Capítulo 32: Chapter 32
{Bonus Chapter for the 300 power stones. By the way, I keep changing the POV because it's easier for me when it comes to some part of the story to explain. When I use *** it shows a change of scene or POV. Also, MC would not be getting a teacher anytime soon. Thanks for the support}
The world returned to normal, the air still carrying a faint tension from everything that had just transpired. I found myself back in my wheelchair, my eyes drifting toward the ongoing matches around me. Fighters clashed with fervor, their techniques on full display, but I couldn't bring myself to care. My thoughts were elsewhere, tangled in the chaos of what had just unfolded.
The disfigured man's words echoed in my mind. The pressure of his presence, the overwhelming power he displayed, it all felt like a puzzle piece to something far greater, something I wasn't yet ready to face. And then there was Lan Mei's reaction. Her unease and words were unlike anything I'd seen before.
I let out a quiet sigh, shutting my eyes. What was the point of dwelling on it now? The answers would come eventually, one way or another.
So, I pushed the thoughts aside and delved into Image Training.
Before me, the disfigured man appeared in my mental world, his imposing figure casting a shadow over everything. He stood there, silent but brimming with the kind of confidence that only came from absolute mastery. Even in this recreated version, he exuded the same overwhelming aura that had nearly crushed me earlier.
This was the most skilled swordsman I had ever faced, and while he barely made any moves during our encounter, each one carried a deadly precision. Every motion he made was deliberate, every step calculated, and every breath was as if it were a move in a game I couldn't hope to understand. He could have killed me thousands of times with a single thought, and yet, he didn't.
This version of him would only reflect the capabilities I had witnessed during our clash, nothing more. Still, even this incomplete shadow of his strength was more than enough for my current purpose: mastering the Endless Heart Sword Art.
To start my training in this art, I needed to focus on a single emotion as my foundation. The art revolved around cultivating every emotion individually before combining them into the ultimate Clear Heart State, a state of absolute control over one's mental and emotional state.
"I'll start with love," I said softly, my words echoing in the mental world.
Love wasn't confined to affection for others, it could be directed toward a passion, a dream, or even a battle. For me, it was combat. Combat was my love, my obsession. The thrill of clashing fists, the sound of a perfect strike landing, the satisfaction of pushing past limits, I loved it all more than anything else.
But that love was a double-edged sword. It was killing me that I couldn't fight freely. My mind constantly replayed the battles I couldn't have, the opponents I couldn't challenge, the techniques I hadn't mastered. My yearning for combat wasn't just a passion, it was an addiction. Fighting was my drug, and I'd been forced into withdrawal.
To make things worse, my unstable mental state kept me from mastering Ultra Instinct, a technique I could have perfected by now if not for my inability to let go of my emotions. The very thing that drove me to grow stronger, my love for combat, was also the thing holding me back.
Even worse, I couldn't indulge in the destructive path of a God of Destruction either. That power was a perfect match for my nature, but it would fuel my addiction and push me further into the abyss.
This was the real reason I agreed to become a chess piece in this cosmic game. I wasn't here for their grand plans or lofty goals. I was here for my drug, for the chance to fight stronger opponents, to push myself beyond every limit, and to eventually destroy the very game I was forced to play.
Love would be my starting point, the foundation for mastering the Endless Heart Sword Art. But in doing so, I would have to face the deepest parts of myself, the part of me that couldn't live without the thrill of battle, and the part of me that knew this path could lead to my destruction.
And yet, I wouldn't stop. I couldn't.
For this love, I would fight the heavens themselves.
***
"Is something wrong?" the white-haired man asked, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the disfigured man staring back in the direction they had just come from. The disfigured man's expression was one of mild shock, an unusual sight for someone of his stature.
"I hate how they approach their journey," the disfigured man muttered with a faint smile. "That kid... he's impressive. In the short time we crossed paths, he managed to recreate an image of me with 30% accuracy."
The white-haired man's eyebrows raised in disbelief. "30%? A 6-year-old can so accurately recreate you? The Sword Dao Ancestor?" His voice carried a mix of amazement and disbelief.
Anyone in the immortal realm, or even the realms below, would be left speechless at hearing such a title. The Sword Dao Ancestor, the legendary being who had birthed the sword path itself. He was said to be a figure whose power under the heavens grew as the number of sword cultivators increased. A peerless figure, revered and feared alike, now reduced to such a disfigured state?
"Don't call me that," the disfigured man said, his voice carrying a sharp edge. He seemed to loathe the title, casting it away like a discarded mantle.
The white-haired man smirked, but his expression remained thoughtful.
"Have everyone get ready," the disfigured man said, his tone shifting to one of command. "Zhou Lianchen is going to draw most of our enemies' attention. Someone as battle-hungry as him won't follow orders, not completely. He's going to become a storm that the immortal realm has no hope of containing...."
***
"Haha! Yes! I made it!" Lianchen roared with laughter, the raw, untamed power of the Legendary Super Saiyan state coursing through him. He stood amidst a battlefield within his mental world, where countless fighters from across a sea of anime rushed toward him. From the most formidable warriors to cunning tacticians, they came at him with everything they had. But Lianchen didn't falter, not for a moment. Instead, he unleashed his might, dispatching every last one of them in cruel and devastating ways. Each blow was a testament to his overwhelming strength, and each enemy's fall brought him closer to mastery.
Why was Lianchen so elated? The answer was simple. He had just achieved a major milestone: he had successfully formed his first heart, the Love Heart Sword Art. Or rather, as he liked to call it, the Love Heart Haki Art.
This Haki was unlike anything he had wielded before, fueled by his unyielding love for combat. It was a limitless wellspring of energy, a seemingly infinite reservoir that he could tap into at will. The power it granted was intoxicating, a sea of raw potential that made him feel invincible. But, as with all great power, there was a price to pay. Lianchen quickly realized that the sheer magnitude of his love-driven Haki was too much for his body to handle. It was as if he stood before a vast ocean of energy, able to take only small sips while the waves threatened to drown him.
"Now... my Sadness Heart," Lianchen murmured, letting the Legendary Super Saiyan state fade away. His golden-green aura dissipated, leaving him in a state of calm clarity. Within the confines of this Image Training, the transformation could be considered a simulation, a controlled environment where he could experiment with his powers without fear of losing control.
This was the only reason Lianchen was able to train so freely. If he couldn't even rely on Image Training without the risk of going berserk at the faintest hint of a good battle, he knew he wouldn't have come this far. The mental space gave him freedom, a place to grow and refine his abilities without the physical and emotional risks that came with the real world.
"Sadness," Lianchen repeated, his gaze distant as he prepared himself for the next step in his journey. Love had been an easy heart to begin with, given his unshakable passion for combat. But Sadness? That was a different beast altogether. The sorrow he'd buried, the pain of his losses, and the regrets of both his past and present lives, it was a storm he had to face head-on. To master the Sadness Heart would mean embracing that storm, finding strength in the tears he never allowed himself to shed... tears of the good battles he couldn't have.
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