Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1622 Combat Puppets!

Instantly upon entering the sword gate, the surroundings around Max underwent a dramatic shift.

The grand, expansive square of the Violet Star Palace vanished as if it had never been. The roar of thousands, the overwhelming pressure of countless gathered geniuses, and the colossal gates all dissolved into the void.

A fierce torrent of spatial energy rushed past him, briefly blurring his vision before everything abruptly settled.

When Max's eyes fully opened, he found himself standing utterly alone within an immense arena.

It was a colossal circular battlefield, so vast that even large-scale conflicts could unfold within its confines. The ground underfoot, composed of a dark, metallic stone, was etched with innumerable intersecting sword marks.

Some were mere shallow scratches, while others were deep gashes that still radiated a palpable sharpness. Each scar upon the arena's floor seemed to whisper tales of battles long past.

Towering walls encircled the perimeter, their surfaces adorned with ancient formations that pulsed with a faint light intermittently.

Above, a boundless gray sky stretched infinitely, devoid of sun, stars, or any discernible ceiling. The entire locale felt isolated from the external world, akin to a sealed dimension constructed solely for the rigorous testing of those who dared to enter.

Not a soul was present.

There were no onlookers, no adversaries, and no elders observing from afar.

Only profound silence and an oppressive atmosphere.

Max's gaze systematically swept across the arena, his instincts heightening. This place was far from ordinary. The pervasive aura within it was cold, precise, and utterly devoid of extraneous sentiment. Every element here served a singular, unwavering purpose.

To judge.

At that precise moment, a column of pale, ethereal light descended from the heavens, completely engulfing him.

Max's body tensed instantly, but he quickly ascertained that the light posed no threat. Instead, it permeated him in layers, meticulously scanning every fiber of his being.

It coursed through his flesh, meridians, bloodline, dantian, and Qi with astonishing accuracy, as though an invisible intelligence was dissecting his capabilities without physical contact.

A cold, synthesized voice then resonated throughout the arena.

[Participant detected.]

[Commencing cultivation assessment.]

The pale light intensified for a few moments before gradually dissipating.

[Assessment concluded.]

[Participant cultivation realm: Ninth Level of Law Awakening Realm.]

Max's eyes narrowed with immediate understanding.

This was no rudimentary rune formation; it was a sophisticated artificial trial system capable of assessing cultivation levels and devising challenges accordingly. The foundational resources required to construct such a system were staggering. Even numerous prominent powers would not possess such capabilities.

Subsequently, luminous lines of text materialized in the air before him.

[Initiating Supreme Tier Assessment]

[Sword Trial Phase One]

[Trial Type: Combat Evaluation]

[Participant Realm: Ninth Level of Law Awakening Realm]

[Assigned Opponents: 100 Combat Puppets]

[Opponent Strength Standard: Five Levels Above Participant]

[Opponent Current Realm: Fifth Level of Law Refinement Realm]

Max absorbed every detail without a flicker of his eyes.

The Law Refinement Realm already surpassed his current stage, and these puppets were designed to be more than just a single level higher. They were positioned a full five levels above him within that realm. For the majority of so-called geniuses, such a trial would be deemed insurmountable.

The glowing text shifted once more.

[Reward Determination Protocol]

[The quantity of Combat Puppets vanquished will dictate the caliber of Sword Inheritance obtained for comprehension.]

[Low Performance: Basic Sword Inheritance]

[Qualified Performance: Advanced Sword Inheritance]

[Outstanding Performance: Elite Sword Inheritance]

[Exceptional Performance: Supreme Sword Inheritance]

A final line then materialized, appearing slowly.

[If unable to conquer, prioritize survival.]

Max contemplated the message for several moments, a subtle smile gracing his lips.

So, this trial disregarded lineage, background, or status. It was solely concerned with demonstrable results. Those seeking a greater inheritance had to actively claim it through combat.

Abruptly, the arena began to tremble.

At the distant edges of the battlefield, one hundred stone portals ascended from the ground, forming a perfect circle. Their surfaces fractured open one after another, emitting deep metallic clangs that reverberated across the silent arena.

From within emerged figures clad in dark, imposing armor.

They possessed humanoid forms, tall and broad-shouldered, with expressionless metallic visages and eyes that burned with crimson light. In each of their gauntleted hands rested a sword of identical make. Their movements were fluid, impeccably disciplined, and unnaturally precise.

One by one, they advanced until all one hundred stood upon the battlefield.

Then, their collective auras erupted.

The formidable pressure of a hundred adversaries, each at the Fifth Level of Law Refinement Realm, surged outwards like a ferocious tempest. The very atmosphere seemed to grow dense and heavy under their consolidated might.

Yet, Max did not falter, not even a single step backward.

He drew his sword, which shimmered with the nascent concept of severing.

Faint seven-colored lightning crackled around his fingertips as a formidable battle intent steadily emanated from his being. His gaze remained fixed upon the approaching puppets, exhibiting not a single trace of apprehension.

He recognized that the outcome of this confrontation would determine the caliber of inheritance he obtained.

Should his performance falter, he would depart with mere remnants.

Conversely, if he prevailed decisively, he would secure a sword legacy that countless prodigies would covet.

Max intensified his grasp on the sword's hilt.

A perilous smile gradually materialized on his visage as he confronted the assembled army.

If the inheritance was indeed predicated on vanquished foes, then his singular objective was clear.

He resolved to claim the ultimate reward this arena had to offer.

With that declaration, the hundred Combat Puppets commenced their advance.

They did not surge forward with the recklessness of automatons. Their movements were deliberate, perfectly synchronized, and imbued with a terrifying level of discipline. The vanguard marched directly towards Max, while the flanking units executed a gradual outward curve, intending to envelop him from both sides. The rear contingents maintained their formation, swords held aloft, poised to strike the instant any vulnerability presented itself.

It was the tactical deployment of an organized military force.

Max immediately grasped that this trial was not solely a test of raw power. It was designed to assess a participant's capacity to withstand immense pressure, confront superior cultivation, and face coordinated adversaries simultaneously.

Yet, no hint of fear resided in his eyes.

Instead, a dangerous serenity permeated his expression.

He drew a slow breath, and in the ensuing moment, incandescent seven-colored lightning surged forth from within his core.

These seven luminous currents coalesced around Max's form, flowing through his sinews, bones, meridians, and very bloodline.

The Storm King's Inheritance had awakened.

His musculature tensed with explosive potential. His senses became acutely sharpened. Even the surrounding atmosphere seemed to warp and distort under the immense, divine pressure of the lightning.

Fissures began to snake across the ground beneath his feet.

Then, Max simply vanished.

A deafening detonation echoed throughout the arena as he traversed the expanse in a single, monumental surge of velocity. Before the foremost puppets could even register a response, Max materialized before them, his sword executing a straightforward horizontal cut.

No intricate sword art embellished the strike.

No dazzling, inherited technique was employed.

It was nothing more than a fundamental sword slash, the very basic taught to novices.

Nevertheless, wielded by Max, amplified by the seven-colored lightning, and executed with impeccable timing, that unpretentious stroke severed the necks of three puppets in one fluid motion. Their severed heads arced through the air, detached from their bodies before the fallen forms could comprehend their demise.