Armad invoked his powerful spell of Kaban shisu, transporting himself instantly from his current location to where his brother, Sufa, stood. As he materialized, he wasted no time in launching a savage attack. He struck Sufa with a ferocity that required no lightning, just the raw power of his physical strength. The first punch landed with a sickening thud on Sufa’s abdomen, followed swiftly by a crushing blow to his face. Within mere minutes, Armad had battered his brother with a relentless barrage of 15 to 20 bone-crunching hits. Blood began to seep from Sufa’s mouth, and his eyes started to glaze over, showing the first signs of unconsciousness. Any semblance of courage had drained from him entirely.
At the beginning of the assault, Sufa had attempted to speak, struggling to convey that he was merely a messenger of Emperor Ayrion and that any act of violence against him would be reported, but Armad was beyond listening. He didn’t allow Sufa to finish his statement, cutting him off with another brutal strike. Armad’s assault was unrelenting, targeting every part of Sufa’s body until he was sure his brother understood the vast disparity in their strength and resolve. Despite the intensity of his attack, Armad had no desire to end his brother’s life.
As the rage-fueled blows rained down, a memory from the past resurfaced in Armad’s mind. He recalled a previous duel with Sufa, where the battle had been fiercely one-sided. From the outset, Sufa had the advantage, yet he didn’t achieve victory easily. Instead, he had ruthlessly wounded Armad, inflicting injuries so severe that Armad spent three agonizing days in the hospital. This memory burned in Armad’s mind, fueling his current actions with a desire for retribution.
Armad’s current quest for revenge was not solely his own. He recognized that much of his anger stemmed from the spirit of the deceased Armad, whose unresolved fury still lingered within him. Nevertheless, Armad himself also felt the sting of betrayal and the thirst for vengeance. He was a man who prided himself on his sense of justice. Throughout his time on the third earth, Armad had been known for his fairness and his refusal to oppress those who had done him no harm. However, he was equally known for his unyielding stance against those who wronged him, and his brother was no exception.
With a determined clench of his fist, Armad summoned his lightning, imbuing his hand with crackling energy. He delivered a final, devastating punch to Sufa’s chest. The lightning coursed through Sufa’s body, reaching his core and causing him to convulse in pain. Blood gushed from Sufa’s mouth, mirroring the grievous wound he had once inflicted on Armad during their past duel. This act of retaliation was a symbolic gesture, a reminder of the suffering Sufa had caused.
Surprisingly, the system seemed content with the punishment Armad had dealt out. The voice of the system began to echo in his ears, “You have achieved a great victory over the blood of Wilberforce. You have achieved a great victory over the blood of Wilberforce.” The system repeated this phrase four times before continuing, “From now on, the system will open all the doors to increasing the toughness of your skin. Places that once seemed like walls to you will now become passages.”
Upon hearing this, Armad’s face frowned in understanding. He realized what the system meant. Despite the numerous pills he had ingested to enhance his skin’s toughness, his progress had inexplicably stalled. His skin’s toughness should have already reached 100%, allowing him to move on to fortifying his muscle toughness. He had long known that as he progressed in increasing his skin’s toughness, the efficacy of the pills he took would diminish.
Armad had assumed that the delay in increasing his skin’s toughness was akin to the delays cultivators experience when advancing their cultivation at higher levels. It was common knowledge that as one reached higher cultivation stages, the process became exponentially more challenging and time-consuming. However, the system now revealed that this assumption was incorrect. He simply needed to accomplish something specific to expedite his skin toughness. This revelation meant that there was a hidden requirement he had not met, which had been hindering his progress. Regardless of the reason, Armad was pleased with the news from the system. It provided him with a clear path forward and renewed hope that he could break through his current bottleneck.
As Armad stopped smashing Sufa and stood up, he noticed the two judges—his own and the one accompanying Sufa—rapidly approaching the dueling ground. Armad’s judge was deeply concerned that Armad’s anger might lead him to kill his brother, an act that could result in severe consequences for their father. The judge knew that fratricide would not only bring dishonor to the family but also incur the wrath of their powerful patriarch. He feared the repercussions that could follow such a tragic outcome.
On the other hand, the judge accompanying Sufa rushed to rescue him, knowing full well that he would be held accountable for any harm that befell him. He would be blamed for allowing the duel to occur in the first place and for failing to intervene when it became clear that Sufa’s life was in danger. The weight of this responsibility pressed heavily on him. He had witnessed the brutality of the fight and understood that his duty was to ensure the safety of both participants, especially when one of them was at risk of fatal injury.
This urgency drove both judges to arrive simultaneously, intent on restraining Armad and preventing any further harm. They moved with a sense of desperation, knowing that any delay could result in irreversible consequences. However, before they could reach him, Armad had already ceased his assault and stood up, halting his attack on his brother.
Armad took a moment to glance at the judges before shifting his gaze to the people standing in lines. They were his battalion and his people—loyal and steadfast. The sight of happiness and pride on their faces, especially his legion of 2,000 soldiers who had journeyed with him from the capital city, filled Armad with a profound sense of accomplishment. It was the kind of joy and pride that comes from achieving a long-sought goal. Overcoming his siblings, a challenge that had haunted him since childhood, was finally within his grasp. He had yearned to teach them a lesson. Despite their consistent victories over him in duels, he had never ceased his efforts. Each time his cultivation or Miyura's power increased, he sought another duel. Yet, time and again, they defeated him soundly, leaving him without a single victory until he departed from the capital city.
Now, one of Armad’s deepest ambitions had been realized. As he stood there, he felt a peculiar sensation in his body, as if the lingering spirit of the deceased Armad was finally dissipating. It seemed that this ambition had anchored the spirit to the world, preventing it from fading away completely. The spirit’s unresolved anger had kept it tethered to this realm. But now, seeing the present Armad retaliate on its behalf, the spirit found peace and began to leave. The body and spirit were now fully Armad’s, and the remnants of the deceased Armad’s spirit were so faint that Armad could hardly sense them without intense focus.
Armad sighed heavily, contemplating the shift within him. He pondered whether the system’s recent gift was due to the diminishing presence of the deceased Armad’s spirit or a reward for his victory. This victory had been a significant one—did it mean that continued triumphs over powerful bloodlines would bring further rewards from the system? Or was there more to it? These questions lingered in his mind, yet they did not worry him. What Armad desired now were solitude and meditation. He needed to take the skin toughness pills and see if his skin’s resilience would continue to improve, enhancing his physical prowess.
Meanwhile, the judges rushed to Prince Sufa, who was still alive and breathing, though clearly in distress. Armad had left him conscious but weakened. In their haste, they carried him to the palace, moving swiftly through the corridors. Without delay, they reached the palace hospital, where medical attendants were already prepared to receive him. The palace hospital, equipped with the best healers and resources, was their only hope of stabilizing Prince Sufa’s condition.
Armad deliberately withheld his healing pills from giving them to his brother for his healing, despite having them in abundance. Even the lower-ranking soldiers in his battalion possessed these valuable remedies. The reason for his refusal was deeply personal: he wanted his brother to endure the pain, a reflection of the suffering Armad himself had previously experienced at his brother’s hands. This decision was not made lightly but with a sense of poetic justice. Thus, he left his brother’s care to the palace physicians, who were competent but lacked the miraculous efficiency of the healing pills.
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Standing before his battalion, Armad prepared to deliver a long-overdue speech to celebrate their recent victories against the nine towns. The opportunity to commend his soldiers had not arisen before, as he and Nusi, along with a portion of the battalion, had swiftly moved on to conquer the defeated towns. Now, with the immediate threats quelled, it was time to acknowledge their bravery and sacrifices.
Armad stood tall and commanding, his presence alone inspiring respect and loyalty. He smiled, clenched his fist, and raised it high, a gesture that had come to symbolize strength and unity. “The town of Tiriba thanks you,” he began, his voice resonating with authority. “Each of you will receive an additional gift of 5,000 Airids, on top of what you have already gained from the spoils of war. This reward is a token of our gratitude for your unwavering courage and dedication.”
“The town of Tiriba and I, King Armad, hope you will continue to demonstrate your bravery,” he continued, his eyes sweeping across the assembled soldiers. “Furthermore, there is a special gift for all soldiers who have yet to awaken their core. In the next four days, we want all the soldiers who participated in the recent battle and have not yet awakened their core to gather at the palace entrance gate early in the morning, around 6:00. Come fully prepared and bid farewell to your families, as you may be away for several days. I believe you will be pleased with the gift awaiting you.”
Armad paused to let his words sink in, then smiled again and raised his hand in a final gesture of farewell before turning to leave. His departure was deliberate, allowing his soldiers to absorb the significance of his message and the promise of what was to come.
Instantly, the battalion erupted in cheers. The promise of the two gifts—the 5,000 Airids and the seals believed to awaken their cores—ignited a fervor among the soldiers. They understood the immense value of these rewards. The additional Airids represented a substantial increase in wealth, while the seals held the potential to unlock their latent powers, a transformation that could elevate their status and capabilities significantly.
Their belief in Armad’s promises was unwavering. The soldiers began chanting Armad’s name proudly, their voices echoing through the area.
After addressing his soldiers, Armad went directly to his chamber. The first thing he did was to summon his judge and inquire about the progress made regarding the mysterious herbs and their potential to awaken the core. The judge reported, with a hint of frustration, that his investigation had been unsuccessful so far. He explained that, despite administering the herbs to selected individuals, none had managed to awaken their core. The judge further suggested that two crucial elements were necessary for the herbs to be effective in awakening a cultivator’s core: the presence of the herbs themselves and a state of fear in the cultivator’s heart. He proposed that the individuals intended to awaken their core should be placed in situations that induce fear, such as battle or hunting.
Armad listened intently and nodded in understanding. The judge’s explanation resonated with him, especially considering how Ai and her assistant had successfully awakened their cores while using the herbs in a state of battle and fear. It appeared that both elements—herbs and fear—needed to be present simultaneously for the core to awaken.
Armad took a deep breath and shook his head thoughtfully. “That’s why I gave our battalion four days,” he said. “I hope that in the next four days, we can do whatever is necessary to awaken their cores, whether it involves taking them hunting or any other method you deem appropriate. I need to know your plan within the next three days. By the fourth day, I need all the soldiers in our battalion to start awakening their cores.”
The judge opened his mouth, wanting to express his concerns. He felt that Armad was rushing the process by ordering the soldiers to come in just four days. He wished he could complete his experiments first to ensure better results. However, Armad had deliberately set the four-day deadline to put pressure on the judge and the test subjects, making them more eager to complete the experiment. Armad knew that if a leader gave an order without specifying a deadline, the task could take an indefinite amount of time. Despite his young age, Armad understood the importance of setting clear expectations and deadlines to ensure timely results.
The judge hesitated but then nodded, understanding Armad’s reasoning. “Very well, my lord,” he said. “I will devise a plan and ensure that we are prepared to initiate the awakening process within the next four days. We will use the herbs and create scenarios that induce fear, such as simulated battles or hunting exercises. We must maximize our chances of success.”
Armad nodded approvingly. “Good. I trust your judgment. Remember, the awakening of the core is vital for our soldiers’ strength and our future endeavors. We cannot afford to delay this any longer.”
They spent several minutes discussing their strategy for awakening the core of their soldiers before Armad dismissed the judge and moved to his inner chamber.
To ensure security, Armad assigned five devas to guard Prince Sufa, making sure he wouldn't be able to sneak out at night and cause any harm. Armad was well aware of his younger brother's cunning nature and potential for mischief, which prompted him to take these precautions.
Inside his inner chamber, Armad meticulously placed several amulets around the room, forming a protective cycle to shield his activities from prying eyes. He then looked inside his magical bag, which now contained over 2,000 pills that resembled the color of human skin.
Reflecting on his journey back to the town of Tiriba, Armad recalled the many days he spent traveling. During this time, he didn't rely solely on the spell of Kaban Shisu. Whenever he encountered demonic animals, he would stop and kill them, despite his haste. He would often make a fire, cook the meat of these creatures, and eat it. This practice not only provided him with sustenance but also allowed the system to produce the precious pills, albeit in limited quantities. Each time Armad consumed the meat of demonic animals, the system generated these pills. This consistent effort enabled him to gather over 2,000 pills. Additionally, he consumed various leaves and herbs along his journey, which further contributed to the total number of pills.
Once inside his chamber, Armad clenched his teeth and began consuming the pills in earnest. As he swallowed each one, he felt the familiar, excruciating pain—a sensation as if his skin were being burnt and cut with a knife. Despite the intensity, the pain did not diminish. However, Armad had grown accustomed to it, knowing that enduring this agony would bring significant benefits.
He continued to clench his teeth as he felt the toughness of his skin steadily increase. From 60% to 70%, and then to 75%, the transformation was gradual but undeniable. Time seemed to crawl, and Armad remained oblivious to the happenings outside his chamber. When he finally opened his eyes, he realized that the toughness of his skin had reached an impressive 99%. This meant he was only 1% away from achieving the ultimate goal of 100% skin toughness—a milestone he had longed to reach. Reaching 100% would signify the completion of his skin's enhancement, allowing him to focus on increasing the toughness of his muscles next.
The thought of this filled Armad's heart with joy. Driven by this excitement, he began taking handfuls of pills and consuming them without counting. He spent three relentless hours repeating this process, yet he still hadn't achieved the remaining 1% needed to reach 100% skin toughness. Just as frustration began to set in, he was startled by the unexpected sound of the system's voice in his ears.
A congratulatory message from the system appeared: "Congratulations! You have the opportunity to increase the toughness of your skin by up to 100%. You can now start enhancing your muscles by increasing their power and toughness. Congratulations!"
The system repeated this message up to three times. However, there was still no sign of happiness on Armad's face. Despite the system's assurances, his skin toughness remained at 99%, not the complete 100% that he had been expecting. What was going on? Did the system have a glitch and report an error, or was something else at play?
Armad paused to assess the situation. He decided to give the system approximately five minutes to finish its report, hoping that the issue would resolve itself. Yet, even after waiting, the 99% did not budge to 100%. The system continued to insist he had reached 100%, but the reality was different. What did this inconsistency mean?
A moment of silence enveloped Armad as he pondered the situation. It was then that he came to a startling realization: his body was not covered with his usual skin, but rather something thick and coarse, reminiscent of the hide of a crocodile that had been submerged in water without sunlight for over a century. The roughness of his skin was now more pronounced than ever before.
In a state of urgency, Armad reached into his magical bag and began extracting skin-lightening pills. He threw them into his mouth without counting, filling his hand with pills and swallowing them rapidly, hoping to counteract the roughness.
With each skin-lightening pill he ingested, the roughness of his skin diminished slightly. However, Armad's anxiety grew. He feared that he might run out of pills before his skin could return to normal. The situation was particularly concerning because he had guests in his palace and needed to present himself properly. Additionally, he realized he had no idea how many days he had spent in meditation. He needed to check on his impolite brother and assess the state of affairs outside his meditation chamber.
He continued taking the skin-lightening pills, but the supply was dwindling. Now, he had fewer than 100 pills left, and there was still significant roughness on his skin, covering him from his face down to his toes. It became increasingly evident that the remaining pills would not be enough to restore his skin to its normal state. Desperation began to set in. What should he do?