Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!

Ethan stared at the strange creature, its back crowned with a pair of ragged wings from which jutted long, sickle-shaped bone blades. The Blazing Qilin's massive jaws had clamped down on its torso, but those same bone blades had been driven deep into the Qilin's eyes. That, Ethan realized, must have been what killed it.

The Blazing Qilin was immune to any kind of fire—its body couldn't be burned, even after death. Though it had been lying in molten rock for who knew how long, its flesh remained untouched. But this other creature was equally unscathed, and Ethan could feel a faint, alien pulse of life still flickering inside it.

"What is that?" Red Snow—whom he still instinctively thought of as Reddie—glared at the corpse, her voice tinged with loathing.

Ethan shook his head. He didn't know. No one could.

The two corpses floated upward through the lava until a massive slab drifted into view beneath them, lifting their bodies out of the molten current. The fiery red longsword was there as well, resting against the strange creature's clawed foot. Lava streamed off the slab's surface, revealing its true form.

Ethan's frown deepened. The aura rolling off the slab was eerily similar to the energy in the massive chain they'd been standing on moments before. But that wasn't what truly unsettled him. The slab's design—it was identical to the colossal gates of the Underworld he had once seen, only shrunk down a thousandfold. Even the icy, deathly breath that seeped from it was the same. No wonder the chain had felt familiar yet wrong when they first stepped onto it.

After watching the slab and the corpses for several tense moments and sensing no immediate threat, Ethan pulled Red Snow down from the chain. Their boots touched the wooden surface with a dull thud. The wood groaned faintly under their weight, a low creak that made Ethan's teeth clench. The slab might have been hundreds of feet across, but the sound made him half expect it to splinter beneath them.

He didn't relax for a second. In his old life, when he'd been a rogue, the prickling sense he felt now usually meant he'd been spotted in stealth—or worse, another rogue was already hunting him. In this place, that kind of instinct could only mean trouble.

They edged forward until the longsword was within reach. The blade's hilt was clenched in the strange creature's clawed foot, as though it had refused to let go even in death. Its body was gaunt, no more than gray skin stretched over bone, yet the weapon it held radiated crushing, world-breaking power. Ethan didn't need to test it—he knew this was a Divine-tier weapon.

"What you sensed earlier—was it your ancestor, or the sword?" he asked quietly.

"The sword," she said without hesitation.

Ethan gave a short nod, intending to tell her to claim it, but she had already turned away. She approached the Blazing Qilin's body instead, her hands trembling.

Though the creature had been dead for longer than she could comprehend, she had felt it the instant she saw it—a deep resonance in her bloodline. She dropped to her knees and bowed, her voice low and reverent. "Ancestor… forgive Red Snow's disrespect."

She spread her arms, and a wave of strange, cold-white fire erupted around her. It wasn't ordinary flame—it was her own life fire, born of her lineage. The moment it touched the Blazing Qilin's body, the unthinkable happened: the beast that could never be burned began to ignite from within. In seconds, the thousand-meter-long corpse had crumbled into a handful of ash, vanishing into the air.

Ethan could only stare.

"The Blazing Qilin fears nothing in the realms," she explained softly, "except the life flames of its own kind. I burned my ancestor's remains so that its soul can find its way home. It's something every one of my kind is sworn to do, should we find one of our own lying dead beyond our homeland."

He didn't ask why her life flames were icy cold. Some things about the Blazing Qilin, he suspected, were meant to stay secret.

When it was done, Red Snow finally turned to the sword. "Legend says that over a million years ago, a prodigy of our clan entered the Spirit Realm carrying the Blazing Rainbow Sword. Neither he nor the sword were ever seen again. It seems the legend was true."

"Is this sword… important to you?" Ethan asked.

Her eyes glittered. "It's the greatest weapon our clan ever forged—the key to opening the Blazing Sanctuary. Without it, we can't fully awaken our bloodline or inherit the power locked within our ancestral home. Because of its loss, our bloodline has weakened for generations. We were exiled from our homeland and forced to wander the starfields. By my generation… only three of us remained." She hesitated, her voice tightening. "Now, only I am left."

She told him how her parents had withered away, unable to advance their strength because their bloodline was too thin. Ethan could only shake his head. "Then why bring such a treasure into a place like this?"

"Because until now," she said with quiet pride, "no member of the Blazing Qilin clan had ever died in the Spirit Realm trials. The Blazing, Water, Earth, Metal, and Wood Qilin clans protect one another. No one would dare harm us."

But her voice softened. Though she looked like a young woman, Red Snow was already over ten thousand years old. Because of her weakened bloodline, she could never rise above the Saint rank, and her life would end in less than twenty thousand years. She had one chance to change that: return to her homeland, open the Blazing Sanctuary, claim her full inheritance, and rise to a higher realm. Then—continue her clan's line.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought, and for some reason, an image of Blackie flashed through her mind. She quickly shook it away, patting her face to clear her head.

She stepped up to the sword, reaching out to take it.

The moment her fingers brushed the hilt, the weapon shuddered violently. Red Snow coughed blood and collapsed. The crimson spray landed across the strange creature's corpse.

Ethan caught her before she hit the ground, his pulse spiking. A pale glow flared at his brow, and the Twilight Warspear dropped into his grip.

"Compress. Shred. Shred. Shred."

Three bursts of lethal skill poured into the spear. With one sweep of his arm, he sent a crescent of blood-red light slashing toward the corpse.