บททั้งหมดของ The Cultivator's Revenge: บทที่ 121 - บทที่ 130

Rayden walked down the descending corridor, each step taking him deeper into the tower's belly. The air, once merely cold, now felt damp, and the silence was broken by the faint echo of the scream he had heard earlier.The farther he went, the stronger a strange, acrid smell became—a sharp mixture of chemicals he didn't recognize and the rancid scent of burnt flesh.'What is this place?' he thought, his vigilance increasing a hundredfold.The corridor ended at a pair of massive, unadorned steel doors, cold to the touch. In the center, a small, grimy window of thick, opaque crystal offered a narrow slit to peek through. He pressed his eye to it. What he saw beyond was the very definition of a meticulously organized hell.It was a vast alchemy laboratory. Dozens of polished black stone tables were arranged in perfect rows. Atop them, giant glass tubes filled with strangely colored liquids bubbled slowly, connected by a web of intricate crystal pipes. Dozens of black-robed alchemists mov

Rayden's heart skipped a beat. He'd been caught.The captain below continued, his calm yet menacing voice echoing in the empty corridor, creeping up through the ventilation grate. "Show yourself," he said, "Or I will cleanse this entire sector with fire."In the cramped, dusty darkness, Rayden remained motionless. Panic was a luxury he did not have. His mind, forged in danger, worked at lightning speed, analyzing the situation. "Fire?" he thought bitterly. "You'll need more than fire to get me out of here."To fight here, in the middle of a barracks filled with hundreds of fanatical Sentinels, was suicide. He had to create an opening, a diversion, no matter how small. He reached into his storage ring with an incredibly slow movement, his deft fingers finding a low-level explosive rune—an artifact normally used for training, no more powerful than a firecracker.With a precise flick of his wrist, he tossed it through the ventilation system, aiming it toward the far end of the corridor,

The giant obsidian door loomed before Rayden, not as a gate, but as an ending. The end of a soul-crushing ascent, the end of a ten-year wait. His breathing, which had been roaring in his ears, was now forced into a calm, deep rhythm. Behind it, the aura of Brahma awaited. No longer a crashing wave, but a silent ocean, holding a depth impossible to measure.'This is it.' The thought echoed in his mind, not with the fire of anger, but with the clarity of ice. All his doubts had been burned away on that cursed staircase.He raised a hand, feeling the cold seeping from the door's surface even before his fingers made contact. "I am here, Brahma," he whispered to the silence, a proclamation for himself.His hand touched the door. The surface, which felt as hard as diamond, rippled like water. There was no sound of hinges, no groan of stone. The obsidian melted into liquid shadow, flowing into the walls on either side as if parting a midnight curtain, then solidifying again without a seam.R

The question wasn't just words. It was a cold surgical instrument, digging into the deepest of Rayden's spiritual wounds and twisting without mercy.The silence that followed the question vibrated. The spiritual pressure pinning Rayden to the obsidian floor now felt trivial. There was another, far heavier weight—a weight of memory and humiliation—that threatened to crush his very soul from within.'He… how dare he…'A crack was heard, not from the floor, but from the fortress of self-control Rayden had built for ten years. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The veins on his temples bulged, and the edges of his vision began to turn red.The sound that escaped his throat was more like the growl of a mortally wounded animal. "You…"Each syllable was a battle against the urge to scream.“Are not worthy to know or even speak her name!"BOOM!The obsidian floor beneath him didn't just crack; it exploded upward. With a roar that tore through the majestic silence of the hall, Rayden

Rayden's heart felt as if it had stopped beating. His sword, which had been his companion for years, was now held helplessly between his enemy's two ordinary-looking fingers. The force clamping down on the blade felt so absolute, so unshakeable, as if his sword were being held by a mountain."Let go!" he yelled, a roar born more from shock than from anger. He summoned all his remaining physical strength, trying to wrench his sword back.But Brahma Angkara did not release it. He looked at the sword blade with the same detached interest as when he had been admiring his calligraphy. Then, with a flicker of pressure so slight it was almost invisible, he bent his two fingers.CRACK!The sound was not of bending metal, but of breaking metal. Rayden's prized sword, forged in spiritual fire and tempered in a mountain waterfall, snapped cleanly in two.Rayden, whose soul was connected to his sword, felt a painful spiritual shockwave slam into his consciousness. He staggered back several steps,