startled by the enthusiasm, but smiled and waved them back up.
"At ease. Continue what you were doing."
He made his way to a private practice chamber. With a swipe of his bracelet, the door recognized him and slid open. This bracelet was more than an ID—it was a personalized communicator, unique to each citizen of the Empire. Phones didn't exist; this type of communication system was universal, with hundreds of variations.
Inside, Caden ordered Emil to stand guard outside. Emil didn't mind—he had already redirected the curious crew, telling them the young master would meet them later. Better to take the bullets on his behalf.
The practice chamber lit up as Caden inserted his bracelet into the central stand. A console appeared, listing the available training options:
1. Static Puppet
2. Power Scaling Device
3. Environment-Induced Combat
4. Combat Practice… and more, totaling over ten.
He selected Option 2: Power Scaling Device.
The AI confirmed his choice and asked him to set a realm level to avoid haphazard destruction. As Caden had high expectations of his power, he waited as the central stand sank into the ground. The sound of gears echoed, and within seconds, a machine rose up—a rectangular block with numbers displayed on top. Just beneath them, words glowed: "Punch Me."
Caden was amused, looking at the words "punch me". he stretched first. His body was… different. his flexibility, he noticed, was like a dancer's, like a professional one's, and he was talking about those who were in the Guinness World Records. He had no traditional ball-and-socket joints. His musculature and bone structure were weird but flawless. One word came to mind: Perfect. Flexible, fluid, limitless.
He threw his first punch casually. The counter flashed: 4.5 tons. Enough to smash through stone or snap a small tree trunk. He was shocked, and he just casually punched. If he got serious, that would be a different story. Just punching like this can cause cracks across boulders. He was ready to follow up and see how much he could stretch the limits.
He reset the machine, got into a boxing stance—feet shoulder-width apart, lead foot forward, knees slightly bent, weight balanced. Then, with full force, he punched again.
The counter jumped instantly: 10.4 tons.
Caden froze, shocked. That much force could pulverize massive boulders. He didn't even feel pain in his knuckles. Ecstasy replaced shock.
A normal human punch registered at barely 0.1 tons—around 150–250 joules. Elite boxers reached 1,200–1,500 joules. But 1 ton was already 10,000 joules—superhuman, metahuman, the stuff of legends. And yet, this was normal for cultivators who had reached the Second Realm, who could channel their Vitalforce to enhance strength.
He tested several more times. 10.6 tons. 10.5 tons. 10.9 tons. His highest: 11.0 tons.
Grinning, he switched to Option 4: Combat Practice.
The floor shifted. A sleek humanoid robot rose, radiating the aura of a Second Realm opponent. It was faceless, save for the eyes flashing continuously like assessing the opponent for any weakness. It was intelligent. Its chest was glowing like a headlight on a car, likely the core of the robot. It goes by the name of SparX v3.0.
The two squared off. Simultaneously, they threw punches. The robot slipped aside with uncanny grace, counterattacking. Caden dodged in turn, exchanging blows in a blur. The duel escalated quickly, filling the chamber with sharp impacts and shifting footwork.
Caden didn't notice that the more he moved, the faster he became. Nor that his excitement was bordering on obsession. The robot pressed his defenses mercilessly, always targeting weak spots. More than once, Caden muttered in irritation:
"Who the hell made this thing?!"
His body was constantly being stimulated, adapting, improving with every exchange. If he had started at the initial stage of the Second Realm, now he was climbing toward the level of seasoned experts. Two months of consistent training like this, and he might reach a new peak on sheer physical development alone.
Cultivation, of course, was a different matter entirely.
Meanwhile, deep within his soul, something else stirred. The 3D rhombus chip, long forgotten, was absorbing both his bloodline power and soul force. Unbeknownst to Caden, it was evolving—preparing to unleash a surprise that would shake even him.
After all, the true reason he had won the game… was not luck. His soul itself was special. More special than he could yet imagine.