Chapter 107: It’s Really Weak

With a one-star profound spirit, Adam had merely been helping.

Supporting. Thinning numbers. Easing pressure so the heirs and acolytes could breathe.

But a three-star spirit meant only one thing.

This battle is already over.

Behind him, the martial spirit roared.

It slammed its armored fists against its chest, the sound detonating through the air like a war drum. Wind screamed in response. The cyclone answered its master, rotation tightening, speed multiplying, pressure compressing inward until the air itself began to burn.

The blades turned hot.

Not from flame, but from friction, wind compressed and accelerated to the point where it screamed white-hot through space.

Across the battlement, monsters froze.

Wood Tigers. Gargoyles. Giant Rats. Evil Pixies. Sabre Wolves. Sirens.

All of them stared.

The cyclone no longer looked like a technique.

It looked like a harbinger of death.

Even monsters scaling the walls, clawing stone, flapping wings, burrowing through cracks, halted mid-motion as the wind’s pitch deepened. The vortex grew wider. Denser. Faster.

Then instinct took over.

Primal terror.

Monsters turned and fled.

Some scrambled away from the wall. Others trampled their own kind. A few, panicked beyond reason, leapt over the battlements entirely, choosing certain death over whatever that was.

This cyclone was different from the first.

Before, there had been chance. Randomness. A sliver of survival if luck favored them.

Now…

Death was absolute.

The storm intensified again, and within the blur of impossible wind, a massive skull shape emerged, vast, distorted, grinning, its hollow eyes burning emerald as it loomed through the vortex.

Then…

The wind vanished.

There was no dissipation or fade.

It was simply gone.

Adam sat at the center, still cross-legged on the stone, posture relaxed. His robe didn’t flutter. His hair didn’t stir. Only his eyes glowed faintly emerald, calm and cold.

He didn’t look like someone who had just been inside a cyclone.

Monsters that had been fleeing froze mid-step.

So did the heirs.

So did the acolytes.

Silence stretched for a single breath.

Then bodies began to fall.

One.

Then dozens.

Then hundreds.

The thuds echoed violently along the wall, flesh collapsing, armor clattering, massive frames hitting stone in rapid succession. From one end of the battlement to the other, monsters dropped where they stood, blood erupting from clean, invisible cuts.

Abigail’s eyes widened.

She understood instantly.

The cyclone hadn’t disappeared.

It had moved so fast that it looked like calm air.

Invisible and imperceptible.

Inside it, the air speed around Adam was as gentle as a quiet day’s breeze, that was why he was untouched. But the wind blades themselves… they were something else entirely. Their velocity was so extreme that the monsters’ bodies didn’t even register the damage.

They died before their nerves could react.

They only realized it when they collapsed.

Over a hundred kilometers of wall…

Monsters died in droves.

And at the very center of it all, Adam sat unmoving.

A cold smile slowly formed on his face.

The battle was finally over.

The tide of monsters lay dead across the battlement, bodies piled, torn, sliced so cleanly they looked almost intact until the blood pooled beneath them. The heirs and acolytes stood scattered among the carnage, silent, staring at a single figure.

Adam.

He rose carefully from where he’d been sitting cross-legged, brushing dust from his butt as if he’d merely rested for a moment instead of ending a war.

His gaze swept over the battlefield, emerald eyes calm as they passed over thousands of corpses.

Despite all this… I still don’t have enough Existence to evolve the big guy any further.

The thought was so casual it bordered on absurd.

If any martial artist heard it, they would’ve spat blood on the spot. Who in their right mind manifested a martial spirit and evolved it to three stars in a single day? And not just any spirit, a profound spirit, one that demanded far more Existence than a normal martial spirit.

Yet Adam had done it.

Only his unusually high Star Power made it possible. An average martial artist, even if they caused a massacre like this, would already be at a high rank, and the Existence gained wouldn’t even make a dent in further evolution.

But Adam was different.

He was still an apprentice. A low-rank martial artist with absurd Star Power and a freshly evolved spirit. That imbalance meant the Existence pouring in now actually mattered.

Adam smiled faintly.

The stench of dead monsters hung thick in the air, but to him it felt strangely pleasant.

Like walking through a garden.

By instinct, he summoned his panel.

╭───────────╮

〖Name: Adam〗

〖Rank: Profound Apprentice〗

〖Cultivation Talent: G〗

〖Special Talent: Equip ❖ Connect〗

〖Affinity: Wind ❖ Death〗

〖SLOT〗

↳ SOUL (5): Rapid E ❖ Poison F ❖

Cultivation D ❖ Freeze F ❖

Mind Control E

↳ BODY (6): Empty

╰───────────╯

Star Power: 21+

Existence: 3890

Martial Spirit: Profound — 3 Star

Adam stared at the Existence value.

A lot.

Still not enough.

“I’ll have to grind more later,” he muttered.

There was no complaint in his voice. The requirement was high, sure, but that was normal. Other martial artists reached those thresholds eventually, even if it took them longer.

Most of them relied on life seeds, consumables that boosted Existence gained from kills. Adam hadn’t used any. He couldn’t. The sector was out of stock, and even if he purchased them earlier, they died after a single day without use.

His gaze then drifted upward to his Star Power, lingering there longer.

Then he shook his head slightly.

“The yellow-grade technique really is weak.”

From the outside, it almost sounded like provocation.

But Adam wasn’t baiting anyone.

He was being honest.

The true power of a martial spirit couldn’t be shown without the right technique.

A yellow-grade technique was never meant for a profound spirit. It was a mismatch from the start, like stuffing a regular car’s engine into the frame of a supercar. It would move, sure. It might even look impressive to the untrained eye.

But the real performance?

It was wasted.

To draw out the full potential of his spirit, Adam needed a profound-grade technique, one designed to handle refined essence pathways and the sheer output of a profound spirit.

Adam let out a slow breath.

Only the stars know how expensive that’ll be.

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside for later. There was no point dwelling on costs he couldn’t pay yet.

That was when his gaze caught on something.

No, someone.

A figure standing amid the aftermath, unnaturally still against the chaos of collapsed bodies and shattered stone. Adam’s eyes narrowed, as his voice dropped to a stunned hush.

“Dickson?”

****

A/N: 800 power stones or top 60 in golden ticket ranking before 21st of this month for a mass release.

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