Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1381 A Commotion for the Sword

Having devoted yet another complete month inside the Dimension of Time to honing his Void Severing Star Scripture, Max at last resolved to venture forth and hunt for materials that would propel him past the concluding phases of Divine Rank toward the Rebirth Realm.

His sword intent had sharpened further while becoming more serene, and his assurance felt solid instead of overbearing. Yet, right as he geared up to exit his dwelling, a subtle crease formed on his brow.

Via his Three Dimensional Body, Max detected a multitude of auras dispersed near his quarters. Certain ones concealed their energies clumsily from atop roofs and hallways, others lingered boldly by doorways like hunters watching quarry, and a few even lounged with shut eyes, keeping a slender sense focused on his chamber.

The sheer volume of individuals exceeded his expectations, and their motives shone through without any disguise.

"What's happening out there?" Max pondered, halting just before the door. He held back from bursting out and instead eavesdropped silently, letting the talks beyond drift into his hearing. After a few minutes of tuning in, the full picture sharpened in his mind, and a chilly grin crept across his mouth.

"They're all fixated on my sword Dragonheart," Max scoffed to himself. Once word got out about him seizing the blade of the Dragonheart Sword Sovereign, it was bound to rattle endless sword cultivators.

For those folks, Dragonheart wasn't just a tool but an emblem of ultimate sword dominance, and the notion of it ending up with a fresh outer disciple struck them as intolerable.

"They figure that by dueling me and winning, they'll seize my sword," Max mused with silent contempt. "If that's their view of things, they're even stupider than I'd guessed."

Grasping this, Max swung the door wide and sauntered out with ease, his face serene and his stance loose. The very second he emerged, the vibe near his home shifted entirely.

Concealed watchers stepped into view, poised challengers stiffened up, and stares brimming with avarice, envy, and drive fixed upon him.

"Max, I challenge you," a youth bellowed right away, advancing with a piercing aura. "Do you have the guts to take me on? We'll wager your sword in this fight."

Before Max could reply, another tone cut in. "So you're the one who snatched the Sword Sovereign's blade. I doubt you're fit to hold that weapon. Surrender it if you lose, or face me if you've got the spine."

Further calls erupted nearby, clashing with raw antagonism and thrill. Demands for duels flew freely, some courteous, some haughty, all revolving around one prize.

Max remained still, absorbing their words without any fury showing. His gaze stayed steady, though beneath it lurked a keen and perilous glint. He sensed no peril.

Instead, what hit him was the stark truth that from the instant he gripped Dragonheart, tranquility had turned into something he could no longer afford.

"You want my sword? Guess what, you won't be getting it." Max declared with a loud sneer. "Now piss off!"

"What did he say?" one disciple blurted out in shock, his eyes bulging as if his ears deceived him after Max's bold words rang out for all to hear.

"He told us to piss off?" another echoed deliberately, his cheeks burning with rage as his energy surged wildly from the insult of such offhand rejection.

"This kid's way too cocky!" a sword cultivator roared in fury. "He acts like grabbing the Dragonheart Sword lets him walk over us all."

"Does he get how many crave that blade?" another snarled from the throng. "That sword's meant for the Divine Realm, not some newbie outer disciple."

"Hah, this gets intriguing," a steadier tone remarked with an icy chuckle. "The bolder he gets, the more I know I have to rip that sword from his grasp."

"He provokes us right to our faces," yet another disciple hissed through gritted teeth. "Perfect. Now nobody can claim we're ganging up when we call him out."

"That's his response?" a female voice murmured, her look piercing and shrewd. "Alright. If he won't yield it nicely, we'll claim it through a proper duel."

Around Max, the atmosphere tightened as animosity built up, fury, desire, and aspiration mixing fiercely, while endless gazes blazed with resolve, since his retort hadn't scattered them but rather sparked a fiercer threat.

Max released a gradual breath as he pressed on ahead, his pace deliberate and firm amid the pressure closing in. He understood full well that outright battles were banned outside approved fighting fields, duel areas, and official sparring spots.

No matter their greed or wrath, these disciples wouldn't risk striking at him in the open here. Thanks to that regulation, he wove through the assembly fearlessly, brushing off their glaring looks like mere chatter.

Still, the group had zero plans to break up. They trailed him tightly, their steps resounding after his, their sights glued to his form like he was game that could vanish in a moment.

Max let out another sigh upon seeing the mob wasn't dwindling at all.

Right when he started pondering ways to handle this without stirring more trouble, a crisp and authoritative cry echoed over the space, slicing through the low talks and mutters like a knife.

"Everyone get away!"

The tone belonged to a woman, crisp and demanding, and as soon as Max caught it, a twinge of recognition hit him. That sound was known to him from before. Before he could linger on it, the dense cluster started splitting, followers pulling back on reflex as though an unseen force shoved them.

Quickly, a pair of forms appeared through the gap. Leading was Carl, advancing with poise and surety, his mere aura enough to make a few avert their stares. Next to him was the voice's source, Lucia Grimes, her face stern and commanding as her glance scanned the onlookers.

"Damn, the Grimes Family's stepped in," one hissed quickly while backing up more. "Stay clear of Max."

"I knew Max had ties to the Grimes Family, but Lucia Grimes showing up personally for him? That's wild," another disciple breathed in astonishment. "Unbelievable."

"So now with the Grimes Family supporting him, we can't lay a finger on Max?" a third tone fretted, the prior boldness vanished entirely.

"What do you mean touch him," a holdout grumbled defiantly. "We're just pushing for honest duels. If he won't even take one on, he's unworthy of the Thirty Third Hall."

Even with that, the faces of those encircling Max turned more tense under Lucia's watchful eye. The assurance from earlier started to fracture, giving way to wariness and discomfort.

Whatever designs they nursed for Dragonheart, it was plain now that going after Max wasn't as straightforward as mobbing him and barking orders.