Mo Han sat cross-legged inside his stone house, the dim light of a single luminous pearl spreading across the room. His breathing was steady, his eyes closed, his consciousness diving deep into the ocean of memories he inherited from Leo Reynold.

The knowledge was vast, like a limitless library built in his mind—scrolls of techniques, manuals, battles, failures, and insights stacked higher than the sky. Tonight, he wasn't simply skimming. He was hunting.

"Golden Crow competition…" he murmured inwardly. "For a no-restriction battle, brute strength alone won't suffice. I need speed, deception, and defense—unshakable foundations."

In the labyrinth of memories, a strand glimmered brighter than others. He reached out.

The first was a movement technique, its name carved into memory with elegance: "Shadowless Mirage Steps."

Mo Han's mind unfolded the scroll, revealing its details. Seven levels. At the first level, one could blur their form like smoke, confusing the opponent's eye. By the third level, afterimages would remain for half a breath, luring strikes into nothingness. At the peak, the seventh level, one could create seven simultaneous mirages, each moving with independent footwork, impossible to distinguish from the true body.

He imagined himself in the Golden Crow arena, seven versions of Mo Han surrounding an opponent, each one striking with precision. A faint smile touched his lips. "This will do. A sword master with shadowless steps—my enemies won't even know which blade killed them."

But speed alone was not enough. He delved deeper, searching for a sword technique suited for his killing intent. Soon, he found it: "Ecliptic Severance Technique."

This wasn't a flowing set of stances, but a quick-sword break art, honed for sudden, decisive strikes. It had six levels. At the first, the cultivator's sword strike would seem doubled, an illusory twin slicing beside the real one. By the sixth, six identical sword images would accompany the true strike, each carrying fifty percent of the killing force. Even a seasoned elder would find it impossible to defend against all six at once.

Mo Han clenched his fist, feeling the resonance of the cursed sword at his side. "Illusion and reality striking together… one cut, six deaths. Combined with the Shadowless Mirage Steps, this technique will turn the battlefield into a graveyard."

Yet his intuition told him it was not enough. Strength wasn't only attack and speed—it was the power to endure. He dove deeper into Leo Reynold's memories, his mind slicing through countless incomplete manuals until something ancient, heavy, and radiant caught his attention.

The words thundered through his sea of consciousness:

"Vajra Makuta Kavacha Durandhara."

The name alone carried the weight of a mountain. A body cultivation technique—no, more than that, a divine armor art.

He saw visions of past cultivators in Leo's memories: men whose skin gleamed like bronze, who could stand amidst storms of blades without bleeding. He saw another whose skin shimmered faintly golden, arrows bouncing off like pebbles striking steel. The manual claimed thirteen levels in total, though only seven were recorded in Leo's inheritance.

At the first level, the skin grew tougher than ordinary steel. At the third, muscles absorbed force like springs, returning damage to the attacker. At the seventh, the body became a living shield—skin like forged immortal copper, flesh like tempered iron, bones like divine jade.

And the hidden promise: if one could ever reach the legendary thirteenth level, the outer golden skin would form—an indestructible second layer that could secrete Heavenly Life Solution into the dantian. This essence would constantly replenish qi, repair injuries, and extend lifespan—making the cultivator nearly unkillable.

Mo Han's breath grew heavy. "A shield that grows within… a second body beneath the skin itself. If I master this, not even death will dare to touch me."

But his rational mind cooled his excitement. The manual was incomplete, the upper six levels missing. Still, even seven levels were enough to rival treasures most cultivators could only dream of.

He remembered how Elder Mei had asked him if he was sure of victory. Now, he knew—speed from Shadowless Mirage Steps, deception and killing intent from Ecliptic Severance, and the immortal defense of Vajra Makuta Kavacha Durandhara.

"These three… together, they are invincible in their realms," he whispered.

Jia Kai's footsteps echoed faintly outside the room. She opened the door and stepped in quietly, finding him still in meditation, sweat dripping down his face, though his body sat perfectly still. She frowned. "Mo Han, you've been at this since dawn. What are you doing?"

Mo Han opened his eyes, their gleam sharper than before. "Choosing my path."

Her brows furrowed. "You already have sword arts beyond anyone in this sect. Why do you still look unsatisfied?"

He gazed at her, his tone calm but carrying weight. "Because the world won't be satisfied with just my sword. To survive what's coming, I need speed to dodge heaven's wrath, blades to cut through armies, and a body that can carry mountains. Only then will I step into the Golden Crow arena without fear."

Chi Kai, who had been eavesdropping from the doorway, entered with a soft chuckle. "Speed, swords, and body defense? That sounds like three lives in one. Do you plan to turn into a war god, Mo Han?"

Mo Han didn't answer with words. He simply raised his hand, and the cursed sword appeared with a flash. In the dim room, its shadow split into three faint images, shimmering as if the blade itself was testing the beginnings of the Ecliptic Severance technique.

Both sisters' eyes widened slightly.

"This is only the start," Mo Han said, his voice steady. "Within two months, I'll master these arts enough to stand against any elder rank. I'll carve the path myself."

He closed his eyes again, sinking back into cultivation. Within his body, qi rushed like a river, flowing along his meridians, condensing around his skin as he began the first tempering of Vajra Makuta Kavacha Durandhara. His skin burned, reddened, then cooled, faint traces of bronze sheen flickering for a breath before fading.

He gritted his teeth against the pain. "So this is the cost of wearing an immortal's armor…"

Jia Kai and Chi Kai exchanged glances, both torn between admiration and worry.

"His body," Chi Kai whispered, "isn't like ours. He's pushing himself beyond what normal men could endure."

"Not normal men," Jia Kai corrected softly. "He is Mo Han."

Outside, the night deepened. Inside the stone house, the sound of bones cracking faintly mixed with the quiet roar of Mo Han's qi as he forced his body into the beginning of an unshakable shield.

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