Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!

Ryan stood at the doorway, a small bell clutched tightly in his hand. It jingled erratically, a wild cascade of sound that shattered the silence.

Boom—

Just as he finished speaking, the grand doors creaked open. Ethan peered inside and was met with a wall of darkness.

Then—

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

Three figures flew out. The first two, clearly hurled, hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop like discarded sacks.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. It was Lachlan Silverwood and Sylvan Wynn. Crumpled. Motionless.

Behind them, stepping through the threshold, came a man cloaked in dark energy. The same figure Ethan had encountered beneath the mountain, beforeenteringthe hidden territory.

'Well,' Ethan thought as his lips tightened. 'No need to head in there anymore.'

The gathered people instantly tensed.

The man's gaze swept over the crowd.

"Hm? Whitmore Family, Hargrove, Blackwell, Wynn, Quinn... everyone's here?" He smiled thinly. "Good. Saves me the trouble of hunting you all down."

His eyes landed on one particular elder.

"Oh... this old fossil's not dead yet. Just useless now, huh?"

He locked eyes with Grandmaster Quinn, voice dripping with disdain.

Matriarch Whitmore stepped forward, placing herself between him and the rest. "Who... who exactly are you?"

The man ignored her. Instead, he spoke with quiet finality:

"Whitmore and Wynn families, leave. Now."

"Hargrove. Blackwell. Quinn... today, you die."

The words fell like a sentence already passed, not a threat. A declaration.

Brows knitted across the assembly. Why spare two families and doom the others?

Gregory Hargrove, nursing a missing arm, stepped forward.

"We've never had any conflict with you. We only met today, And yet you tore off my arm."

His voice was calm, cold. The kind of cold that came when there was nothing left to lose.

"At the very least... I deserve to know why."

The man chuckled, low and bitter.

"A fair question. One I myself asked, twenty years ago, to the Six Great Houses." His dark energy began to pulse, rising like a coming storm.

"And do you know what they said?"

He paused.

His voice dropped to a glacial whisper that echoed through the room.

"They said... Because your surname is Caelum."

Ethan blinked.

Caelum? Quite a coincidence as that was also his surname, but... what did that have to do with anything?

He wasn't the only one confused. The others exchanged puzzled glances.

But Matriarch Whitmore's cane rattled as her hand began to tremble. Her entire frame quivered as she stepped forward.

"Who is Overlord Caelum to you?" she asked softly.

The man stiffened.

Seconds passed.

When he finally spoke, his voice had lost a layer of its frost—but it remained distant.

"Matriarch Whitmore... Why ask what you already know?"

She swayed. Her grip on her cane slipped. Melinda rushed to her side, catching her before she could fall.

Melinda stared at the man, eyes wide. "You're... Young Starfall?"

The energy around him flickered. For a breath, it was as if he'd forgotten how to breathe.

Then he exhaled.

"Ah... Melinda. You're married now, aren't you? Is your husband dead yet?"

Ethan couldn't help it. He snorted, then burst out laughing.

'Seriously? Who opens a conversation with that? You trying to move in or something?'

He glanced at Melinda—she looked twenty-seven, twenty-eight at most. How old was she really?

Melinda's jaw dropped. Then she marched forward, cheeks flushed with fury, reaching out to tug his ear.

Starfall dodged in a dark blur.

"Melinda," he warned gently, "you really shouldn't touch this demonic energy."

"Melinda, enough!" Matriarch Whitmore's voice rang out.

Everyone turned in shock.

The Matriarch released her cane, dropped into a slow, respectful bow, and said—

"This old woman pays her respects to the Young Master."

A hush fell.

He... he's...

None of the current family heads had met the former ruler. But all knew the lore: That once, the Noble Eight bowed to a single master. The master who sat in the central seat of every council hall, whose presence had vanished forty years ago.

Now, he stood before them again.

Matriarch Whitmore bowed. Starfall sidestepped. She turned with him, refusing to rise.

Melinda quite shook, prepared to bow as well—until Starfall cut her off coldly.

"Matriarch Whitmore. Melinda. If you two insist on bowing again... I'll slaughter everyone from the Blackwell, Quinn, and Hargrove families."

What the hell?!

That unspoken thought surged through the ranks of the three families. But no one dared say a word. The pressure around him was suffocating.

Ethan, like the others, became a silent spectator.

Yet he watched closely. This Caelum fellow... he was something else.

In the last two days, Ethan had watched the family heads strut around like peacocks, full of pride. They hadn't given him the time of day—not for his own merit. Only thanks to the Whitmore Family's protection.

But this man? He stood before all of them, unafraid, casually speaking of execution... and no one dared breathe wrong.

Matriarch Whitmore slowly rose.

"The Young Master's word is law," she announced. "Why haven't you thanked him yet?"

"Thank you, Young Master!" they all chorused instantly.

No hesitation. No dignity. Ethan stared, speechless.

This scene struck him as insane. One second they were like proud aristocrats, the next they were groveling like beggars.

Even Matriarch Whitmore... now so humble and grounded.

Starfall's brows rose in faint surprise. He hadn't expected her to manipulate the moment like that.

But he shook it off.

"Matriarch Whitmore," he said, "you know very well what lies between them and me."

"Back then, their Great Houses drained my life force. Sealed my soul. Forced me to reveal the method to break the barrier..."

His voice cracked.

"They also caused the death of—"

He paused. Ethan could feel the rage simmering beneath the surface. Ready to erupt.

"How do you expect me to forgive that?" He turned, eyes sweeping the room.

The family heads looked at each other, utterly lost. They knew none of this.

"You demon!" Iris Hargrove snapped. "Spouting lies—how could the Noble Eight—"

Smack!

The slap echoed. Ethan didn't need to look to know who it was. Gregory Hargrove's hand still hung in the air.

Iris spun a full 720 degrees and crashed to the floor.

Her cheek ballooned into a swollen mass. She was out cold.

Everyone ignored it. Like it hadn't happened. Matriarch Whitmore's face burned with shame.

"Young Master," she said quietly, "those who hurt you are long gone. This generation... they're innocent."

But Starfall didn't calm down, Instead, the air grew heavier. Darker.

"Innocent?" he hissed.

"If they're innocent... wasn't June innocent too? And the child in her womb?" He took a step forward. The dark energy howled around him like firestorms unleashed.

Hiss. Hiss. Hiss.

The very air trembled. A massive boulder beside him sizzled. The moment the dark energy brushed against it, half of it melted away into vapor.