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

Ethan's eyes narrowed the moment he saw the man standing in the doorway. Without hesitation, he launched his skill straight at him.

The door had opened to reveal Liam Silverwood—the so-called Silverwood Steward.

Neither of them had expected to see the other.

Liam certainly hadn't expected a punch the moment the door creaked open.

Ethan hadn't meant to hit him either. His skill had been aimed at the steel panel behind the door, and he'd packed a ton of force into it. Unfortunately, Liam had picked the worst possible time to appear.

Still, this wasn't just any person—Liam Silverwood also happened to be a combat instructor. And he wasn't slow to react.

Startled but sharp, Liam immediately unleashed the Silverwood family's signature technique: Veilhand.

Boom!

Their hands collided with a deafening crash, Ethan stumbled back three steps. Liam did the same.

The strike was perfectly matched.

Ethan blinked, genuinely surprised. Liam had just taken a direct hit from Bear Form's Heavy Strike and barely flinched. That wasn't something most people could do.

Across from him, Liam's gaze was equally stunned. He'd reacted in a rush, but he still used seventy percent of his strength. By any measure, Ethan was part of the younger generation. Yet no one in the entire Silverwood junior ranks had ever managed to withstand even half of his power. Not even Lyla—brilliant and gifted as she was—had shown any interest in combat.

But what truly shocked Liam wasn't just the blow exchange.

It was what happened next.

Before Liam could even steady himself, Ethan had already shed the weight of his momentum and charged again—this time, even fiercer.

Liam's eyes sharpened, he quickly turned on his heel and bolted.

"Goldie, don't run! I've got bones!"

Ethan's shout echoed through the hallway as he took off after him. He whipped out a lamb chop bone from his storage—a little souvenir he'd swiped earlier from the Silverwood kitchen and tucked away in his Mindscape.

The name "Goldie" rang in Liam's ears like a slap. It triggered a flash of the mocking jeers from the Whitmore siblings back in the council hall.

Fury surged through him as his stride wobbled. He nearly tripped.

Whoosh.

Right at that moment, a bone flew past his head, Liam's expression darkened like a storm cloud.

Ethan, still in hot pursuit, was impressed despite himself. Liam was fast—really fast. Even with Panther Form active, Ethan could barely keep pace. He'd never met anyone on foot who could match him like this.

Liam, dashing ahead, was even more rattled than Ethan.

'What the hell is this kid made of?'

Originally, his plan had been simple: create some distance, then use Veilhand's ranged techniques to chip away at Ethan's stamina. But now? Now he was stuck in a flat-out sprint for his life.

Stopping to fight meant losing the first exchange. And maybe the second. And possibly his face.

Luckily, he knew this underground passage inside and out.

A few twists later, an isolation barrier came into view.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small remote, and hit the close button. The door ahead was already open, slowly sliding toward shut.

Liam darted through just in time.

Ethan saw it all happening—saw the trap—but he was a second too late. The isolation door slammed shut right in front of him.

He skidded to a stop and lashed out with a furious kick.

Boom!

The steel door dented, but it didn't budge.

Panther Form was fast, but it didn't have the raw power of Bear Form. He could switch, but it'd take too long—and Liam was already gone.

Just as he prepared to try again, a voice called out from behind him.

"Ethan…"

It was Donovan Silverwood.

Ethan turned as the old man approached, then quickly explained what had just happened.

Donovan glanced at the door and patted Ethan on the shoulder, then ushered him back to the medical room.

"No rush," he said. "That little rascal won't get far. We'll catch him soon enough."

The entrance to the Hidden Territory had already been opened, but it would be closing again shortly to conserve energy. They had to move fast.

Ethan looked around, but Luna Silverwood was nowhere in sight. He had no idea how Donovan had dealt with her.

When he reunited with Lyla, she was waiting for him at the Hidden Territory's exit.

She was trying to escort her father out, but a crowd of Silverwood elders—who'd vanished earlier—had suddenly reappeared.

Ethan frowned.

'So now you show yourselves, and you're blocking Lyla?'

They were firmly against letting the family head leave.

None of them had sided with Lachlan Silverwood—they weren't traitors. But they were a bunch of crusty traditionalists, clinging to their authority like dusty relics.

Some of them were even older than Donovan.

Just then, Donovan himself arrived on the scene. He stopped, took one look at the group, and muttered under his breath, "These old geezers…"

Then he turned to Ethan with a sly grin.

"I'm out. You handle this one."

Ethan nodded. He knew what that meant.

The old-timers were used to throwing their weight around. If Donovan stepped in, they'd probably just talk his ears off.

Ethan strode forward toward Lyla.

Her father's gurney was being dragged by a few younger members of the Silverwood family, clearly following the old geezers' orders.

Lyla caught sight of him and opened her mouth to speak, but then Ethan winked at her. She caught on instantly, pretending not to know him. Her angry expression melted into a faint, knowing smile.

She didn't need to say a word. With him here, everything would be handled.

"What the hell! Didn't you see your Grandfather Markham here? Still blocking the damn way?"

Ethan marched forward, voice booming with false outrage.

An elder, startled by the shout, turned around, puzzled.

Grandfather Markham? That name hadn't been uttered in decades—if ever. The old man blinked, unable to make sense of what he was hearing.

Ethan didn't give him a chance.

"You deaf or just stupid? What are you looking at your Grandfather Markham for? Want a beating?"

The elder's mouth flapped open, but no sound came out.

"Did you not hear me?" Ethan continued. "I said answer your damn Grandfather Markham!"

Then, without warning—

Smack!

A loud slap rang out.

The old man spun a full 360 degrees before collapsing into a crumpled heap on the ground. His legs bent in directions they probably shouldn't.

Ethan had held back—he wasn't trying to kill anyone. But even a light slap from him was no joke.

The entire crowd gasped.

Voices erupted.

"You bastard! Markham, how dare you hit our Nineteenth Elder?"

"Markham, you've gone too far!"

"Grab him! He's Markham from the Whitmore family!"

Ethan froze.

'Wait. What? Markham?'

He turned his head, confused.

Then he spotted the source of the chaos—Lars, grinning in the shadows, was the one shouting.