Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1626 Connection with the Concept of Severing Sword!

"Hold on a moment..."

His eyes widened, pupils constricting.

"I attained the Severing Sword Concept from within the Sword Saint's Tomb."

The memory surged back with striking clarity.

An immeasurable graveyard unfolded before him. Countless swords were plunged into the earth, forming a dense, grave-like forest. Some blades lay broken in two, others bore the patina of ages, and a few still emanated a sharpness, a residual killing intent that refused to fade, as if unwilling to perish.

These were not mere decorations.

They appeared authentic.

They presented as the remnants of fallen warriors.

From this vast collection, Max had selected the sword perched atop the highest visible peak. That particular sword had resonated deep within his soul, and through it, he had grasped the path of severance.

Now, confronted by this imposing boulder, the recollection of that scene took on an entirely different significance.

"If those swords were genuine relics..."

His breathing naturally deepened, becoming more measured.

"Then does each blade represent someone who once battled the Sword Saint and met their end?"

The implication sent a shiver down his spine.

It suggested the tomb was far more than a simple monument. It was a necropolis of defeated sword paths. Every buried blade could symbolize a once-renowned prodigy, a master swordsman, a celestial sword sovereign, or even some ancient beast that dared challenge the Sword Saint, only to be vanquished.

Their swords remained as silent testaments.

Their pride lay buried, immortalized in steel.

Their defeat became but another verse in the Sword Saint's unfolding legend.

Max balled his fist quietly.

Then, what of the sword he had chosen?

What about the Severing Sword Concept it held?

Could it have belonged to the final successor of a terrifying severing lineage, an individual who aimed to cleave the heavens and earth, fate and existence itself, yet still succumbed to the Sword Saint?

If this were the case, then the concept Max now practiced originated from a defeated adversary whose legacy persisted solely through that abandoned weapon.

Yet, another possibility surfaced.

One that was even more startling.

"Or..."

Max's gaze fixed intently upon the sword marks etched across the boulder's surface.

"What if the Severing Sword Concept originated from the Sword Saint himself?"

This notion sent a profound chill through him.

If the Sword Saint had, at one point, cultivated severance as a facet of his own conceptual mastery, then the sword Max discovered might not have belonged to a vanquished foe at all. It could have been one of the Sword Saint's own blades from a much earlier period.

A weapon once wielded, then discarded.

A concept once mastered, then outgrown.

A developmental stage shed as he ascended towards something grander.

If this hypothesis were true, then the concept Max had cherished as a significant breakthrough might merely be a fragment of the Sword Saint's distant past.

A solitary leaf adrift from an ancient, colossal tree.

Max's scalp prickled with the implications of this thought.

There was no way to ascertain the absolute truth at this moment.

Perhaps the tomb preserved the armaments of defeated rivals.

Perhaps it contained swords once held by the Sword Saint himself.

Perhaps it was a combination of both, a final resting place for challengers alongside the vestiges of the Sword Saint's own arduous journey.

Regardless of the definitive reality, one undeniable fact had emerged.

His own trajectory had become irrevocably linked with this enigmatic Sword Saint long before the present day.

The comprehension attained within the Tower of Truth, the Severing Sword Concept he now possessed, and the current circumstance drawing him before this boulder all seemed connected by an unseen thread.

Max let out a slow breath, centering his thoughts.

Whether this entanglement was destined or accidental held no further importance.

He had once brushed against the shadow of the Sword Saint within a tomb.

Now, he stood before another echo of that same legendary figure.

"I would strongly advise against becoming captivated by the sword marks on that boulder,"

The young man standing by Max's side spoke, his gaze still fixed ahead, his tone laced with the weariness of witnessing countless individuals succumb to obsession here.

"Unless you wish to end up like those ancient figures who have spent millennia upon millennia fixated on this stone."

He subtly indicated the individuals closest to the boulder.

Some among them appeared impossibly old, their robes tattered by the passage of time, yet their auras felt immense and formidable. Others seemed middle-aged, or even youthful in appearance, but the profound stillness in their eyes conveyed the weight of unfathomable years. They sat immobile, like statues carved from stone, each one lost in contemplation of the sword marks, as if the world beyond had ceased to exist.

"One day transforms into a year," the young man continued in a low voice. "One year stretches into ten thousand. Many arrived here in pursuit of ultimate understanding. Ultimately, that pursuit became their eternal confinement."

Max listened with rapt attention.

The cautionary words were clearly not without a solid basis.

The allure of the boulder was undeniably potent. Each inscription left by a sword stroke seemed to cradle profound enigma, every mark hinting at a higher truth just beyond grasp. It was simple to envision a swordsman becoming lost, gazing upon it for ages, convinced that the next moment would herald a breakthrough.

And then centuries upon centuries would slip by.

Max offered a placid nod.

"Hmm. I shall bear that in mind."

The young man regarded him with a final look, appearing appeased.

"Good. Curiosity has its place, but obsession has led to the downfall of more prodigies than any foe ever could."

With those words, he turned, melting back into the throng of itinerant cultivators.

Max remained rooted to his spot.

His gaze drifted back to the immense boulder, its surface adorned with innumerable sword marks. A subtle swirling motion characterized the wind's passage around it, carrying faint edges of sharpness discernible even from a distance.

His thoughts returned to his earlier contemplation.

Should his suspicions prove correct, and the ultimate inheritor of the Severing Sword Concept had indeed once confronted the Sword Saint and perished, then that legendary battle must have been unimaginably spectacular.

The Concept of the Severing Sword was no trifling matter.

Max understood this truth intimately.

It represented a cultivation path dedicated to achieving unparalleled cutting power. Its aim was to cleave through flesh, shatter mountains, sever Qi, dismantle formations, sever destiny, and perhaps even sever intangible principles themselves. It was a path of tyranny, directness, and terrifying purity.

Even in its current incomplete state, the concept had already bestowed upon him formidable offensive capabilities.

What, then, of the final, true exponent who had fully mastered this path?

Such an individual would undoubtedly have been a world-shattering swordsman.

Yet, even that peerless existence might have met their end.

Max's gaze grew more intense.

"If that individual truly challenged the Sword Saint and died..."

"Then, what manner of concept did the Sword Saint wield?"

Could it have been a concept superior to severance itself?

The question seemed deceptively simple, yet it sent tremors through Max's very being.