A month had passed since the ban on ≤The Path of the Warrior≥ and ≤Comprehensive Guide to the Worlds of Runes≥ had taken effect. On the surface, it seemed as though the memory of the books had faded. Publicly, few dared even to mention them. The fear of execution for possessing such "forbidden knowledge" was too great. But behind closed doors, in dimly lit rooms and secluded corners, the whispers persisted. There were those who had never managed to obtain the books before the ban and now regretted it deeply. They heard rumors of the revolutionary teachings contained within, of a world where power could be learned and controlled by anyone—ideas that lit a fire of hope in their hearts. But for those fortunate enough to have hidden away a copy, their silence was born of necessity. They waited patiently, guarding their treasures, hoping the storm would pass. For now, they dared not risk exposure. They knew the King's spies were everywhere, seeking out those who clung to the teachings of the "Traveler". .... Far from the fears of common folk, in the side hall of the royal palace in He'an City, the atmosphere was thick with tension. The King sat alone at the head of the vast, dimly lit room. His fingers drummed absently on the polished armrest of his throne, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation. The weight of the crown felt heavier than ever.
In a somber tone, the King broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "Have we still not found him?"
Immediately, a royal messenger stepped forward, bowing low. "No, Great King. The latest intelligence suggests that the 'Traveler' has vanished without a trace, possibly hiding in the wilderness."
The King let out a long, weary sigh. He waved a hand, dismissing the messenger, who quickly bowed again before retreating from the hall.
The King leaned back in his throne, his gaze unfocused, lost in the swirling thoughts that had plagued him for weeks.
Almost two months had passed since the meeting with the Great Elders, when they had first declared the books as threats to the existing order.
The books posed a danger, not just to the kingdom, but to the very foundations upon which the ruling families had built their power.
He remembered how, half a month ago, the eight city lords had grown restless. They had grown tired of waiting for news of the Traveler's capture, and one by one, they had returned to their domains.
Their impatience was palpable—they wanted assurance that the old order would stand unchallenged. But even with their support, the King could not shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted. The old order, for all its strength, was starting to crumble.
The King sat in silence on his throne, lost in thought. He muttered to himself, "The 'Traveler'... ≤The Path of the Warrior≥... ≤Comprehensive Guide to the Worlds of Runes≥... Blessing or curse?"
The words hung in the air, unanswered. The King's thoughts drifted as he weighed the question in his mind.
On one hand, he understood the immense value of the knowledge the "Traveler" had brought forth. For humanity as a whole, these teachings were undeniably a blessing, a key to unlocking untapped potential.
They offered the possibility of a world where power wasn't monopolized by a select few but spread among the people.
But that was the crux of the problem, wasn't it?
For the ruling class, for the nobility and for those like him who had spent their lives maintaining the delicate balance of power, the books were a curse. They threatened to dismantle the very fabric of control, to empower the masses and challenge the hierarchy that had stood for generations.
He was torn between two worlds. As the King, he was sworn to protect his people—but what did that truly mean? Protecting them from dangerous ideas? Or giving them the tools to stand on their own?
His thoughts darkened. He had spent his entire life as a defender of the old order, a champion of tradition and stability. He had been raised in the court, trained in the art of governance, and instilled with the belief that the ruling families alone held the wisdom and strength to guide the people. It was ingrained in him, as natural as breathing. How could he, after all these years, simply turn his back on everything he had known?
But deep down, the King also knew that this knowledge could not be suppressed forever. A storm was coming. The books had already ignited the minds of too many, and sooner or later, that fire would spread. The conflict he had tried to prevent—the one the Great Elders feared—would eventually erupt.
Bloodshed seemed inevitable. The only question was how long the fragile peace would last.
He let out another weary sigh, the weight of years pressing heavily on his shoulders. He was too old to be at the center of this brewing storm. His time was nearing its end, and the fate of the kingdom, of this new world born from the Traveler's teachings, would soon lie in the hands of the younger generation.
A tired smile flickered across his lips.
"Perhaps it is not my path to choose," he murmured. He slowly stood, feeling the ache of old age in his bones. "Perhaps it is theirs."
As the King turned to leave the hall, the dim light cast his shadow long across the floor. Behind him, the silence lingered, like the calm before a storm.
....
Su Hao stood at the edge of the smoking crater, his heart pounding with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.
The "Eight-Hundred Bomb" had been his most ambitious creation yet, and the results were staggering—a bomb powered by eight hundred ‹Burst› runes. The blast had ripped a massive hole nearly a hundred meters (328 feet) wide into the earth, and even from the safe distance he'd maintained, the shockwave had knocked him flat.
His ears still rang with the deafening roar of the explosion, and the ground beneath his feet trembled in the aftermath.
Unlike the previous bombs, this "Eight-Hundred Bomb" wasn't the size of a basketball anymore; it was now as large as a table.
His thoughts began to wander as he contemplated the next steps. Sure, he could keep increasing the scale—craft a "One-Thousand Bomb," a "Ten-Thousand Bomb," or something even more colossal.
But the bigger they got, the more impractical they became. It wasn't just a matter of size; the energy required to inscribe and activate so many runes would be immense. The materials capacity of blood Qi was finite, and though he'd considered using blood Qi crystals, that was an untested theory.
For now, though, the "Eight-Hundred Bomb" was more than enough. It was hard to imagine anyone—no matter how strong—surviving such an explosion.
Could a Mystical-level warrior withstand that kind of force? Su Hao doubted it. No matter how skilled or powerful, a person was still made of flesh and blood. Flesh and blood couldn't survive the kind of overwhelming power this bomb unleashed.
If such weapons fell into human hands, what could the beasts, those monsters that had terrorized mankind for generations, possibly do to resist?
He smiled to himself, his mind filled with the thought of cities no longer living in fear of rampaging creatures. Beasts devouring humans in droves? Not if Su Hao had anything to say about it.
A grin spread across his face as he imagined the future, a deep sense of satisfaction washing over him. This was the joy of making history, of realizing his own potential.
In past lives, he had fought just to survive, drifting aimlessly from one struggle to the next.
But now, in this life, he had purpose. He had created something—something that would make a lasting impact. For the first time, he truly recognized his own existence. He was more than just a wandering soul drifting aimlessly through different worlds.
He believed that no matter where he ended up in future worlds, he would carry this sense of value with him. He would always have a purpose. Without this realization, he feared he might one day become a shell—full of knowledge but devoid of a soul.
Satisfied with the direction of his thoughts, Su Hao wasted no time. He set to work crafting a second "Eight-Hundred Bomb," embedding sharp blades inside the structure to maximize its lethality.
Once complete, he tested its weight, stuffing it into a bag and strapping it to his back. He stepped out of his cave, activated his Winged Armor, and leapt into the air.
The extra weight made flight slightly more cumbersome, and while it didn't prevent him from soaring through the skies, it did disrupt his Silent Flight Mode. Stealth was no longer an option while carrying such a massive load.
After landing and setting the bomb aside, Su Hao's thoughts shifted to a more pressing matter—the fate of his books.
His two books, ≤The Path of the Warrior≥ and ≤Comprehensive Guide to the Worlds of Runes≥, must not become tools for the ruling class.
But by himself, he had no power to resist the entirety of the human upper class.
No matter how brilliant he was, Su Hao knew he couldn't single-handedly change the world.
What he could do, though, was plant a seed.
That seed had already taken root in the minds of the people, a whisper of rebellion and possibility.
But how long would it take for that seed to bloom into something powerful enough to challenge the old order? How many more people would die, devoured by beasts, before they could truly stand against both the wild and their oppressors?
He needed to water that seed some more!
In three months, Su Hao would turn sixteen.
He had made up his mind—on his sixteenth birthday, he would present humanity with a grand gift.
A gift that would force the ruling class to acknowledge him, to confront the truths they had tried so hard to bury.
Once this gift was delivered, he would return to focus on advancing to the Grandmaster level.
There were two paths to reaching the Grandmaster level. One option was to join He'an City's Royal guards and serve for eight years, earning the qualification to advance.
But even after years of service, there was no guarantee he would be selected. It was a path fraught with uncertainty, even after years of dedication, there was no guarantee of success. The uncertainty of it gnawed at Su Hao, who was unwilling to submit to the very system he was starting to defy.
The other path involved going into the wilderness to hunt Grandmaster-level beasts in large numbers and conducting experiments. Yet the wilderness was treacherous, filled with deadly beasts, and it could take years, maybe even a decades. There was no telling how long this path would stretch, nor whether he'd live long enough to see its end.
He would need to mentally prepare for a long period of seclusion.
But right now, his mind was too restless. He couldn't focus on his research. Every time he thought about his books being used to entrench the ruling class's power rather than being distributed to the masses to fight the beasts together, he felt stifled.
His heart was not at ease!
"Besides, advancing to the Grandmaster level isn't simple. The process of transplantation is a big issue, and I can't rush it. I'll focus on crafting my 'gift' first! I want to see how they plan to ban my books. Grandmaster-level warriors? Mystical? It doesn't matter!"
But before that, he needed to make some preparations.
"‹Barrier›, ‹Hardening›, ‹Deflection›, ‹Blinding Flash›, ‹Vibration›, ‹Impact›, ‹Sharpness›, ‹Penetration›, ‹Explosion›, ‹Shockwave›, ‹Corrosion›, ‹Shock›, ‹Drill›, ..."
Su Hao systematically reviewed all the runes he had studied and began constructing the vision he had in his mind.
No, what he was crafting wasn't just runes anymore. It was something more—something that could be called a Divine Power.
This was his first true attempt to use runes to bring his imagination to life.
....
Three months later. The sky over He'an City stretched clear and blue, with a gentle breeze drifting through the streets.
The day seemed like any other—quiet and calm—until an ominous rumbling echoed across the sky. It started faintly, like distant thunder, but it grew louder, rolling across the city in continuous waves, like an approaching storm.
The sound was unlike anything the city's nearly one million residents had ever heard. Windows rattled in their frames, and the ground beneath their feet seemed to hum with the deep vibration. Panic spread quickly. People flooded out of their homes, gazing upward with expressions ranging from curiosity to fear.
But when people looked toward the sky, they saw nothing.
"What's going on?" someone asked, their voice trembling.
"It's like the roar of a Mystic-level beast!" shouted another, dread creeping into their tone. "Could we be under attack?"
"That's possible. Be ready. If things go south, we'll run to the palace for protection."
"Don't worry! The King will fend off any beast foolish enough to attack."
Fearful whispers spread through the streets as rumors began to swirl. Some imagined a massive, unseen beast preparing to descend upon them, while others speculated about dark omens from the heavens. The more paranoid barricaded themselves indoors, convinced that some disaster was about to strike.
But when they looked toward the sky, all they saw was the vast expanse of blue. There was no sign of any beast, no dark cloud, nothing to explain the strange rumbling that filled the air.
As the crowd murmured anxiously, speculating about what might happen, one sharp-eyed warrior pointed toward the direction the sound was coming from and shouted, "Look! Over there!"
Everyone turned in the direction he indicated, squinting as they tried to see. After a few moments of straining their eyes, they spotted it—a tiny black dot, slowly crawling across the sky.
At first, it seemed so small and far away that many dismissed it, but as the moments passed, the dot grew larger, its shape becoming more distinct.
"What is that? A flying beast? someone asked, their voice filled with unease.
"That must be it! It's making that terrible sound!"
"Someone, report this to the King!"
"The King is already here!"
The crowd turned and saw the King, surrounded by his entourage, emerging from the palace.