On this continent, the practice of martial arts meant more than longevity—it was glory, status, and privilege.
To truly step into the realm of a warrior was to bring honor to one's bloodline, earning the recognition of both crown and church.
But the true path of cultivation—the burdens it carried, the chains it imposed—those secrets were tightly guarded, hidden from the masses, scarcely recorded even in ancient texts.
Still, the fundamentals of cultivation were nearly common knowledge across the entire kingdom.
–– For an average adult, Vital Energy and Spiritual Sense usually lingered around twenty, never less than fifteen, never more than twenty-five.
Those who fell beneath fifteen were either gravely ill… or nearing the end of their lifespan.
Before becoming a warrior, there was no shortcut to raising Vital Energy. One could only rely on diet, potions, and the cruelty of ceaseless training.
But once Vital Energy broke past forty, the first threshold appeared—the divide between mere mortals and true warriors.
Most would never cross it in their lifetime.
The second threshold was the Body-Tempering Secret Art.
This method was strictly controlled by the crown. Only the Royal Knight Academy and the Sacred Temple's martial halls were permitted to teach it.
Not because of selfish hoarding, but because the method itself was too domineering.
Without at least sixty Vital Energy, any attempt to cultivate it would backfire, leaving the practitioner's bloodline scorched dry, their life snuffed out instantly.
As for potions, the records were equally sparse. Only one remained widely known—the Blood-Nurturing Crystal Pill.
Its effect was singular: rapidly restore Vital Energy, thus prolonging the time one could endure training.
But the cost was staggering. A bottle of ten sold for three hundred gold coins. Taken daily, one month's supply demanded nine hundred gold—a sum heavy enough to crush countless households.
–––
"It smells decent enough, but looks…" Ethan poured a few pills into his palm, smirking wryly, "like dirt-caked horse dung pellets."
Each pill was no larger than a soybean, its surface coarse and dull, dim to the point of being utterly unremarkable.
"How does it taste?"
After a brief hesitation, Ethan placed a pill on his tongue.
–– In an instant, the medicine dissolved.
A fragrant sweetness bloomed between his teeth, sending a warm current surging through his limbs and bones.
"This feeling… damn, it's wonderful."
His entire body seemed to stretch and ignite, every muscle flushed with unspeakable power.
With a light leap, he felt boundless energy coursing through him, a vigor he had not known in eighteen years.
"If that's the case, then I'll start sharpening my body at once—and reclaim every battle technique from my past life!"
For eighteen years, he had never stopped replaying the brutal fights of his former existence. Now that strength was returning, reaching his former peak was only a matter of sweat and time.
–––
Weapons were forbidden inside the library, but training the body required no blade.
Push-ups. Sit-ups. Squats. Jumps. Footwork drills. Empty-handed strikes.
Simple exercises, yes—but within the confined space, they were enough to drive his stamina to the very edge.
Ethan trained until sweat poured like rain, as though he were purging eighteen years of pent-up rage with each movement.
Two hours later, he finally collapsed, chest heaving violently.
With a thought, the glowing panel appeared once more:
Name: Ethan Cross
Vital Energy: 36
Spiritual Sense: 30
Resource Points: 151
Rank: None
Battle Arts: None
Breath ragged, Ethan muttered to himself:
"One pill… and it fueled two hours of extreme training. My Vital Energy even rose by one point."
"If I keep this up, breaking past the threshold of sixty… might not be a dream after all."
Had anyone else heard those words, their jaws would have hit the floor.
For most, even after swallowing a pill and training desperately, they could not fully burn through its medicinal strength. To force down more than one at a time would only leave the energy festering inside them—bloodlines thrown into chaos, death following soon after.
Winton's bloated, flabby figure was the perfect example of what happened when one gorged on pills without ever burning off their effects.
Ethan, however, devoured every drop of medicinal essence with a monstrous physique that left nothing wasted.
It meant only one thing—
He was born a predator.
A being destined to grow at a pace far beyond ordinary men… until he stood above them all.
"The feeling of throwing my fists without restraint… damn, it feels good! More!"
The medicinal power exploded within him, blood energy surging like a roaring flood. Ethan lost himself in endless training, forgetting time, forgetting pain.
The moon climbed high into the night sky, yet he never stopped striking, fists tearing through the air, sweat dripping down his cheeks. His eyes, however, only grew sharper, more resolute.
–––
While Ethan drowned himself in tireless training, the Vega family was plunging into hell.
Inside the sealed ward on the forty-third floor of Saint Gran Hospital in the royal capital, Winton lay sprawled on a massive bed, his swollen body pierced by crystal tubes. Bottles of precious elixirs were poured into him one after another—yet no matter how rare or costly, none could halt his decline.
A row of physicians stood with grim faces, powerless, unable to diagnose the cause.
At the bedside, Frank Vega—the patriarch of the Vega family—wore an expression black as iron.
A sharp-faced young man stumbled into the room, trembling.
"Did you find out what happened?" Frank's voice was like frost.
"Y-yes… it's been confirmed." The youth was drenched in cold sweat. "Tonight the young master clashed with Ethan… and afterward, he became like this."
"Bullshit!"
Frank roared, eyes blazing with fury. "That frail bastard? A wretch who could be blown over by the wind? How could he possibly harm my son?!"
If not for the boy's cousin being a warrior, Frank would have crushed his skull on the spot.
"But… the young master never left the academy tonight. The only person he fought… was Ethan."
The youth's face twisted with misery as he spoke.
Frank's eyes turned to ice. "Where is Ethan? Have you brought him back?"
"N-no… we couldn't find him."
Smack!
The sharp crack of a slap echoed through the ward, sending the youth stumbling back, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"Useless trash! If Ethan isn't found tonight, then even your warrior cousin won't be able to save you!"
"Y-yes, sir! Yes!"
The youth fled in panic, too terrified to utter another word.
–––
None of them noticed that, outside the ward's window, high in the night sky, two figures hovered silently.
The forty-third floor was already a forbidden height for ordinary men—but to them, it was as if they stood upon the void itself.
A man and a woman.
The man wore a long white robe, his face plain, almost forgettable—yet his eyes were deep and unfathomable.
The woman was his opposite: her figure sinuous and striking, clad in black leather armor that hugged every curve. Her hair was ink-dark, her skin pale as snow, her starry eyes glittering with dangerous light. Dangling from her ears were a pair of ancient earrings, delicate and radiant, lending her beauty a fatal allure.
"What do you think?" the robed man asked softly.
The woman gave a lazy smile, lips curling into a sultry arc. "To drain three youths of their very life force… that isn't something any human warrior could accomplish."
"Could it be connected to that experiment? He's been in hiding for over a decade. Now that we finally have a trail, we can't afford any mistakes."
The man's brow furrowed.
The woman chuckled, her voice velvet-smooth yet edged with frost. "What's there to fear? A rat that only dares to scurry in the shadows can never stir a storm. Check whether those three brats are tied to it. As for Ethan… leave him to me."
Her earrings swayed with a glimmer of light, and in the blink of an eye, her figure melted into the night.
The man, too, receded into darkness, and silence reclaimed the void as though no one had ever been there.
–––
Meanwhile, in the Grand Library, Ethan was still lost in relentless training, sweat soaking through his clothes.
Naively, he believed his only enemies were the Vega family. He had no idea that far more terrifying forces had already marked him as prey.
Twenty hours later, the ten Blood-Nurturing Crystal Pills were spent.
Ethan collapsed onto the cold stone floor, his legs trembling, his breath ragged like a beast driven to exhaustion.
"Damn it… I still overestimated myself. Raising the upper limit of Vital Energy… it's far harder than I thought."
Ethan lifted his gaze toward the glowing panel, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions.
Ten pills. Twenty hours of relentless training. And yet his Vital Energy remained stuck at—
How laughable, that he had once believed breaking past sixty would be anything but a trivial hurdle.
Reality had slapped him hard across the face.
"If pills alone won't cut it…"
He drew in a long, steady breath. His expression hardened, and with a thought, the cold, mechanical panel unfurled before him once more.