Heaven's Eyes

Etched in Lightning

Gale Edge Blade

“As fast as the wind, sharp as lightning. A speed-based technique that emphasizes agility and momentum.”

Rank: Low

Difficulty: Moderate

Requirement: First Rank of the Martial Path

Draconic Burst Fist

“Concentrates internal strength into explosive power. Excellent for overwhelming stronger foes in a single blow.”

Rank: Peak Middle

Difficulty: High

Requirement: Second Rank of the Martial Path

Gale Step

“A high-speed close-combat footwork style. Excels at multi-target engagements and battlefield evasion.”

Rank: Middle

Difficulty: High (Requires strong perception and adaptability)

Requirement: First Rank of the Martial Path

Iron Sand Body

“A defensive technique that reinforces the skin and muscles. At higher mastery, the user can clash with blades unarmed.”

Rank: Middle

Difficulty: High (Requires strong willpower)

Requirement: Second Rank of the Martial Path

Emmet’s eyes narrowed as he flipped through each manual, fingers gliding across the aged parchment.

Less than thirty minutes.

That was all the time he had to make a decision that could alter his future forever.

And this time, he wouldn’t let the opportunity pass him by.

“The techniques here are leagues beyond anything I’ve trained before,” he whispered, awe in his voice. “Just as I hoped.”

Excitement buzzed in his chest. The martial arts stored in the archive were far superior to the crude core-rank form he had used before. Most of the shelves were filled with true mid-rank techniques, and after browsing just a few dozen, he already felt torn between several strong choices.

Unfortunately, the rules were ironclad.

One mid-rank technique. No exceptions.

If only I could take more than one… he thought, bitterness rising. Core disciples get two. I’m stuck with one.

He clenched his jaw.

Then, an idea sparked.

He activated his third eye.

Immediately, his perception sharpened, and his reading speed multiplied tenfold.

Shuah, shuah, shuah...

He swept down the rows of shelves like a man possessed, flipping through manuals at breakneck speed. Every word, every diagram, every note etched itself instantly into his memory.

In less than three minutes, he had scanned and internally compared more than thirty complete techniques.

Then, he paused.

His brow furrowed.

Wait a second…

His mind snapped back through everything he had read.

Every page, every sentence... was still there. Immaculate. Fully detailed. As if he were still holding the books in his hands.

A thrill shot down his spine.

My memory… it’s perfect.

Since merging with the deity’s eye, his mind had become a living vault. A single glance, and it was stored forever. Not just sharp recollection true eidetic recall.

On the continent, people whispered of geniuses who retained 80 to 90 percent of what they read. They were revered as “ink sages.”

But Emmet was beyond even that.

He couldn’t forget if he tried.

Which means... I don’t need to pick just one. Not really. I can take them all.

His breath caught.

“Faster… keep going!” he whispered.

He moved like a storm, now shuah, shuah, shuah, a blur of motion through the archive. Every book he touched was swallowed whole into his memory.

Fist forms, sword arts, internal breathing patterns, footwork, body forging...

In just twenty breaths, he could memorize a full 50-page manual.

“Hahaha... This is insane,” he muttered under his breath, eyes wide with exhilaration. “I’ve stolen the entire archive.”

Some nearby disciples looked his way.

“Uh… I think that guy’s losing it.”

“He’s just excited. Let him have his moment.”

They shook their heads and moved on, none understanding what Emmet was truly doing.

Time vanished.

By the time he’d burned through three-quarters of his time slot, Emmet had absorbed over a hundred manuals.

His mind buzzed, a thunderstorm of knowledge colliding behind his eyes. Even the divine eye itself was starting to wear down, its edges tinged with strain.

He turned toward a final row, intent on squeezing out every last moment.

And that’s when he saw it.

A dusty, weathered manual, tucked on a low shelf. The binding was different, older, thicker. Time-worn.

Curious, he picked it up.

The title read:

Lightfoot Drift

High-rank footwork technique. Allows movement across snow without leaving tracks, skimming across water, and drifting like a bird in flight. At higher mastery, enables midair dashes and gliding. Requires at least Second Rank. Gains strength when paired with Inner Strength. At peak, it surpasses the speed of all techniques below the Seventh Rank.

Emmet’s heart skipped.

Midair movement…

Even among elite martial arts, that was rare. And this one evolved its effectiveness, growing alongside the user’s cultivation level.

But it was the final line that stunned him:

Grants unmatched speed beneath the Seventh Rank of the Martial Path.

He stared, pulse racing.

That kind of claim bordered on blasphemy.

He flipped eagerly to the next page and froze.

The ink was blurred. The edges of the paper crumbled with mold. Half the page was unreadable.

Only a fourth of the manual remained intact.

“…Damn.”

Disappointment surged, but he didn’t give up.

Activating his divine eye to full power, he scanned the faded pages again.

To the naked eye, they were blank. But with his enhanced perception, the faintest remnants of ink shimmered back to life.

Every word he recovered burned his energy.

His mind grew foggy. His eye stung.

But he pushed on.

If I take this with me… I can reconstruct it over time.

He brought the manual to the exit desk.

“Lightfoot Drift?” the white-robed elder asked, eyeing the book with a frown. “You’re choosing this one?”

“Yes, Elder,” Emmet said, voice steady.

The elder stepped closer, tone serious. “This technique is ancient. Over a thousand years old. And while it surpasses most high-rank arts in theory, it’s incomplete. Only a quarter is intact. Even if you were a genius, it would be nearly impossible to master. And without reaching the Fourth Rank, its potential will remain locked.”

He crossed his arms. “I strongly suggest choosing another.”

Emmet bowed deeply. “Thank you for your guidance, Elder. But I’ve made my decision.”

The elder shook his head as he watched Emmet leave.

These young ones... always chasing legends.

Back in his room, Emmet collapsed onto his bed and shut his eyes.

Immediately, the knowledge returned perfect and complete. The contents of over a hundred manuals, ordered and indexed like a living library.

He laughed aloud, overcome by the sheer magnitude of what he’d just accomplished.

But the moment was cut short.

Inside the void of his mind, a new book materialized.

Deity’s Path

The glowing button was gone. In its place, this silent tome hovered.

Inside, there were only two names: Jack Reed and ???? each occupying a page. The rest was blank.

What am I supposed to do with this? Emmet wondered, brow furrowed.

Still, it could wait.

In Thunder Country, even a mid-tier art could cost hundreds of silver. With his ten-silver monthly stipend, most techniques were forever out of reach.

And while theft from the archive was punishable by exile or destruction of cultivation, Emmet had taken nothing physically.

His 3rd eye had done all the work.

Now came the hard part: choosing what to train first.

After careful evaluation, he settled on four:

Lightfoot Drift

A divine-tier movement technique, even in its broken state. He would reconstruct it with time.

Draconic Burst Fist

A brutal mid-rank combat art that turned internal strength into raw explosive force.

Forceflow Breathing Technique

A peak mid-rank method that refines blood, resilience, and inner energy. It was the key to unlocking Inner Strength.

Meteor Cascade Arrows

A long-range technique nearing high-rank, perfectly suited to Emmet’s divine eye precision. The path to becoming a marksman.

He smiled.

With these… I can rise above them all.

He began with Forceflow Breathing.

Settling into meditation, he activated the first phase.

Heat swelled through his body.

Blood rushed. Energy flowed.

Already?

Shock filled him. The manual claimed it took days just to sense blood flow.

No… It’s the 3rd eye.

The divine eye had supercharged his understanding, his control, and his connection to his body.

Peh, peh...

The heartbeat echoed from his eye.

Inside the void, the spinning purple light flared brighter.

Half a day passed.

His body glistened with sweat. Toxins seeped from his pores.

He had reached the first level.

Thirty percent increase in strength...

By evening, he was nearing the peak of stage one.

So he switched.

Draconic Burst Fist.

It was meant to be paired with Forceflow, and it showed.

In half a day, he had memorized and grasped all 81 forms.

The synergy was incredible. Every breath powered his fists. Every strike fed his flow.

By the fifth day, his body neared the Second Rank’s peak.

Just a little more…

And Third Rank would be within reach.

He could feel it.

Right there.

Waiting.

But even as Emmet trained, something else was unfolding.

The button that once linked him to that strange, ancient mindscape was gone.

And in its place… a book now floated.

Deity’s Path.

It contained only one name and question marks: Jack Reed and ?????. The rest of the pages were blank. What it meant, Emmette didn’t yet understand, nor did he know the same thing had happened to Jack.

But right now, Jack didn’t have time to decipher it.

Because the academy was buzzing.

“Did you hear? That teacher Cole Xander challenged the bottom-ranked instructor at the academy, Jack Reed!”

“They actually competed? Cole's a mid-tier instructor. Jack was supposed to be a nobody. What happened?”

“You won’t believe it. Jack Reed won.”

“What?! No way!”

“I saw it myself. He guided a student in just one session and doubled their strength on the spot!”

“No teacher, not even Professor Lu could pull that off on the first try!”

“I thought he scored a zero on the Teaching Assessment...?”

“That’s why it’s insane! Everyone saw it happen in the cafeteria!”

Rumors blazed like wildfire across Astoria Academy, and students clustered together in awe and disbelief.

At one corner table, Zara Vale crossed her arms, unimpressed. “Please. That has to be pure luck.”

Zara wasn’t just any student. She was the daughter of Baron Vale, governor of Skyreach Province’s third-largest city. She had trained with elite tutors and had one goal at Astoria, to become a student of the famed Professor Lu, the academy’s most accomplished instructor.

She had never even heard of Jack Reed until today.

“Luck? I don’t know…” a nearby student replied. “An entire fold increase in strength? That’s not something luck can explain.”

Zara rolled her eyes. “You clearly don’t know who Jack Reed is. He scored a zero on the Teacher Certification Exam and nearly got expelled. That man is a walking joke. If you don’t believe me, I’ll expose his act myself.”

She stood from her seat, her sharp voice drawing attention. “Let’s go. I’ll show you what kind of fraud he really is.”

Two students stood with her, eager to follow.

They exited the cafeteria and, after asking around, quickly found their way to Jack Reed’s lecture room.

Without knocking, Zara pushed open the door.