Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Max’s eyes sharpened.

The young man noticed and gave a faint nod.

”Yes. Even someone from a mortal realm should understand what the title Sword Saint means.”

”It is not merely a realm title. It is a title acknowledged by heaven and by generations of swordsmen. It refers to one whose understanding of the sword surpassed ordinary paths and entered sanctity.”

His gaze grew distant as he continued.

”It is said the Sword Saint was born in an era of endless war when forces slaughtered forces, empires shattered worlds, and sword cultivators filled the heavens like stars. In that age, countless supreme swordsmen rose, each believing themselves unmatched.”

”But when the Sword Saint appeared, every blade in the world dimmed.”

Max remained silent, listening carefully.

The young man’s voice lowered as though speaking of a taboo existence.

”Some legends say he carried no famous weapon and used a plain iron sword taken from a village forge. Some say he used a wooden branch and defeated divine blades. Others claim he wielded no sword at all, and that the world itself became his blade.”

”No one knows which tale is true.”

”What all records agree upon is that wherever he went, sword concept transformed.”

He pointed toward the boulder.

”It is said this stone once stood at the center of an ancient battlefield where millions fought. When the Sword Saint arrived, he did not kill everyone with one technique like in exaggerated stories. Instead, he stood before this boulder and practiced sword arts.”

Max frowned slightly.

”Practiced?”

The young man nodded.

”Yes. Practiced.”

”That is what terrifies later generations the most.”

”These marks were not supposedly created during life-and-death combat. They were said to be casual traces left while refining and evolving his sword art.”

Max’s pupils contracted.

The young man continued with increasing awe.

”Every slash represented a variation. Every thrust represented a change in principle. Every shallow cut reflected a solved flaw. Every deep scar contained a complete transformation of intent.”

”In other words, the boulder is believed to record the evolution of the Sword Saint’s supreme sword art from imperfection to transcendence.”

Max instinctively looked again at the countless marks.

Suddenly they seemed even more terrifying.

The young man spoke on.

”That sword art has many names in different eras. Some call it the Heaven-Cutting Scripture. Some call it the Nameless Saint Sword. Some call it the Path of One Blade.”

”But the most respected name is the Saint Origin Sword Art.”

”Because many believe every modern sword inheritance can trace some fragment of philosophy back to it.”

His tone became bitterly admiring.

”Do you know what that means?”

”It means countless sword forces may proudly guard their so-called supreme arts, yet those arts might only be descendants of scraps born from these marks.”

Max’s breathing grew slower.

The young man pointed toward the front rows where powerful cultivators sat motionless.

”You see those people closest to the boulder?”

”Some have sat here for hundreds of thousands of years attempting to comprehend what lies within. Some are Divine King Realm experts. Some are Holy Lord Realm tyrants. There are even Holy King Realm existences among them.”

He shook his head.

”Any one of them could establish a third-rate force, dominate star realms, gather endless resources, and live like emperors.”

”But they chose to remain here.”

”Why?”

”Because if even one fragment of the Sword Saint’s sword art is truly understood, it may be worth more than ruling ten thousand worlds.”

He laughed softly.

”Yet none have fully succeeded.”

”Some gained sharper sword intent. Some created new techniques inspired by a single mark. Some broke bottlenecks after staring at the stone for millennia.”

”But no one has ever confidently declared that they comprehended the complete sword art hidden within.”

His eyes returned to the boulder with burning desire.

”That is why this place never empties.”

”Generations come and fail. Then new generations arrive and dream again.”

Max said nothing for a long while.

His gaze fixed on the countless marks carved across the ancient stone.

If those traces truly recorded the rise of a Sword Saint’s supreme art, then the opportunity before him was far greater than any inheritance he had imagined.

And suddenly he understood why the Perfect Grade reward had brought him here.

Max continued staring at the ancient boulder, yet his mind was no longer focused solely on the countless sword marks carved into its surface.

A memory had risen from deep within him.

The Tower of Truth.

Within that tower had been one place he would never forget.

Tomb of the Sword Saint.

Max’s eyes narrowed slowly as the connection became clearer and clearer.

”I once entered the Sword Saint’s Tomb within the Tower of Truth to comprehend my Severing Sword Concept.”

At that time, he had only regarded the name as grand and mysterious. Countless ancient inheritances used exaggerated titles, so he had not thought too deeply about it.

But now he stood in a place where Divine Kings, Holy Lords, and ancient experts remained seated for hundreds of thousands of years before a stone marked by a Sword Saint.

Now the title carried terrifying weight.

Could two unrelated places both bear the name Sword Saint by coincidence?

The more Max thought about it, the less likely that seemed.

The Tower of Truth had belonged to a Primordial, and Primordials were existences tied to the deeper history of the Divine Realm itself. If such a being had deliberately preserved a location known as the Sword Saint’s Tomb, then the Sword Saint referenced there was almost certainly no fabricated figure.

Max slowly turned his gaze back toward the giant boulder.

The Sword Saint whose sword marks still suppressed modern experts.

The Sword Saint whose traces made his own concepts tremble.

The Sword Saint whose legacy still drew generations of swordsmen into obsession.

A strong possibility formed in his heart.

They were the same person.

That realization alone was enough to stir his emotions, but then another thought struck him with even greater force.