Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100 Chapter 1628 Meaning behind the Sword Slashes!

A sense of separation washing over him, Max withdrew his focus from the throng of cultivators surrounding the colossal boulder.

It mattered not if they were Divine Kings, Holy Lords, or ancient cultivators who had remained in meditation for unfathomable ages; none held his attention now. Their physical forms occupied the same expanse, their auras still permeated the atmosphere, and their silent postures still radiated potent cultivation, yet Max perceived they were no longer on the same plane of existence as him.

The golden effulgence he witnessed was invisible to them. The strike that had impacted him was undetectable by their senses. The piercing pressure that had nearly fractured his perception was unfelt.

To their senses, he likely remained seated placidly before the boulder alongside the others. However, for Max, reality itself had fundamentally shifted.

This clandestine dimension now belonged solely to him.

Max's gaze slowly reverted to the immense boulder. The golden radiance, a product of the prior interaction, had subsided, and the myriad sword etchings adorning its surface had resumed their ancient, quiescent state.

They appeared weathered and still, as if time itself had carved them. Nevertheless, subsequent to that abrupt golden cleave, Max could no longer dismiss the boulder as mere stone. It emanated a profound, inexplicable vitality.

Its aliveness was not akin to a beast's, nor that of a sentient spirit. It was an existence defined by intent, by sword principles, by the formidable will embedded within each mark upon its face.

Max's eyes narrowed as a cascade of thoughts coursed through his mind.

"If that strike was not intended to annihilate me, then what purpose did it serve?" he queried under his breath.

The reverberation from the initial confrontation still echoed within his frame. His limbs felt heavy, his internal organs had been jostled, and a faint trace of blood still graced the corner of his mouth. Yet, apprehension was absent from Max's heart. In its stead, a more potent curiosity swelled.

He yearned to uncover the secrets behind those sword marks. He sought to understand the caliber of sword truth that could provoke even his Severing Sword Concept into trembling. More than that, he desired to comprehend the reason for the boulder's drastic and violent response.

Max drew a slow breath, compelling his mind to stillness.

He then extended his Concept of Severing Sword once more.

This time, his approach was deliberate. He refined the concept into a more attenuated and unadulterated filament of sword intent, rendering it more pointed, controlled, and precise than before. It traversed the air silently, like an unseen blade navigating a world imperceptible to ordinary sight.

Under Max's meticulous guidance, the thread of Severing Sword Concept made contact with one of the boulder's inscribed marks.

The response was instantaneous.

The entirety of the boulder blazed with golden light.

Each sword mark ignited simultaneously, transforming the ancient stone into a resplendent nexus of sword intent. An overwhelming pressure descended upon the hidden plane, so acute and magnificent that the very air surrounding Max appeared to be meticulously incised into countless invisible fragments.

The ground beneath his feet vibrated subtly, and the space around the boulder warped under the sheer weight of the sword aura.

Then, a particular sword mark near the epicenter flared with superior luminosity.

Erupting from within that mark, a golden sword slash manifested.

It surpassed the first in velocity.

No, describing it solely as fast was inadequate. Speed implied movement, whereas this slash seemed to disregard motion entirely. The instant it materialized, it had already traversed the distance between the boulder and Max. Its trajectory was direct, impeccable, and beyond the scope of conventional perception.

Max's pupils constricted sharply as he immediately invoked his Dimensional Sovereign Body.

His combat instincts flared to life.

Dragonheart materialized in his grip before his conscious thoughts could fully coalesce. Max executed a diagonal step, pivoted his waist, and elevated his sword to the most advantageous defensive angle achievable in that fleeting moment.

Steel met golden light in a resounding clash.

A violent shockwave radiated outward. Embers scattered through the atmosphere like fragments of shattered stars, and the force of the golden slash surged through Dragonheart, coursed into Max's arms, and impacted his body with the force of a collapsing mountain.

Max was propelled backward across a distance spanning dozens of meters.

His boots carved lengthy furrows into the earth as he fought to regain stability. Even after halting his momentum, blood rose in his throat and cascaded from his lips. Pain radiated through his chest, his meridians, and his limbs, yet Max remained oblivious to it all.

His eyes gleamed with unprecedented intensity.

He had successfully parried the second slash.

More significantly, on this occasion, he had perceived something more profound.

The assault was far from haphazard; it was a precisely channeled release of power, devoid of uncontrolled bursts. Its impact was distributed with chilling accuracy, each angle optimized to eliminate wasted movement. The trajectory traced the most direct and efficient path from sender to receiver. Every segment of the blade's arc had been honed to shed all superfluity.

Max slowly lowered Dragonheart, his mind sinking into profound contemplation.

"What is the true meaning behind these strikes?"

He pondered why the boulder only responded when his Severing Sword Concept made contact. Why did it reply with sword slashes rather than visions, cultivation manuals, or spoken guidance? Why did each strike feel less like aggression and more like an instructive display?

Max replayed the two encounters repeatedly in his mind. The initial slash had nearly overwhelmed him with its sheer suddenness. The second, however, was clearer, purer, and even more consummately executed. Neither strike carried any hostile intent.

There was no malice, no haughtiness, and no ambition to crush a junior.

There was only the sword.

As this realization dawned, Max's breathing steadily deepened.

Then, it struck him.

"This isn't merely a sword technique," Max whispered, his gaze fixed upon the luminous markings.

"These sword attacks are guiding me along the Dao of the Sword."

The boulder wasn't attacking him; it was imparting knowledge.

Each time he presented his Severing Sword Concept, the markings responded with a sword principle formulated to counter it. These golden slashes were not arbitrary assaults but rather lessons conveyed through direct confrontation.

Perhaps the Sword Saint had eschewed written scriptures because genuine sword concepts were untransmittable through mere words. Language could be misinterpreted, diagrams could be replicated without true understanding, and manuals could be memorized by dullards who never grasped their underlying essence.

But a sword slash could never deceive.

Only by confronting it head-on could one comprehend the latent truth within.

Max raised his head, his eyes meeting the ancient boulder. The physical pain had not yet subsided, but a fierce excitement began to ignite within his gaze. If his assessment was accurate, then every golden slash emanated by this boulder held more value than innumerable treasured sword manuals.

Each impact encapsulated a truth refined by an existence whose sword concept had ascended to unfathomable heights.

And he had only experienced two thus far.