Standing behind him, Magnus’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.
Over five thousand kilograms at the initial stage...?
The veteran warrior swallowed hard, feeling a rare chill creep up the back of his neck.
Is this what a Prodigy looks like? With this kind of foundation alone, who among his peers could withstand a single blow from him? In the entire Martial Artist Realm of this province, he won’t find a single rival capable of matching him in physical combat!
Evelyn didn’t overthink the technicalities as much as her father. She simply stared at the massive five-digit number, clasped her hands together, and beamed with genuine joy.
"That’s amazing, Lucian! That’s more than double what those senior Martial Artists at the municipal gym were bragging about last month!"
"That’s only the body’s shell," Magnus interrupted, clearing his throat as he regained his composure. He then waved Lucian toward a smaller, pedestal-mounted device. "Now, come over here. Let’s test your Spiritual Energy."
Lucian walked over.
Resting on the pedestal was an intricate metallic disc shaped like an Eight Diagram plate, etched with thousands of microscopic circuits and spirit-conducting silver lines.
"After condensing a Spiritual Seed and becoming a true Martial Artist, that seed becomes your internal engine, the singular source of all your martial power," Magnus explained, his tone turning instructional. "And naturally, different seeds have vastly different grades."
He pointed toward the center of the Diagram plate.
"An ordinary circulation produces an Ordinary Spiritual Seed. A Small Heavenly Cycle produces a Small Spiritual Seed. A Great Heavenly Cycle produces a Great Spiritual Seed. And completing the full 108 Heavenly Cycles produces a Perfect Spiritual Seed."
Magnus paused, his expression becoming solemn.
"As for you... your Heavenly Cycles pushed far beyond even the Perfect Heavenly Cycle. Even I have never encountered any historical precedent for the kind of Spiritual Seed you’ve condensed."
He gestured toward the instrument.
"Let’s see what it reads."
"How do I test it?" Lucian asked.
"Take a needle, prick your fingertip, and let a single drop of blood fall onto the central array," Magnus explained. "In the Martial Artist Realm, your Spiritual Energy is strictly confined within your flesh, bones, and blood, where it is used to temper the physical body. It cannot yet be projected beyond the skin like a Martial Master’s aura. Therefore, the only way to measure its density and quality is through the spiritual essence bound within your blood."
"Understood."
Lucian picked up a small silver pin from the tray beside the machine, lightly pricked the tip of his left index finger, and squeezed out a bead of dark-crimson blood.
Drip.
The droplet landed squarely on the core node of the Eight Diagram plate.
The silver lines flared to life instantly.
A faint hum rose from the machine as the dark droplet was rapidly absorbed into the crystalline matrix. The gears within the pedestal began spinning softly, processing the internal properties of the blood.
After three long seconds, a soft chime sounded.
Three holographic lines of text appeared in the air above the plate:
Attribute: Dark Attribute Spiritual Energy.
Spiritual Energy Density: 1.1
Spiritual Energy Intensity: 1.2
The room fell dead silent.
Magnus stared at those three short lines, his expression freezing completely. For several seconds, he didn’t even breathe.
"Uncle?" Lucian asked, growing uneasy at the older man’s silence. "Is... is the density low? What does 1.1 mean?"
Magnus let out a long, heavy breath and rubbed his temples as though trying to ward off a headache. He stared at Lucian as if he were looking at an ancient monster disguised in human skin.
"Density," Magnus said slowly, each word deliberate, "measures the total reserves of Spiritual Energy stored within your Spiritual Seed. Under normal circumstances, an elite cultivator who breaks through after completing a Perfect Heavenly Cycle will record a density of exactly 0.1 at the first stage of the Martial Artist Realm. By the time they reach the peak of the ninth stage, it might crawl up to 0.9 or 1.0."
He paused, his expression turning strange.
"A score of 1.1... is the standard baseline for a certified Martial Master."
Lucian blinked.
"My volume matches that of a Martial Master?"
"Not just your volume," Magnus said, pointing toward the second metric with a grim expression. "Spiritual Energy intensity reflects the purity, density, and destructive efficiency of that energy. The higher your intensity, the more devastating your Martial Skills become when unleashed. Standard Martial Artists usually fall somewhere between 0.1 and 0.3. Yours is 1.2 which, once again, matches the quality of a Martial Master."
Magnus shook his head, half-amazed and half-terrified.
"Kid, aside from the fact that your meridians can’t physically project Spiritual Energy beyond your skin to form external shields or flying blades, your internal stats qualify you to walk straight into the Martial Artist Association and demand a Martial Master license right now."
He paused, his eyes narrowing sharply as he stared into Lucian’s face.
The casual warmth in his expression vanished, replaced by an absolute, unyielding gravity.
"Lucian. Listen to me very carefully."
Lucian immediately straightened his posture.
"Yes, Uncle."
"Blood tests like this can easily expose your foundation," Magnus said, his voice dropping to a low, stern whisper. "In the outside world, unless the test is conducted inside a strictly secured, state-controlled facility with absolutely no outside observers, you must never allow anyone to test your blood. If anyone asks for an evaluation, show them your punching strength and even then, hold back at least half of your true power."
"Why?" Evelyn asked, sensing the sudden danger in her father’s tone.
"Because numbers like these aren’t human," Magnus replied bluntly. "If the underground research institutes or those madmen in corporate bio-labs catch wind that a high school graduate possesses the internal density of a Martial Master, they’ll pay billions to strap him to an operating table and dissect his dantian."
His expression darkened.
"And worse the Outer God Cult. Those zealots hunt down every promising seed of our human race. A talent like this would place you at the very top of their assassination priority list."
Magnus fixed Lucian with a grave stare.
"From this moment onward, you must treat your true strength as your greatest secret."