Eternal Swordmaster Chapter 974 - 969 Storm I

"Let’s begin, thank you for your service." Diliya’s hands shook uncontrollably.

As an Imperial Concubine, she still couldn’t guarantee her child’s future or safety.

That helpless weakness pierced her heart like a dagger’s cruel slice.

Lin Xin rested calmly in the rectangular frame, neither crying nor fussing, simply observing the priest slice his arm lightly with a dark purple Crystal Knife.

Bright red blood trickled out, falling into the frame beneath.

Sss....

Pale yellow symbols surfaced from the frame’s base, shining with a soft glow.

These symbols indicated aptitude.

Ten symbols filled the frame entirely, though regular folks ignited at most three; the mighty ones sparked five.

The elite could ignite six or seven.

Lin Xin pondered briefly and chose not to boost his aptitude deliberately.

For him, this body’s innate aptitude sufficed—average, not too strong or too feeble.

Boosting it might earn a finer rating, yet it wouldn’t aid his exploration of this fresh world.

He remained uncertain about the mightiest powers here. Rushing to amplify his aptitude would merely draw unwanted eyes and restrictions, tying him down.

Besides, the Mystical Realm stood ready to unlock.

He transcended being just a lone person now.

One symbol, two symbols, three symbols.

Conventional aptitude glowed steadily.

Then came the superior tier, drawing intense gazes from the Priest and celebrant alike.

Imperial Concubine Diliya clenched her lip, yearning for brilliance yet dreading excessive shine that might invite threats from higher up.

Such clashing emotions tore at her soul fiercely.

Sss...

The fourth symbol ignited.

Then it halted entirely.

The celebrant paused mid-motion.

Aptitude barely surpassing the ordinary; such mediocrity offered no threat to the fourth Prince.

No dirty tricks required. With this talent, endless effort would only serve as backdrop for the fourth Prince.

Diliya let out a quiet breath of relief; this proved the ideal result.

Lin Xin eyed the Priest before gently shutting his eyes.

"Congratulations, Imperial Concubine Diliya. The twentieth prince’s aptitude isn’t exceptional, yet it’s decent enough."

The Priest hesitated to harm a newborn infant, welcoming this outcome heartily.

"Thank you... thank you."

Diliya released a heavy sigh, stepped ahead, cradled Lin Xin tenderly, and rose to her feet.

The little wound on the child’s arm was already wiped clean and wrapped.

The full aptitude ceremony concluded without incident.

.........

Three years flew by in an instant.

Over these years, Lin Xin steadily raised his attributes, pushing each to the brink of his body’s growth limits.

Averaging twenty points per trait.

This marked the body’s peak natural ceiling; exceeding it would spark bloodline awakening, delving into ancient genes—what folks called the evolution template.

The present genetic structure couldn’t sustain even stronger stats.

In the tech-heavy Storm Empire, basic human qualities far outstripped those in his previous life’s Aojia Empire.

Compared to peers, Lin Xin’s stats dwarfed other kids by five or six times.

The Storm Tribe ruled the Storm Empire.

They possessed unique bloodline gifts, excelling in affinity with Wind System powers.

Hence, countless common children trained in wind system Cultivation Techniques, Combat Techniques, or Wind Attribute spiritual power methods from early childhood.

Though a tech-centric empire lagging behind Hert in personal might, the Storm Empire’s Imperial Clan status granted Lin Xin far more choices than typical folk.

Derin Palace, Fifth District.

Lin Xin sat silently at the stone table, honing his writing scrolls—much like this world’s calligraphy.

The Storm Empire’s writing mimicked golden runes, akin to Earth’s Germanic script.

Today was precisely his third birthday, time to select a Foundation Establishment Technique.

In the Storm Empire, families of means let kids pick their paths young.

Literature or martial arts.

Literature meant scholarly studies and spiritual power drills, culminating in elite empire roles across industries.

Martial meant personal Cultivation in Martial Arts, military service, or sect entry.

At this tech era’s stage, countless Martial Arts Sects blended tech, forging horrifying innovations.

Famous martial experts often wielded one or two tech implants or gear aids.

Some styles even borrowed tech civ, birthing new-age Martial Arts.

Take the Atomic Shattering Sword.

Lin Xin diligently practiced his calligraphy; even at midday, none bothered him.

Lacking standout talent or backing.

Beyond Prince basics, he blended into the crowd of over thirty Princes.

Shortly after his birth, his frugal father wed five more Imperial Concubines, birthing over ten more Princes and Princesses in two years.

The savage competition turned Prince and Princess rivalries bloody, with heavy losses.

An Imperial Concubine’s fate hinged on her offspring. That’s how a child’s prowess elevates the mother.

"Hong’er, today’s the day to pick your Basic Techniques."

Imperial Concubine Diliya entered the yard leisurely, flanked by two attendants.

Spotting her son diligently at calligraphy, a warm smile of relief lit her face.

Xu Hong had been worry-free since birth.

No tantrums or cries, eating and sleeping on schedule—pure comfort.

Nothing like his ambitious elder sister, Xu Yejun.

"Your sister’s on sect missions and can’t return yet, so she won’t join you.

I’ll escort you to the Imperial Martial Arts Pavilion myself," Diliya murmured gently. "If a certain Cultivation Technique catches your eye, I can arrange it ahead."

Though a minor nation’s princess, Diliya couldn’t rival top clans, but rarer, superior Cultivation Techniques lay within reach, if not the pinnacle imperial ones.

"I’ll select it myself," Lin Xin answered calmly.

At three, fluent speech was commonplace here.

He yearned to witness this world’s Martial Arts firsthand.

"We’ve time yet, but arriving early means shorter lines, Hong’er. Change clothes and let’s go."

Diliya’s purpose was escorting Lin Xin to the Martial Arts Pavilion.

"Alright."

Lin Xin headed indoors, donned fresh attire with maid assistance, then boarded the floating car with Diliya.

The Martial Arts Pavilion lay tens of kilometers from their Derin Palace home.

Imperial Concubines, as Great Storm Emperor’s favored ladies, dwelled close to the Storm Imperial Palace.

The Martial Arts Pavilion nestled inside the Imperial Palace.

There, an Imperial Concubine ranked like a minor official—less than power-holders, more a ceremonial post.

The Royal Martial Arts Pavilion rose as a twisting purple-black tower, scores of floors tall, vanishing into clouds.

Silver tech-armored sentries patrolled its base, each at Warrior Level in martial prowess.

Storm Empire’s official martial tiers split into Warrior, Martial Master, Martial Artist, Master.

Real ranks hinged on combat feats; town or county’s peak elites became Warriors.

City elites earned Martial Master.

District-spanning top ranks across cities marked true Martial Artists.

Thus, martial arts measured sway here.

Masters ruled as planetary apex powers.

Rumors spoke of Grandmasters beyond.

Grandmasters were rarities in martial circles.

Their bodies wielded immense might, crossing voids, shattering warships—like heavy weapons.

Not stellar arms level, but as assault elites, their tactical ruin was nightmarish.

Storm Empire boasted few Grandmasters, seldom stirring.

The floating car halted before the Royal Martial Arts Pavilion.

Diliya stayed aboard, sending her loyal Martial Artist, Geld, to register Lin Xin in line.

No lines plagued the Royal Martial Arts Pavilion; few Princes or Princesses chased martial paths.

Storm Empire prized spiritual cultivation for command over fleet tactics more than solo might.

Thus, the entrance stayed quiet, sparse figures passing.

Geld, a lanky dark-skinned man, was Diliya’s Warrior hire post-Lin Xin’s martial choice.

With Lin Xin, he approached the Pavilion, flashed the ID token to guards, logged date, aptitude, and options.

Princely status granted perks.

Freedom to pick any high, mid, or low martial manuals across the Royal Martial Arts Pavilion.

Imperial peak Techniques absent, yet ample to grasp the local framework.

Post-registry, a clone bio-maid led him inside.

Deep within, the First Layer hosted over ten royally dressed youths.

Ages varied from tiny to taller.

Mostly Princes and Princesses.

The Great Storm Emperor sired hordes yearly.

Myriad offspring emerged; many Concubines fell in strife, but survivors retained status.

This swelled royal progeny numbers.

Roughly, over three centuries ruling, the Emperor spawned near a thousand heirs.

Bursts of five or six some years, singles over others—erratic pace.

At three, male or not, his delicate charm bewitched, gender ambiguous.

Purple robe like Earth’s kilt suited both sexes.

Gender blurred further.

Entering drew stares from book-reading Princes and Princesses on the First Layer, captivated by his looks alone.