Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Without hesitation, Max sat down and opened the jade slip containing the One Step Mile technique. His eyes scanned every inscription, every intricate diagram, every explanation of the footwork's profound mysteries.

The deeper he read, the more his expression shifted—first surprise at its depth, then doubt at its complexity, and finally, unrestrained excitement. The technique was far beyond ordinary martial footwork; it was as if the heavens themselves had crafted a method solely for those who sought to dominate all speed-based combat.

After finishing his initial reading, Max stood up, exhaled deeply, and turned his attention to Jake's corpse. With a simple motion of his hand, black flames erupted, consuming the body entirely.

In moments, nothing but ashes remained, which Max promptly devoured using his unique ability. However, to his slight disappointment, no level-up notification came. He sighed softly, shaking his head. "Looks like killing a level 7 Legend Rank isn't enough. I'll need something—or someone—far stronger if I want to push myself into Champion Rank."

His eyes then narrowed, gleaming with cold determination. 'Arnold.' The genius from Thunder Monarch Hall had to die. Arnold's future was limitless; his potential made him the type of person who, if left alive, could one day stab Max in the back.

"No loose ends," Max muttered. "I'll kill him now while I have the chance."

With that resolve, Max set off, swiftly returning to the area where Arnold had been seriously injured. However, when he arrived, he was greeted by nothing but chaos. Trees had been uprooted, the ground was cracked and torn apart, and faint traces of battle aura still lingered in the air—but Arnold was nowhere to be found.

Max's brows furrowed deeply. 'Did he leave to heal?' It seemed likely. Arnold's injuries had been severe, and even with the healing medicine Jake had given him, he wouldn't have recovered quickly. That should have kept him close by.

Determined not to give up, Max expanded his search radius. For one hour, then two, and finally three, he scoured every inch of terrain within a hundred miles.

Mountains, valleys, rivers, even deep caves—all were checked meticulously. Yet, despite his efforts and powerful soul perception, there was no trace of Arnold. It was as though the man had vanished entirely.

"Damn it!" Max growled, his fist tightening around the hilt of the Blue Dragon Sword. "Where the hell did he go?" He didn't believe Arnold had gone far; someone as injured as him shouldn't have been able to flee to such a distance. Still, there were no clues, and no lingering traces of his aura to follow.

Frustration gnawed at him, but eventually, Max had to accept reality. Today's chance was lost. He had already spent hours searching, and this was the seventh day since entering the valley.

Time was running short, and there were still treasures waiting to be found in this massive secret domain.

Finally, Max took one last glance at the empty, chaotic clearing, his eyes cold and sharp. "You got lucky this time, Arnold… but next time, you won't." With that promise etched into his mind, Max turned and left, disappearing into the distance to hunt for new opportunities and treasures.

---

Hidden beneath the mountain where Max had searched so relentlessly, a pale young man sat cross-legged in the depths of a narrow cave. His face was twisted in resentment, his teeth gritted tightly, and his eyes bloodshot with fury. Who else could it be but Arnold, the genius of the Thunder Monarch Hall?

The truth was, Arnold had been severely injured and hiding in the mountains since his encounter with Max earlier. When he felt Max's aura return, even colder and sharper than before, and saw that unmistakable murderous look in his eyes, he instantly understood what had happened—Senior Brother Jake was dead.

The realization sent a tremor down his spine, and his already pale face turned even paler.

In order to survive, Arnold had to act quickly. He remembered the treasure his grandfather had entrusted to him—a black cloak said to have extraordinary concealing abilities, a rare artifact capable of hiding one's presence so thoroughly that even a Mythical Rank expert would fail to sense them standing directly in front of them.

Without hesitation, Arnold dug a hole right on the spot, slipped into it, wrapped himself tightly with the cloak, and shut down all his five senses, merging with the earth itself. It was an extreme measure, but his life was worth far more than his pride at that moment.

When Max finally left the area, Arnold slowly emerged from his makeshift hideout. His entire body trembled at the memory of Max's murderous gaze, the kind of coldness that could freeze the soul itself. But soon, fear gave way to rage, and his pale face twisted into one of hatred and malice.

"Finally, he's gone." Arnold muttered to himself, his voice hoarse but brimming with venom. "I didn't expect he would actually kill Senior Brother Jake. Damn you, Max. I swear, I will make you die for this!"

His voice echoed faintly in the cave as his fists clenched tight enough for his knuckles to whiten. But then he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, his expression becoming cold and resolute. "I am Arnold, a genius acknowledged by the Thunder Monarch Hall. At the age of twenty-eight, I have already stepped into the sixth level of the Legend Rank. That so-called Max can never compare to me. I will become stronger than him. I will kill him with my own hands."

Without another word, Arnold took out storage pouches filled with hundreds of thousands of beast cores and began absorbing them one by one.

The swirling energy from the cores filled the cave, causing violent fluctuations of spiritual power to radiate outward. His aura, which had been suppressed while hiding, now surged violently.

This battle had been more than just a defeat for Arnold; it was the greatest humiliation of his life. A genius of the Thunder Monarch Hall, defeated by someone still stuck at the Master Rank? He couldn't, wouldn't, accept it. That hatred became the fuel for his cultivation, pushing him beyond his limits.

Whether it was his privileged background, his innate talent, or the sheer force of will born from hatred, his strength rose rapidly in that instant. The power within him boiled like a raging volcano until—