The interior was far larger than the shrine’s modest exterior suggested.
A vast circular chamber stretched before him, its ceiling disappearing into darkness.
Countless motes of pale blue mana floated lazily through the air like stars suspended in a tranquil night sky.
Ancient stone pillars lined the hall, each carved with faded symbols belonging to civilizations that had vanished long before humanity’s recorded history.
At the very centre stood a single stone on a pedestal.
Nothing more.
No Guardian.
No Trial.
No hidden traps waiting to punish him for simply existing.
Dylan turned his head slowly, taking in the interior of the shrine, unable to stop himself from staring in awe.
He thought back on the journey that had brought him here.
The abandoned tunnels.
The Mana Deer.
The endless climb through Ashveil Summit.
His shoulders still burned beneath the weight of his backpack, and his healing ribs protested with every breath.
Yet, he couldn’t stop smiling.
A quiet, genuine smile.
For the first time since arriving in this world, it felt like his effort had finally been rewarded.
“…Worth it.”
The words escaped him almost unconsciously.
He collected himself and walked, slow and steady, to the pedestal.
Standing before the pedestal, he slowly reached forward.
Standing before the pedestal, he slowly reached forward.
The instant his fingertips brushed it’s smooth surface.
The chamber dissolved.
Thousands of translucent windows unfolded around him, filling the empty space from floor to ceiling.
Then a calm voice echoed through the shrine, commanding in its quiet authority.
“Take one armament. Take one scripture. Reach for more, and thou wilt learn why greed is punished here.”
Dylan drew a slow breath.
“Right, that’s how it works,” he murmured, his gaze shifting toward the first selection.
Dozens…
no, hundreds of Armaments floated before him.
In the novel, Dylan had made sure Ethan always got the best equipment, even though half the time Ethan just kept using the same old armaments, letting the rest rust away unused in his inventory.
So Dylan figured that taking just one from this overflowing hoard surely wouldn’t hurt anyone.
As he examined the Armaments, he became confused there were literally so many options.
Towering greatswords, elegant rapiers, massive war hammers, spears, bows, gauntlets, staffs, and countless weapons he couldn’t even name.
Then his eyes landed on a slender Jian sword floating quietly among them.
It possessed neither the overwhelming aura of a legendary weapon nor the extravagant appearance of a divine relic.
Its beauty lay in its simplicity.
The straight, double-edged blade gleamed like polished silver beneath the shrine’s gentle light.
Countless delicate patterns flowed across the steel, resembling thin streams of rain racing down a window during a quiet storm.
The guard was understated, forged from pale steel shaped into gently curving clouds, while the grip was wrapped in deep midnight-blue silk.
It was elegant, refined, unassuming.
Dylan reached toward it.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, a familiar blue window appeared.
Name: Nameless Jian
Grade: F-Grade
Classification: Growth Weapon
Description: A nameless Jian awaiting the one who shall define its legend.
It possesses no recorded history, no previous master and no predetermined destiny.
As its wielder grows stronger, so too shall the blade.
Effects
• Enhances the wielder’s Agility while drawn.
• Mana Conductivity greatly increased.
• Growth — Evolves alongside its master, unlocking new abilities over time.
Remark “Every legend begins with a nameless blade.”
Dylan stared at it for a while searching for a perfect name for it.
Heavenrend Sword.
“No”
Celestial Severing Sword.
“No”
Heaven Rousing Star Sword.
“That’s actually cool…”
“But calling it ‘Heaven-Rousing Star Sword’ in front of everyone would be cringe,” Dylan muttered, scratching his chin.
He traces one finger gently across the flowing patterns decorating the blade.
Then a quiet smile spread across his face.
“They look like rainfall.”
“Rain,” Dylan murmured, naming the sword
The sword gave no response.
Naturally, it was still just a weapon.
“…Rain it is.”
The system window shimmered.
[Name Updated: Rain]
A small surge of mana rushed into the sword, imprinting itself upon the blade.
He nodded with quiet satisfaction before returning the blade to its sheath.
“One down.”
Now came the hard part.
The Combat Scriptures.
Hundreds of jade slips shimmered into existence before him, filling the air in silent rows.
His expression stiffened.
“…You’re kidding.”
His eyes darted from one Scripture to the next.
Every single one was absurd.
Nine Bends Flowing River Sword Art
Grade: SSS
A supreme sword art born from the endless flow of rivers.
Every strike bleeds naturally into the next, nine ever-evolving techniques merging into a dance both elegant and relentless.
The practitioner learns not to oppose force, but to redirect it turning an opponent’s own strength against them until every motion becomes indistinguishable from water itself.
Roaring Dragon Sword Art
Grade: SSS
A domineering sword art that crushes all resistance through explosive momentum and absolute aggression.
Each slash carries the weight of a charging dragon, growing fiercer with every consecutive strike.
Once unleashed, it permits no retreat only an unstoppable torrent bearing down on everything in its path.
Crimson Chrysanthemum Blade Song
Grade: SS
A legendary manual built around condensed flame and devastating offense.
Though it ranks below the supreme Scriptures, few techniques rival its raw destruction.
Every completed form blooms like a crimson chrysanthemum before erupting into scorching waves capable of reducing a battlefield to ash.
[Petal Blossom Steps]
Grade: S
….
In the original novel, Ethan received a Scripture from this very shrine midway through the story.
Back then, he had taken [Roaring Dragon Sword Art] an SSS-Grade sword art and the [Heaven Striding Steps], an SS-Grade movement art.
Taking those two meant unraveling the storyline in ways he couldn’t afford.
Dylan had been willing, from the very start, to bend the narrative wherever it was needed.
If some god had dragged him into this world, then surely he was meant to change it one way or another.
That was precisely why he had chosen to come to Ashveil Summit without hesitation in his eyes, it was nothing less than the optimal path to power.
But stripping the protagonist of his two greatest Combat Scriptures?
That was something he refused to let happen.
“So naturally, those two are off the table.”
“…This is cruel.”
Which left him a choice between [Nine Bends Flowing River Sword Art] and [Crimson Chrysanthemum Blade Song]
“How am I supposed to choose?”
Each one represented decades.
Perhaps centuries.
Of mastery.
Any ordinary swordsman would give up almost anything to claim even one.
Unfortunately, the shrine had rules.
The ancient voice echoed once more.
“One Armament.”
“One Combat Scripture.”
“Greed forfeits all.”
Dylan let out a slow breath.
After much debate with himself, Dylan finally reached a conclusion.
He let out a slow breath and looked toward the countless manuals suspended in the air.
“Raw power can wait.”
His hand drifted toward one particular jade slip.
[Nine Bends Flowing River Sword Art]
Unlike the others, it didn’t radiate an oppressive aura.
Instead, it flowed with quiet elegance, ribbons of pale blue mana circling the manual like gentle currents around a river stone.
Dylan smiled faintly.
“This suits me better.”
The Roaring Dragon Sword Art was devastating, but it was, in the end, Ethan’s Scripture a technique meant for a protagonist who could afford to be reckless, whose infinite leveling system let him charge headfirst into overwhelming odds and walk away stronger.
Dylan wanted the [Roaring Dragon Sword Art] badly, badly enough to consider taking it from Ethan outright.
But the risk was too great.
The Crimson Chrysanthemum Blade Song was no different in that regard; its destructive beauty came at the cost of enormous mana, burning through reserves faster than most cultivators could ever hope to replenish.
Neither fit his current circumstances.
He was still weak.
His mana reserves were laughably small.
His body had only recently recovered from life-threatening injuries.
He didn’t need the strongest swordsmanship.
He needed one that would allow him to survive.
The Nine Bends Flowing River Sword Art emphasized efficiency over force.
Every movement flowed naturally into the next, conserving stamina, minimizing wasted motion, and redirecting an opponent’s strength instead of meeting it head-on.
It was a style that rewarded patience, precision, and technique rather than overwhelming power.
Most importantly it could grow alongside its wielder.
Its nine techniques were designed to be mastered one step at a time, each forming the foundation for the next until the complete art resembled an unbroken river carving through mountains.
“…Perfect.”
Without another moment of hesitation, Dylan reached out and took hold of the jade slip.
The jade slip floated gently into his hand.
The moment he infused a thread of mana into it.
The entire Scripture dissolved into countless streams of light.
Knowledge flooded his mind.
Footwork.
Sword forms.
Breathing methods.
Mana circulation.
The first of nine techniques engraved itself deeply into his consciousness as though he had spent years practising it.
Pain exploded behind his eyes.
“…Ghk—!”
His vision blurred.
The chamber spun violently.
Before he could react everything vanished.