Steadily Upgrading Everything!

The blood rain didn't simply fall upon Benneca, it wrapped around her like living crimson threads, slithering over her body with a grotesque beauty.

Each drop hissed faintly when it touched her skin, as if the blood itself recognized her as its rightful vessel.

Slowly, unnervingly, the liquid converged into her pores, vanishing into her body as though she were a sponge drinking the essence of something ancient and malignant.

John's eyes narrowed.

He could feel it, palpably, like a second heartbeat reverberating through the chamber.

Her aura was swelling, each pulse stronger than the last, and the cavern shivered in response to her rising presence.

"She's… she's on the verge of breakthrough," John muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the constant patter of blood rain.

The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

His stomach tightened with unease, and for the first time, genuine fear began to squeeze at his chest like a vice.

A breakthrough wasn't just an increase in power, it was rebirth, an elevation.

When cultivators crossed that threshold, their instincts sharpened, their spirit strengthened, and their ruthlessness often grew proportionally.

And Benneca, someone who had already betrayed her family, murdered without hesitation, and toyed with life as if it were a game piece… what would she become once her strength doubled?

John's mind churned.

If she succeeded, what need would she have for him? She had already slaughtered one Silentsword, loyalty clearly meant nothing to her.

Even the sword she had once entrusted to him, the so-called mark of trust, could easily lose all significance once she surpassed her current realm.

If he became a liability, she wouldn't hesitate to cut him down.

His breathing grew shallow. He clenched his fists unconsciously.

A part of him screamed, Interrupt her! Kill her before it's too late!

His gaze slid toward the hilt of his weapon. His fingers itched.

He could feel his spirit energy roiling within him, begging for release.

Yet the memory of the silver bell struck him cold.

That single artifact had paralyzed Clark in an instant, rendering him helpless despite his fury.

If she still had that bell hidden among her sleeves, any attempt he made would be suicide.

"No…" John whispered, shaking his head slowly. "Not yet. I'd die before I could even land a strike."

He inhaled deeply, forcing calm back into his mind, though unease still lingered like a shadow clinging to his back.

"I'll just have to comply," he decided grimly, "and think on my feet when the situation turns bad."

The cavern groaned suddenly, as if the earth itself could feel the strain of what was happening on the throne.

The last traces of the blood rain seeped into Benneca's skin, leaving her body glowing faintly red beneath her pale flesh.

Her chest rose and fell heavily, her breaths turning into sharp hisses, as though the very act of breathing carried both agony and ecstasy.

And then...

BOOM!

The skeletal hand that had hovered protectively above her shattered without warning.

It exploded into dust, a storm of bone fragments swirling wildly before crumbling into fine gray ash.

John staggered backward at the blast, covering his eyes.

A thunderous shockwave rippled through the cavern, shaking the ground beneath his boots.

When the dust began to clear, John blinked. Floating in the air above the throne were two faintly glowing black beads, each no larger than a marble.

Their presence radiated a strange chill, colder than the deepest night.

But neither John nor Benneca noticed them at first.

The beads hovered silently, like predators biding their time.

And then, without hesitation—one of them shot forward like a dart.

It pierced into Benneca's forehead with startling precision.

Her eyes widened for the briefest moment before her body went limp.

Her head lolled to the side as if her strings had been cut, and she collapsed unconscious onto the throne.

The second bead darted toward John before he could even raise his hand. His instincts screamed at him to dodge, but it was too late.

The bead touched his forehead and sank inside.

His vision exploded into white, his body convulsed, and in that instant, he heard a faint whisper.

It wasn't a voice exactly. More like information, alien and raw, pouring directly into his consciousness. A floodgate of knowledge opening without permission.

And then darkness swallowed him whole.

The cavern fell silent. Deathly, hauntingly silent.

The red glow faded.

The torches along the walls flickered back into dull embers.

John's clone collapsed and dissolved into thin mist, leaving only his real body and Benneca's unconscious form sprawled across the throne.

The only sounds left were the faint drip of water from the cave ceiling and the echo of distant, unseen currents.

Time slipped by unnoticed. Minutes, perhaps hours.

It was John who stirred first.

His eyelids fluttered, and a dull ache pounded against the inside of his skull. Groggily, he pushed himself upright.

Every muscle felt heavy, his spirit energy sluggish, but he forced his body to move. He inhaled deeply, steadying his nerves.

"What… happened?" he murmured, pressing a hand against his forehead.

Fragments of memory resurfaced, the bead, the whisper, the flood of information. His heart skipped. "That… thing entered me."

He frowned, replaying the moment in his head.

He had barely seen it coming, only catching sight of the small bead just before it burrowed into him.

Its speed had been unimaginable.

"That's why I couldn't dodge…" he realized bitterly.

But more than that, he remembered something else.

A fleeting flash of knowledge. A technique? A memory? A seed of something alien now buried inside him.

"I… I remember it giving me something," he muttered. "Information. Before I blacked out."

The thought alone sent a shiver racing down his spine.

Without hesitation, he summoned his panel. His spirit energy responded sluggishly but obeyed.

[System Panel]

Name: John Coral

Age: 25

Cultivation: Spirit Seed Realm (1596 / 3200)

Upgrade Slot: Empty

Skills:

Meditation (Level 6 – Max)

Breathing (Level 5 – Max)

Spatial Awareness (Level 5)

Slow Toad Breathing Skill (Level 10 – Max)

Double Face Lizard Technique (Level 7 – Max)

Basic Flame Control (Level 3)

Alchemy (Level 5)

Twelve Circle Slashes (Level 4)

Soul Piercing Gaze (Level 5)

Lightning Bull Kicks (Level 3)

Death Clone Technique (Level 4 – Max)

Ten Serpents Breathing Skill (Level 1)

Demon Wraith Hand (Level 0)

John's breath caught. His pupils shrank.

There it was, an ability he had never seen before, branded into his panel as though it had always been there. Demon Wraith Hand.

He couldn't help but recall the massive skeletal hand that had hovered above Benneca, the same hand that had showered her in blood rain.

His lips parted, a tremor running through him.

"This… this came from that bead," he realized. His heart pounded, excitement and fear clashing inside him.

But before he could delve deeper into the meaning of the new technique, his gaze shifted toward Benneca.

She still lay unconscious on the throne, her breathing steady but shallow.

For now, she was vulnerable.

For now, he could strike her down.

End her schemes here and now before she became something unstoppable.

His hand twitched toward his weapon once more.

Should I?

His heart thundered in his chest.

His logic screamed yes, this was his only chance.

She had already shown her ruthlessness.

If she awoke stronger than before, her first act might very well be to eliminate him.

But another voice inside whispered differently.

If he killed her now, would the Silentsword family come after him? Would the Blue Cauldron Sect view him as a traitor, or worse, as someone who had meddled in forbidden rituals?

The air felt heavy as he stood there, frozen between choices.

Sighing he gave up and started looking for exits.

John pressed his hand against the cold stone wall, running his fingers along the rough surface as he circled the cave. His eyes darted from corner to corner, every detail scrutinized.

The faint glow from the ancient runes etched into the ground did little to comfort him, instead reminding him that this place was no ordinary cavern.

He tried pushing against the heavy iron-bound door again, but no matter how much force he used, it did not even budge.

His breathing grew heavier as the weight of realization settled on him.

"There's no way out," he muttered under his breath, frustration seeping into his voice. He slammed his fist into the stone, the impact leaving his knuckles red and raw.

The echo of the strike bounced around the chamber, mocking his helplessness.

With a heavy sigh, John turned his gaze back toward the center of the chamber. Benneca still lay motionless upon the throne-like seat, her slender frame relaxed as though she were simply asleep.

Her chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, every breath calm and steady.

John's expression darkened.

"It's good I didn't try to kill her," he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the silence. "If I had… if I had made a move, I might have sealed my own fate. Whatever power is at work here… it wouldn't have let me escape."

He let out a long sigh, the tension in his shoulders refusing to ease.

His mind whirred with calculations, all filled with grim outcomes.

But before his thoughts could go deeper, a sudden twitch caught his attention. His body stiffened instantly, eyes locking onto Benneca.

Her fingers shifted slightly, curling as if gripping something invisible.

Then, slowly, her eyelids began to tremble.

John's heart skipped a beat.

He instinctively jumped back, his hand going to the hilt of his sword as cold sweat formed on his brow. "Damn it… she's waking up already…"

Her eyes fluttered open, hazy at first, like someone lost in a dream.

She blinked several times, struggling to focus on her surroundings.

John remained silent, watching her every move with hawk-like precision, ready to react if she tried anything sudden.

Her gaze finally settled on him, and for a fleeting moment, John thought he saw confusion in her expression.

But it was gone in an instant.

She drew in a deep breath, then another, and with each cycle, her composure returned.

The fog clouding her mind seemed to evaporate, replaced by an almost frightening clarity.

Her lips curved into a faint smirk. "So… I'm still alive." Her voice was hoarse but carried an undercurrent of triumph.

John didn't answer. His knuckles whitened around the hilt of his blade.

Then, all at once, her aura surged.

A tremendous pressure erupted from her body, sweeping across the cavern like an invisible storm.

The very air seemed to tremble under its weight.

The throne beneath her groaned, small cracks spreading across its ancient surface as though it could barely withstand her newfound power.

John staggered back, his chest tightening as though a mountain had been dropped onto him.

His legs threatened to buckle, but he forced himself to stand firm.

His eyes widened in disbelief, his breath catching in his throat.

"This… this can't be…" His voice cracked as he muttered the words.

The pressure grew sharper, denser, suffocating him.

He swallowed hard, a cold chill running down his spine.

His pupils shrank as the truth became undeniable.

"Core Formation…" He whispered the words like a curse. "She reached… Core Formation Realm."

John's throat went dry. He gulped down his saliva with difficulty, every instinct screaming at him to retreat, though there was nowhere to run.

His mind was in chaos.

Just hours ago, Benneca had been at the peak of Spirit Tree Realm.

Yet now, standing before him, she had crossed the most terrifying threshold.

The gap between him and her was no longer a step, it was an abyss.

Her eyes glistened with excitement as she took in his reaction, clearly savoring the fear in his expression.

She chuckled softly, the sound laced with satisfaction. "That's right, John. You can sense it, can't you? The difference. The power."

John tightened his grip on his sword, though deep down he knew it was futile.

If she chose to kill him now, he wouldn't even have the time to blink before his head hit the ground.

His heart thumped violently in his chest, a storm of thoughts raging inside him. Do I bow my head? Do I try to reason with her? Should I pretend to be loyal, or will she see through it immediately?

One thing was certain, his life was now in her hands.