Half a month had passed since that day.
Whether out of fear of the Miles family or for some other reason, the Vances had lain low since Vance Crest's battle with Rowan Miles. There had been no further harassment of the Fortune Inn, nor any hunts for Rowan.
That suited Rowan just fine. His strength was still modest; clashing with the Vances would draw no aid from the Miles family—and they possessed an Innate expert.
Rowan was strong, but not yet Innate-ready.
During this time, he rarely left the Stables Yard except for occasional visits to the Fortune Inn. Most of his days were spent in secluded training.
In the Star Codex's world, where time flowed twice as fast, he had trained for a full month—two months total since beginning cultivation.
The clash with Vance Crest had left a deep impression on him. Guided by the Codex, he had since focused entirely on body cultivation.
Inside the Star Codex's realm, a lithe figure, black as a dragon, wove through fierce martial forms. Dragons roared, tigers howled; power surged as he shifted mid-air, an aura radiating so intensely it seemed to suppress heaven and earth.
Stopping, Rowan exhaled a foul breath, a smile spreading across his face.
"**Dragon Elephant Prajna Merit**, **Tiger Roar Sovereign Fist**, **Flying Cloud Four Steps**—as my strength grows, so does their might. Compared to the fight with Vance Crest, they're ten times stronger!"
A month in, he had reached the **eighth level of the Acquired Realm**. At the sixth, he had wielded the power of eighty dragons.
Now, his dragon force surpassed that of an ordinary ninth-level Acquired cultivator.
"Just Acquired eighth? Pathetic glee," the Codex sneered as it appeared unbidden.
Rowan rolled his eyes, ignoring the jab. The Codex seemed to thrive on deflating him.
"Spare me the immortal-god talk. This is the secular world—I'm doing well enough," Rowan muttered.
"Nearsighted fool!" the Codex snapped, glaring with contempt. "The **Chaotic Heavenly Body**, in a world rich with spiritual energy, could reach Acquired peak in half a year without effort. **Innate** would follow naturally."
Rowan jumped to his feet, incredulous. "You're serious?"
"Why lie? Boy, Acquired and Innate are mere trifles—entry-level dregs. Only **Foundation Establishment** counts as the true beginning of cultivation."
Rowan fell silent.
"Not to crush you," the Codex continued coldly, "but if you can't reach Foundation Establishment in half a year, you're wasting your gift. Might as well bash your head in."
Half a year—to reach Foundation Establishment!
That stage was the true threshold of the mystic realms; beyond it, one was a **cultivator**, no longer a mere warrior.
Breaking through from Acquired ninth peak to Foundation Establishment meant shattering the mortal barrier.
"My last master went from mortal to Foundation Establishment in three months," the Codex added lightly—and vanished.
Rowan sat in stunned silence.
Crushed.
He had spent two months and hadn't even reached Innate, while the Codex's previous master had achieved Foundation Establishment in three.
A blatant blow.
"That freak did it in three months from nothing? If he could, so can I! Well… maybe not exactly—but I won't lag far behind!"
After a long pause, determination gleamed in Rowan's eyes.
Time flowed like sand. Soon, only half a month remained until Rowan's three-month duel with **Liam Miles**.
He spent most days within the Star Codex, rarely stirring from the Miles compound or visiting the Fortune Inn.
The earlier excitement had faded—perhaps due to his seclusion. Rowan was nearly forgotten.
That day, he finally left the Stables Yard, heading toward the Fortune Inn.
**Whoosh!**
A premonition struck. Rowan looked skyward.
A streak of light hurtled toward Brightvale like a meteor, its speed horrifying.
"A shooting star? Such pressure!"
Rowan's eyes narrowed at the approaching light. Then, a terrifying aura blanketed the city—heart-stopping, suffocating.
"This is…"
Rowan's face paled. Beyond the aura, the "meteor" veered toward the Miles compound.
Then—
The pressure vanished. The light halted above the Miles gates.
"It's a person!"
Rowan's eyes widened. A youth stood on a glowing sword—white-robed, otherworldly, radiating an immortal air.
**Whoosh!**
The youth descended above the Miles estate, then vanished.
"An immortal cultivator! Sword flight!"
Rowan's eyes sparkled. He was no fool—only immortals could fly on swords.
"Such power…"
He was awed. The youth's aura was unfathomable.
At his current level, Rowan felt that a single finger from that person could end his life.
**Sword flight. Overwhelming strength. This… is the life I seek!**
"Rumor says the family has ties to the mystic realm—it seems true."
Calming his shock, Rowan continued toward the Fortune Inn.
**Boom!**
Suddenly, a terrifying aura erupted behind him, shattering the air.
A hand clawed through the void, aiming for his head.
Rowan's eyes turned cold with killing intent. He countered with a fist.
**Boom!**
A cataclysmic impact. Rowan stood firm—his attacker was sent staggering back.
"Impossible! One month, and you're this strong?" Vance Crest gasped. His ambush had failed; Rowan's casual counter had sent him flying.
Rowan's eyes flashed with lethal coldness as he stepped forward. "You ambushed me?"
Vance Crest glared, his aura surging—ninety-one dragons' force rising above his head.
"Ninety-one dragons—you've improved," Rowan noted, slightly impressed.
"Die!" Vance Crest roared, stomping the street into rubble as he launched himself like a hawk.
"One month ago, you weren't my match—now, even less so," Rowan sneered, unmoving. He stepped forward and punched.
**Bang!**
Vance Crest flew back like chaff, blood spraying from his mouth.
Watching him tumble, Rowan sighed inwardly.
"This is the gift of power. Before absolute strength, all enemies crumble."
One month ago, their battle had lasted half a day and dozens of exchanges—ending in a draw. Today, a single punch decided it.
"You're no match," Rowan said flatly, turning away.
Vance Crest's expression twisted. Rowan's growth defied comprehension.
"Die!"
Snarling, Vance Crest leapt again, blade in hand, slashing mid-air toward Rowan's back.
**Whoosh!**
The blade light stretched into a long arc, tearing through the air with heaven-shattering might.
"You seek death!"
Rowan vanished with **Flying Cloud Four Steps**, reappearing beside him. His foot lashed out like a divine whip.
**Crack!**
Bone shattered. Vance Crest screamed, blood spraying as he flew backward.
Rowan's killing intent surged to the limit. He stepped forward, fist hammering toward Vance Crest's head—one blow that would end it.
But just as death loomed, a powerful aura surged from behind.
"**Spare him!**"
A figure streaked in, snatching Vance Crest away.