Kaizen's consciousness returned in fragments—first the ache, then the weight, then the slow realization that he was still alive.
A bitter medicinal taste coated his tongue. Warmth seeped into his shattered limbs, threading through torn meridians and cracked bones like liquid fire being gently guided back into place. His eyelids fluttered open to the familiar stone ceiling of the Zaiton residence's inner infirmary, etched with ancient stabilizing runes. Soft spirit lamps glowed overhead, their light steady and calm, as if mocking the chaos he had barely survived.
"So you finally wake up," a low voice said.
Kaizen turned his head with effort. Elder Harn sat cross-legged beside the bed, palms resting on his knees, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion etched into his face. Behind him, shelves of rare pills and sealed jade bottles lined the wall—supplies only used when the family was pushed to the brink.
"How long?" Kaizen asked, his voice hoarse.
"Three days," Harn replied. "Another hour and even the healing pills might not have been enough."
Kaizen closed his eyes briefly, memories crashing back—Stannly Vabrigas standing like a god of war, the sky warping as that heaven-defying pressure descended, bones shattering under the third strike of the Big Bang Fist. If not for the volcanic smoke, the Zero Aura Technique, and a single moment of absolute calm… he would have died.
His fingers twitched. He could feel them.
Slowly, deliberately, Kaizen circulated his qi. Pain flared, then receded. The high-grade healing pills he had swallowed before losing consciousness were still working, dissolving into pure vitality that knitted bone and flesh together at an astonishing rate. His storage ring had saved him—again.
"You're lucky," Elder Harn said. "Most people don't walk away after being hit three times by chaos-force pressure."
Kaizen gave a faint smile. "Luck favors those who refuse to die."
Harn snorted. "Stubbornness, more like."
Only after Harn left did Kaizen allow himself to truly relax. His spiritual sense slipped inward, checking his body. Several ribs had been broken, his left arm fractured in two places, and his meridians showed micro-tears from forceful qi compression. Yet the damage was already fading. By tomorrow, he would be able to move freely. In three days, he would be battle-ready.
That was when he felt it.
Something new rested within his sea of consciousness—heavy, vast, and ancient.
Kaizen focused, and the world inside him shifted.
The memory fragments he had taken from Stannly's remains unfurled like a sealed scroll finally exposed to light. Lines of golden-black script burned themselves into his mind, each character carrying crushing intent.
Big Bang Fist Technique.
Not an imitation. Not a fragment.
The complete inheritance.
Kaizen's breath hitched.
"So it really was a heaven-defying technique…" he murmured.
As the knowledge poured in, he finally understood why Stannly had been so terrifying—and why, despite that, he had still lost.
The Big Bang Fist was divided into six levels.
The first level forged the body, turning bones into anchors capable of withstanding chaos-force recoil.
The second refined chaos force itself, compressing it into explosive pulses.
The third—the level Stannly had reached—allowed a cultivator to project that force outward, shattering enemies without direct contact.
Kaizen's eyes widened as the inheritance continued.
The fourth level fused chaos force with intent, allowing attacks to lock onto an enemy's very existence.
The fifth level bent space itself, turning a single punch into a collapsing star.
And the sixth…
The sixth level recreated the birth of the heavens—one strike capable of erasing armies, cities, even bloodlines.
Kaizen let out a low, incredulous laugh.
"Wow… if he had mastered this to the sixth level, I really would've been dead meat."
The realization sent a chill down his spine. For the first time since entering the Forest of the Abyss, fear crept into his heart—not of death, but of how small he still was in the grand scheme of things.
Strength attracted enemies.
Greater strength attracted monsters.
And heaven-defying strength… attracted calamity.
His expression hardened.
Then I'll just have to become strong enough to survive calamity.
Later that night, once he could sit upright, Kaizen retrieved the other spoils from his storage ring. Items he had barely glanced at before collapsing now demanded attention.
First came the cultivation resources.
Spirit crystals of such purity that even the Zaiton elders would hesitate to use them. A bundle of Crimson Bone Grass—rare enough to reinforce skeletal foundations permanently. Moon-Shadow Marrow, sealed in a jade vial, capable of repairing and expanding meridians. And at the bottom of the ring…
A Heaven-Grade Origin Pellet.
Kaizen's fingers trembled slightly as he held it. This wasn't something meant for someone at his level. Using it prematurely could cripple him—or propel him forward in a single leap.
He set it aside.
Not yet.
Next, he unfurled the final item: a thin, metallic sheet inscribed with shifting runes.
A map.
The moment his qi touched it, the runes stabilized, revealing a detailed layout of territories surrounding the Zaiton domain—hidden paths, resource zones, beast nests, and, most importantly, enemy strongholds.
Coalition territories.
Supply routes.
Emergency formations.
Kaizen's lips curved upward slowly.
So that was the real inheritance Stannly had been guarding.
"This changes everything," he whispered.
By dawn, Arron Zaiton arrived.
The family head stood at the foot of Kaizen's bed, hands clasped behind his back, his expression calm but his eyes sharp with restrained concern.
"You recovered faster than expected," Arron said.
"I had help," Kaizen replied, glancing at the pill residue on the side table.
Arron nodded. Silence stretched between them before he spoke again.
"One of the coalition elders survived long enough to send a message," Arron said quietly. "He told me about the battle. About Stannly. About you."
Kaizen's gaze sharpened. "The family knows?"
"No," Arron said. "Only me. And Elder Harn."
Kaizen understood immediately.
If word spread that Kaizen had killed a grand master cultivator wielding a heaven-defying technique, panic would ripple through the family—and the enemies would accelerate their plans.
"So you kept it secret," Kaizen said.
Arron met his eyes. "Until you are strong enough that secrecy is no longer necessary."
Kaizen inclined his head. "That was the right decision."
Arron studied him for a long moment, then smiled faintly. "You brought back something else, didn't you?"
Kaizen produced the map.
Arron's breath caught.
With practiced composure, the family head examined it, his expression shifting from surprise to disbelief, then to quiet awe.
"With this," Arron said slowly, "we can prepare. Not just react."
Kaizen leaned back against the pillows, pain flaring briefly before fading. "That's why I survived."
Arron straightened. "Rest. Recover fully. When you're ready, we'll plan."
After Arron left, Kaizen stared at the ceiling once more.
Heaven-defying techniques. Rare resources. Maps of war.
And enemies who would never stop coming.
His fists clenched.
"More power attracts more enemies," he said softly. "Then I'll make sure I'm strong enough to crush them all."
Outside, the spirit lamps burned steadily—unaware that within the Zaiton residence, a storm was quietly preparing to rise.