The night in Graystone Village carried wind weaving through the woods, sounding like an old woman’s muffled sobs.

  Inside the wooden cabin, Del sat with eyes tightly shut, hands cradling a mass of residue wrapped in purple mist—the last “gift” left after the ancient husk was destroyed.

  “Chip, strip away all logic models not belonging to this world. Cease practice of ‘Black Wind Sword’.” He issued the most rational command in his sea of consciousness.

  Task processing: Underlying logic cleanup in progress.

  Detected: Garay family primordial bloodline seed—“Bedrock Ash”—now in semi-activated state.

  Judgment: Impact from prior foreign energy (Black Wind Sword) has induced benign mutation in the bloodline.

  Current task: Utilize husk remnant energy to enhance circulation efficiency of ‘Bedrock Ash’.

  Del felt the original light, sharp black energy in his dantian rapidly fading, replaced by a heavy, viscous, high-temperature dark-red energy flowing through every vessel. This was the true “battle-qi” of this world—inefficient to an outrageous degree in the chip’s eyes, yet it excelled in being “legitimate”.

  He tossed the purple fragment looted from the corpse into the bubbling alchemical pot, then fully submerged his injured right arm.

  As for the purple fragment, the chip offered only one line:

  “Alert: Unknown energy detected. Absorption will produce positive stimulation to host. Proceed?”

  “Hiss—”

  Intense pain surged; Del couldn’t help but grimace.

  At that moment, the cabin door remained closed, yet a heavy pressure seeped through the wood. Then, an old man in a deep-gray wizard’s robe, holding a thorned staff, appeared silently inside.

  “Del, if you’re planning to cook yourself into a midnight snack for the ghouls, I suggest adding more rosemary.”

  Ian’s voice carried its usual acidity, but his eyes beneath the hood’s shadow fixed intently on the dark-red ripples in the pot.

  “Do old people in this world always start with sarcasm before speaking normally?” Del thought helplessly, but acknowledging the concern, he quickly replied:

  “Uncle Ian, I’m just trying a faster form of ‘rehabilitation training’.”

  Ian strode forward, tapped his staff lightly—a pale-blue ripple instantly covered the pot, forcibly suppressing the violent purple smoke. He reached out with his withered hand, gripping Del’s left shoulder; his brows immediately furrowed.

  “‘Bedrock Ash’? You forcibly awakened the Garay family’s ancestral battle-qi at a time like this?” Ian’s tone was full of suspicion. “This is wrong. While this battle-qi is heavy, it could never manifest with such… precision. The energy flow in your body carries a rigor almost like an alchemical formula.”

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  “It’s like this, Uncle—you can think of it as the bloodline mutating twice on me, and mutating again after that,” Del bullshitted calmly, his eyes carrying detached clarity. “While studying the sword logic on that parchment, I found that by fine-tuning breathing rhythm and muscle contraction angles, the power shifts to this form.”

  Ian stared at Del for a long time. As a truth-seeking wizard, he knew every genius had secrets. Since this power still fell within “battle-qi,” he didn’t press further.

  “This ‘Mutated Bedrock Strength’ burdens the body too heavily. Without high-grade potion neutralization, you won’t live past twenty-five.”

  Ian pulled a bottle glowing with amber light from his robes and poured it into the pot without explanation.

  “This is ‘Earth Vein Holy Water.’ Originally reserved for my lab stock—now wasted on you, you reckless brat. Listen: I’ll pressure Torry, claiming your ‘atypical bloodline awakening’ under extreme danger caused Kuhn’s accident. As my designated apprentice, the castle tribunal has no right to judge you directly.”

  He stood, walked to the door, then glanced back at Del.

  “Keep your combat techniques hidden from others once back at the castle. If you truly want to grow strong, learn properly from me how to channel elements. Battle-qi… it’s ultimately just barbarian art—no matter how strong, it means little.”

  “Understood, Uncle.” Del bowed slightly, seeing off the gruff yet soft-hearted elder.

  After Ian left, Del temporarily settled the matter requiring explanation.

  He sharply withdrew his right arm from the pot. The horrific wounds had vanished, replaced by skin like forged gray rock, with faint dark-red gleams flickering beneath.

  “Chip, report results.”

  Notification: ‘Earth Vein Holy Water’ fully integrated.

  Garay family battle-qi—“Bedrock Ash”—stabilized. Current rating: Peak Beginner (due to algorithmic optimization, combat effectiveness equivalent to Mid-tier).

  Del clenched his fist, feeling the heavy, ferocious power within—fully compliant with this world’s logic.

  “Black Wind Sword is too conspicuous—in this world, it would be targeted as ‘heresy’ or ‘demonic incarnation.’” Del walked to the window, gazing at the distant castle outline. “Even wizards of Ian’s level are starting to have logical gaps. From now on, I’m simply a ‘gifted, slightly mutated’ heir of Bedrock battle-qi.”

  Del spoke with finally sorted-out tone:

  “That’s more reasonable.”

  Then he turned to Garay on the sickbed—cheap father or not, still father.

  Garay had awakened at some point, staring dumbfounded at his son’s astonishing recovery.

  “Del… that just now… Ian really gave you such a treasure?”

  “That’s right—you can see he always thought I was too weak, afraid I’d die outside and embarrass him.” Del’s lips curved in a cold smile. “Father, since the poison is gone, you should get up and move. After all, Lord Torry will soon come for a ‘second visit.’ If he sees us living so comfortably, his expression will surely be interesting.”

  Garay shook his head helplessly. Though full of doubts, seeing his son’s thin yet confident face, he ultimately chose silence.

  The next evening.

  Graystone Village received uninvited guests. Torry arrived with twenty fully armed black-armored cavalry, directly sealing off the cabin.

  “Del, Garay—by castle order, final inquiry into the silver mine incident!” Torry’s voice echoed over the village, brimming with unquestionable dominance.

  This time, he came not only to silence them, but to verify the absurd rumor of the “second young master suddenly growing strong.”

  The wooden door slowly opened.

  Del wore no bandages. He had changed into sleek black hunting attire, right hand casually resting on the cross-sword hilt at his waist. With each step he took, the ground seemed to emit faint thuds—the natural heavy pressure of “Bedrock Ash.”

  “Lord Torry, bringing so many to visit the sick—your castle’s etiquette lessons seem lacking.” Del stood on the steps, looking straight at Torry on horseback.

  Torry’s pupils contracted sharply. He could feel Del had changed. The once-scholarly aura was replaced by mountain-like steadiness. More terrifying, the battle-qi fluctuations from Del pressed even this veteran knight.

  “You… you’ve awakened battle-qi?” Torry exclaimed in disbelief.

  “According to Uncle Ian, this should be called ‘bloodline sublimation.’” Del said calmly, pale-faced. His body temperature rose; the air around him began to warp faintly under dark-red battle-qi.

  Del slowly gripped the hilt. In that instant, he needed no “Black Wind Sword”—the sheer domineering pressure of Bedrock battle-qi alone made Torry’s warhorse whinny in terror, instinctively backing away.