My attributes are increasing infinitely Chapter 454: Peak Spirit Sovereign

Black Reed Town sat three thousand miles away from the imperial capital, squeezed amid modest hills and a twisting gray river that mirrored the heavens like faded iron. Official maps seldom noted its existence. Caravans ventured there solely when hunting for particular goods. Everyday wanderers found no cause to traverse it.

Still, in circles of cultivators and traders handling exotic items, the settlement held a subdued fame.

Its wine stood unrivaled.

Ethan reached the place as evening fell.

He journeyed without flags or guards. His garments were plain. He kept his presence muted to match a mere mortal's. The alleys were tight and covered in rough cobblestones. Lights from lanterns started flickering under timbered roofs, spilling soft glows into the floating twilight haze.

He strolled at an easy pace.

The details from the system came in brief form.

[Spirit Sovereign, peak realm.

Age unknown.

No sect affiliation.

No public disciples.

Resides in Black Reed Town under civilian identity.]

The false persona matched that simplicity.

Wine seller.

Ethan rounded a bend and spotted the establishment.

It was modest in size. A hand-carved wooden plaque displayed just two symbols. Nothing fancy or ornate. No formations detectable from the street. The entrance stood ajar, letting out chuckles alongside aromas of brewed grains and a richer undertone suggesting spirit plants.

Patrons filled the tables within.

Traders in weathered mantles shared spots with roving cultivators. Two guards in armor sipped quietly by the rear partition. Shelves brimmed with earthen pots from base to top. The elderly figure at the bar shifted with sluggish care, like each motion demanded focused intent.

His locks were fully silver. His frame curved a bit. Wrinkles etched his features deeply, and his complexion held the ashen tone of one whose life force had long faded.

He appeared fragile enough for a brisk breeze to dissolve him to powder.

Ethan stepped in and picked a spot by the wall.

Nobody gave him extra notice.

A youthful attendant delivered a goblet of deep golden liquor. Ethan raised it and sniffed. The aroma began mild, then bloomed in stages. Fruit's tang mingled with old timber's bite, and under it lingered a soft spiritual hum that grazed his mind like a murmur.

He sipped.

Heat flowed along his gullet and through his form. The brew held a polished strand of spirit power, pure and measured. It stayed gentle. It restored.

Curious.

He took another swallow.

Moments slipped by unnoticed.

As darkness thickened, the place buzzed more. Tales unfolded. Silver changed hands. Goblets tapped surfaces in agreement. Ethan stayed quiet, imbibing consistently. One vessel ran dry. Then a second. The attendant eyed him repeatedly, unsure if to step in, yet the elder at the bar lifted a subtle palm to wave off any action.

The crowd slowly dispersed.

They departed one after another, drawing wraps close against the hill cold. In time, only Ethan lingered.

Lanterns danced their flames.

The elder drew near his table with careful strides.

"Young man," he spoke in a frail yet distinct tone, "it's time for me to shut the place down."

Ethan hoisted his goblet and finished the final bit. He kept his gaze lowered.

The elder paused.

Ethan placed the goblet down with care. "Bring more."

The elder examined him. "The shop is closed."

Ethan reclined in his seat. His look stayed even, nearly indifferent. "Old man, shut the fuck up. Do you know who I am? Serve me more wine, you old fossil."

The phrasing was rough and intentional. His goal was to rile the fellow.

A shift rippled through the shop's atmosphere.

The elder's features showed no fury. They didn't flush. Rather, they chilled. Creases near his eyes tightened, and a keen edge flickered in his stare's depths.

Nearby, the lantern fires quivered as if stirred by an invisible draft.

"Young people," the elder murmured, "frequently confuse rashness with bravery."

Ethan chuckled lightly. "And old folks often confuse their years with power."

He propped an arm on the surface. "I paid. I drink. That's how trade goes."

The elder's mouth formed a narrow seam. He extended a hand, aiming to gather the vacant pots from the table.

Ethan covered them with his palm.

The gesture seemed offhand, yet it stopped the elder's move outright.

"I said bring more."

For a split second, a vast force awakened under the elder's weak shell.

Then it faded.

He drew himself up a touch. "Young man, go now while you still can. I won't say it again."

Yet Ethan stayed rooted.

Instead, he lifted his arm and pointed one digit in a deliberate, clear sign.

"How dare you try to intimidate me, you old dog?"

The slur lingered like drawn steel.

The elder's gaze turned icy at last.

A wave of force emanated from him, faint initially. Pots on racks shook. Surfaces quaked. Bits of grit dropped from the beams.

It was just a sliver of his presence. A wisp. Plenty to choke a typical spirit emperor in moments.

The settlement beyond fell eerily still.

But Ethan kept his seat.

The force rolled over him and scattered like fog on a peak.

He offered no barrier. He showed no fight. He simply withstood it unchanged.

Then he bent ahead.

"Is that it?" he queried gently. "You call that intimidation?"

The elder's forehead creased.

He amplified the force a notch.

The atmosphere thickened. Planks underfoot creaked. Lantern glows snuffed out sequentially until just lunar beams seeped from the entry.

Beyond, the waterway churned wildly for one pulse before settling.

Ethan lifted his central digit anew.

"Try harder."

He was goading him.

Land the initial blow.

That sufficed.

The system's active routine would capture the foe's full battle setup once open aggression locked in. Come morning after a day, Ethan would gain a copied blueprint of that might.

A whole stage in mere hours.

That defined his path this round.

The elder's look drifted far.

"You are no commoner," he stated evenly.

Ethan grinned subtly. "And you are no wine seller."

The elder's spine unbent gradually.

The mask of weakness started to fracture.

The hunched stance righted. Shakes in his grip ceased. His breaths grew fuller, and spirit essence around stirred as if called by a wordless order.

The timber barriers of the shop melted into a vast starry field.

No tavern enclosed them anymore.

They occupied a hushed field under a vault brimming with wandering star clusters. The settlement had faded. The hills were absent.

It formed a domain.

The Spirit Sovereign’s domain.

"You court death," the elder declared, his tone no longer weak. It boomed with overlapping rings, like layered worlds thrummed in every word.

Ethan stood leisurely from his vanished seat.

He brushed his cuffs clean.

"You unleashed your aura first," he answered steadily. "I am just guarding my honor."

The elder eyed him at length.

Stars overhead intensified.

A massive spectral form materialized behind the elder, immense and sheer, its gaze shut in endless contemplation. It exuded the dominance of a top-tier Spirit Sovereign, a breath from transcendence.

The earth under Ethan's soles cracked.

Weight crashed down like a crumbling firmament.

This went beyond caution.

It tested resolve.

Ethan sensed his frame tense. His innards quivered. The domain aimed to grind him to yield.

Perfect.

He craved true enmity.

He let a slim streak of crimson trail from his lip's edge, feigning the force's budding toll.

The elder observed keenly.

"Depart," he urged. "I will overlook your rudeness."

Ethan chuckled softly, smearing the red with his digit.

"Old man," he remarked, "if this marks your utmost power, then your brew outshines you by far."

The specter at the elder's back unsealed its eyes.

The firmament broke.

A lance of focused spirit intent gathered over Ethan's crown and dove earthward.

In that flash, the system panel ignited in his mind.

[Hostility confirmed.

Target power structure locked.]

Ethan's mouth hooked up.

In the final instant, he shifted aside and lifted his palm.

He launched no crushing retort. He hid the Third Protocol.

He only diverted.

The lance burst on the field, gouging a rift to the edge of sight.

Debris and celestial gleam clouded the space.

The elder's face altered truly.

No haughtiness remained.

Just wariness.

"You wanted me to strike first?" he uttered deliberately.

Ethan offered no denial.