Dinner passed in warmth and peace. For the first time in years, Emma and Alfred felt at ease — their son was no longer the frail, uncertain boy they worried over. His calm demeanor, his steady voice, even the way he carried himself… everything had changed. Pride and relief shone in their eyes as they spoke and laughed together.
But when the table was cleared and the house grew quiet, Leon returned to his room.
He shut the door behind him, the soft creak of the hinges fading into silence. The black-sheathed katana leaned against the wall, pulsing faintly in the lamplight, but tonight his attention fell elsewhere.
The scroll.
Unrolling it carefully, Leon whispered the words carved into its surface.
"Domain Piercer."
The name alone sent a shiver through him, as if the parchment itself carried weight. He didn't yet understand that this was no ordinary technique — that this scroll was something for which gods had once killed each other, and sects had bled rivers of blood to claim. To Leon, it was simply his inheritance. A gift. A path.
Still, as his eyes moved across the runes, something stirred deep within his consciousness. His perception sharpened, lines and concepts unfolding in his mind with uncanny clarity. In his past life, he had lazed away his chances, careless and unmotivated. But now, he realized… his comprehension was frightening. Almost genius.
He read slowly, carefully, letting every line sink into him. Yet, even as he studied, he could feel Azahr's earlier boon humming at the edge of his mind — the comprehension that had already been planted into his sea of consciousness. It was like a door already unlocked, a pathway already paved.
So this is what he meant, Leon thought, his obsidian eyes narrowing. The knowledge is here… but performing it is another matter entirely.
Hours slipped by unnoticed. The lamp burned low, shadows thickened across the room, and still Leon read. Every word felt like a step deeper into a world far beyond his village, a world of gods and monsters.
When he finally set the scroll aside, his pulse was steady, but his mind burned. He hadn't even begun to practice, and already he knew: this technique would change him.
And perhaps… it would change the world.
Leon set the scroll aside, exhaling slowly. He still didn't know the true weight of what rested in his hands — a ancient-rank technique, the kind of art sects would bleed entire generations for. To him, it was just another path forward.
Seven stages… seven forms. He replayed the words in his mind, his obsidian eyes narrowing as if to carve them into memory.
The first form was simple in description, yet terrifying in power.
Shattering Earth — Vertical Slash.
A single downward strike, heavy as the wrath of the heavens. It was said to split the ground itself, carving craters into the earth and reducing small mountains to rubble.
The second…
Heaven Piercer — Horizontal Slash.
A sweeping cut, sharp enough to tear through ranges of stone. It was said to level mountains, its edge stretching so high it could split the very sky.
Leon swallowed. Just the first two forms could shake armies, yet there were five more.
He turned his thoughts to the third.
World Sundering — Cross Slash.
Two strikes crossing in the air, colliding into an X that unleashed devastation in every direction. A single swing could erase battlefields, sundering the world beneath it.
The fourth form made his fingers tighten.
Starfall Descent — Spiraling Slash.
A rising arc that twisted and descended like a falling star, dragging the weight of the heavens with it. Entire cities could be ground into dust beneath its path.
Then the fifth… and Leon's heart skipped.
Domain Rend — Absolute Slash.
A cut that ignored barriers, formations, and even domains themselves. Walls of energy, sect-protecting arrays, divine shields — all meaningless before this edge. It was said only cultivators who had stepped into the realm of Heaven's Chosen could even attempt to wield it.
Leon drew in a sharp breath. Up to this point, the forms were monstrous, yet still possible… still within the hands of mortals. But the sixth and seventh were different. They weren't meant for men.
The scroll's words were faint, almost blurred, as though resisting mortal comprehension.
Abyss Cleaver — Sixth Form.
A stroke so vast it could collapse the void itself. The text whispered of seas evaporating, skies folding, and dimensions trembling under its weight. Not for mortals. Only gods.
And then the final…
Cosmic Severance — Final Form.
A blade that could cut fate itself. Not mountains, not worlds, but the very threads that bound existence. One swing to erase destiny. One cut to silence even gods.
Leon's pulse raced, but a wry smile touched his lips. So these are the stages… seven forms, yet beyond the fifth, they don't even belong to humans anymore.
He leaned back, resting his head against the wall. To him, it was only knowledge for now. He hadn't yet grasped the significance. But if anyone else had seen what rested in his hands tonight, sects, kingdoms, even empires would have drowned Stoneford in blood to claim it.
Leon crossed his legs and settled into the lotus position. His breath slowed, his body straightened, and in the quiet of his room, he began to perform the cultivation method Azahr had carved into his very soul — a technique of ancient rank, godly in origin.
If anyone in Tranqueasia, or even beyond, learned he possessed such an art, they would not hesitate. Empires would march, sects would slaughter, gods themselves might descend. Leon's very existence would be snuffed out before he could draw another breath.
But here, in the silence of his small room in the forgotten village of Stoneford, only the night bore witness.
He drew his focus inward, locking his mind onto his spirit core. At once, the world seemed to fall silent. The air itself grew heavy, then began to stir. Spirit energy rushed toward him — first in threads, then in torrents. It flowed from the walls, the floor, the very air around his home, flooding into his body and sinking into his core with terrifying hunger.
The pressure inside him swelled. Leon grimaced, but held firm. He was already at the Eighth Rank Spirit Warrior, but his breakthroughs had come too fast, one after another, stacking like blades pressed against glass. His spirit core trembled under the strain. Too much, too quickly, and it could crack — leaving his cultivation crippled forever.
Balance it. Control it.
He steadied his breathing, guiding the violent surge of energy through his meridians, tempering the flood into a steady stream. Sweat beaded across his brow as his body worked to tame the raging power within him.
Minutes bled into hours.
By the time the moon reached its peak, Leon's obsidian eyes opened briefly, glowing faintly with a black sheen before dimming again. His aura pulsed strong, steady, sharp — like a blade sheathed in silence. Stronger than most cultivators in Stoneford… perhaps even stronger than anyone dared imagine.
At last, when his body could take no more, he eased his breath and allowed his mind to withdraw from the sea of energy. The house grew quiet again.
Leon unfolded his legs and let his body rest back against the wall. Midnight's chill seeped through the window, but his heart burned steady with strength.
Soon after, he lay down. Sleep claimed him swiftly, but even in dreams, his spirit hummed like a storm waiting to break.
While Leon slept peacefully in his small room, somewhere else in Stoneford a very different scene was unfolding.
In the chief's manor — a large, luxurious room lit by golden lamps and draped with fine rugs — four men sat together. Two were seasoned, middle-aged figures with calculating eyes, and the other two were their sons, still young but already steeped in arrogance.
Robert, the village chief, leaned back in his cushioned chair. His brown hair, streaked faintly with grey, was tied back, his sharp jawline twisted into a scowl. His voice was low but dripping with venom.
"Ah… those old bastards on the council. They actually made that bitch Amelia an elder for the ceremony." He spat to the side, his eyes narrowing with contempt.
Beside him, Albert snorted, a man of solid build with black hair already touched with white, his face marked by years of authority as one of the village's elite guards. His loyalty to Robert was as firm as his bitterness.
"You're right, Chief. Ever since that girl was scouted by Astralis Academy, people have been treating her like some goddess. Hah! She isn't even that impressive. Jacob here is far more talented than she ever was."
Across the table, Jacob — Robert's son — smirked bitterly. His brown hair matched his father's, though his sharp, handsome face was marred by arrogance. His build was average, nothing remarkable, but his eyes burned with frustrated pride.
"Yes, Father. She's insufferable. Arrogant, dismissive… she doesn't even look my way. Always acting above me, always mingling with that piece of shit Leon instead." His voice dripped with resentment as he slammed a fist onto the armrest.
William, Albert's son, nodded quickly in support. His face was plain, forgettable, but his tone carried eager spite.
"Jacob's right. Amelia ignores him completely, but with Leon she's always close. It's obvious where her heart leans."
The words twisted deeper into Jacob's pride, his jaw tightening as he muttered curses under his breath.
Robert chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with malice. He reached forward, pouring himself a cup of wine, and raised it casually as though toasting his own scheme.
"Don't worry, son. I'll do something about her. If Amelia thinks she can flaunt her Astralis connection and undermine us, she'll soon learn her place." His grin stretched into something cruel, shadows flickering across his face in the lamplight.
Albert leaned back with a cold smirk of his own, lifting his drink. "To that, Chief. I'll stand with you."
The two young men exchanged looks of satisfaction, their earlier bitterness easing into smug smiles.
And so, while Stoneford slept in peace, seeds of envy and malice began to take root in its very heart.
Author's Note :
Technique & Treasure Rankings
1. Earth Grade ( •‿• )
2. Heaven Grade ( ´◡‿ゝ◡` )
3. Moon Grade (°•∆•°)
4. Divine Grade (⌐■_■)
5. Celestial Grade (✦‿✦)
6. Ancient Grade (☯‿☯)
---
Domain Piercer – Seven Stages
1. Shattering Earth — Vertical Slash (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
2. Heaven Piercer — Horizontal Slash (ง •̀_•́)ง
3. World Sundering — Cross Slash ╰(°▽°)╯
4. Starfall Descent — Spiraling Slash (✧ω✧)
5. Domain Rend — Absolute Slash (¬‿¬)
6. Abyss Cleaver — Void Slash (ಥ‿ಥ)
7. Cosmic Severance — Final Form (☠°∀°)☠
I hope this helps in better understanding ( ´ ω ` )ノ
I'll put the cultivation rankings in the following chapters (°•∆•°)