Chapter 570: . His starting point is already your end point

Book 570. His Starting Point Is Already Your Endpoint

At the Hundred Great Star Zones Battlefield Base, more than half the personnel had been drawn out by this overwhelming cosmic phenomenon, gathering to witness it in awe. At the heart of the silver-lit sea of luminous particles, a colossal violet-red cocoon pulsed with latent power, encircled by dozens of radiant galactic ribbons—each a shimmering embodiment of fundamental cosmic laws—drifting slowly like silvery bands around its form.

Someone stared intently at those silver ribbons, murmuring as they counted, until finally arriving at the number:

Thirty-eight.

A full thirty-eight silver ribbons.

Thirty-eight distinct manifestations of rule-force.

Every onlooker was struck dumb, plunged into profound, staggering disbelief.

Ordinarily, an eleventh-rank warrior who refines a single martial art to the Fifth Realm’s zenith—thereby summoning rule-force—qualifies as twelfth-rank. Yet most newly ascended twelfth-rank warriors hover merely within the range of grasping one or two such rules. To master three or five requires extraordinary innate talent, astonishing insight, and an exceptional natural sensitivity to the universe’s underlying order—a rare martial genius indeed.

To grasp seven or eight, even ten or more rule-forces? Such twelfth-rank masters do exist—but nearly all are ancient beings who have lingered in that rank for over ten thousand years. Without vast spans of time for refinement and distillation, how could one possibly command so many rules?

In essence, comprehending rule-force is a slow, patient grind—like water wearing away stone.

Of course, the cosmos is boundless; there *are* prodigies born with preternatural understanding.

There *are* astonishingly young stars who wield numerous rule-forces—cosmic anomalies defying convention.

The undisputed top genius of the Hundred Battle Zone Base, Ornon Turing of the Turing Clan, stands as the prime example. Bearing an Immortal-tier bloodline, he ascended to twelfth-rank mere millennia ago—and already commands nearly twenty rule-forces, standing near the absolute pinnacle of his rank, poised on the cusp of thirteenth-rank ascension…

Potentially becoming the youngest Lawmaster in the history of the Hundred Battle Zone!

Ornon Turing is even hailed as the most promising candidate in the zone’s future to reach fifteenth-rank—the Sovereign tier.

But what of the figure now enclosed within that massive violet-red cocoon?

Good heavens—thirty-eight rule-forces, straight out of the gate.

Twice Ornon’s count.

And this is *before* full ascension to twelfth-rank—not even complete yet.

What does that imply?

It implies the being inside the cocoon is simultaneously refining *at least* thirty-eight distinct martial arts—each elevated to no less than the Fifth Realm.

Good lord—did this person begin training *in the womb*?

Even if one trained from conception, pushing through eleventh-rank until life’s end, until longevity exhausted entirely—how could anyone possibly attain mastery of thirty-eight Fifth-Realm martial disciplines?

All the observing elites stood stunned, hearts and minds reeling, utterly incapable of articulating the sheer magnitude of their astonishment.

Among the crowd, a strikingly handsome youth with long, icy-blue hair gazed at the spectacle, his expression equally thunderstruck.

Beside him, a familiar companion sighed, “The cosmos is vast—and monsters abound. Ornon Turing, this one here, and that other freak you once mentioned—the one with Immortal blood who defeated you at tenth-rank…”

He paused, then added, “Right, Mornlo?”

The blue-haired youth remained silent. His companion’s words stirred a memory—someone else, long buried in thought. He fixed his gaze upon the distant violet-red cocoon, silently comparing, weighing.

“If not for seeing it with my own eyes, I would never believe the stars could nurture such transcendent genius…”

Closest to the cocoon stood Mokodo, the Base’s Grand Star Commander—now flanked not only by Haiji Dao, but also two other formidable presences.

That last remark had come from the tall, golden-haired woman among them.

Haiji Dao and the third figure said nothing, yet their chins subtly bobbed up and down—unconsciously affirming her words.

Mokodo himself remained serene, six arms hanging naturally at his sides, six eyes calm, undisturbed.

Then, abruptly, he spoke:

“This youth’s starting point… is already the endpoint for many.”

Haiji Dao and the others froze—then their faces twisted into expressions of deep, complex realization.

Yes.

Grand Star Commander Mokodo was utterly correct.

Lu Sheng’s *starting line* at twelfth-rank was already a summit countless others would spend lifetimes striving—and failing—to reach.

Just as Haiji Dao and his companions knew all too well.

They still vividly recalled how many rule-forces they themselves had grasped upon first attaining twelfth-rank.

Roughly…

Roughly less than *one-third* of Lu Sheng’s count.

Rule-force is the very source of power for twelfth-rank warriors—and the bridge toward thirteenth-rank ascension.

There is no rigid prerequisite dictating how many rules one must master before ascending to thirteenth-rank.

Yet only by comprehending *sufficient* rules can one trace backward, deduce, and glimpse the faint outlines of universal *Law*—and thus ascend.

Moreover, the more rule-forces a warrior grasps, the deeper and more potent the Law they may uncover during ascension.

Rules themselves possess no hierarchy.

But Laws *do*.

It is like this: a martial artist who has mastered a hundred schools of combat—each technique refined, each principle internalized—will inevitably distill insights far beyond those of any single tradition.

After all, it is vastly deeper and more profound than those who have trained merely two or three martial arts.

And now, Lu Sheng—having just ascended to Level Twelve—already commands a staggering thirty-eight strands of Rule Power.

Then, once he reaches Level Thirteen and grasps the Laws…

How terrifying would that be?

“Wait!”

Suddenly, Hai Ji Dao and the other two realized something crucial.

Lu Sheng had clearly already comprehended one Law—

and not just any: the Thunder Law, formidable even among the known pantheon of Laws.

“If he ascends to Level Thirteen… won’t he wield *more than one* Law’s power?”

This thought slammed into their minds like a thunderclap.

Instantly, a profound shock, rising from the very core of their souls, surged through their entire beings.

At that exact moment, the nearby ocean of silver light-points convulsed violently.

Immediately afterward, two new, dazzling galactic ribbons—signifying fresh Rule Powers—spontaneously coalesced.

“Sssss—”

A chorus of sharp, collective intakes of breath echoed through the void.

Everyone stood stunned, nearly numb, their very souls trembling uncontrollably.

“Is this… still human?”

Countless minds in the arena echoed this same thought.

“Boom—!”

The colossal planetary wreckage disintegrated entirely within the explosive firestorm, reduced to dust.

An immense tide of black mist and smoke flowed like rivers converging into the sea, surging into Lu Sheng’s body.

He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation for a quiet while.

Only after fully absorbing this vast torrent of memory did he open his eyes once more.

“Almost there. The memories and legacies of five planets have completed thirteen of my Fifth Realm Peak techniques.

Now, the total number of Fifth Realm Peak martial arts I’ve mastered stands at twenty-five.

My spiritual power has also smoothly reached the pinnacle of Level Twelve.

Delaying further holds little meaning—I must take that decisive step now.”

With that thought, Lu Sheng casually reached into the churning sea of lightning-lava flames surrounding him—

and plucked out a murky, crimson crystalline sphere, as large as a human head.

Upon its surface twisted grotesque symbols and patterns; even a single glance would drive ordinary mortals mad with agony.

This was the core crystal of the Level Thirteen Beast Commander he had slain—

deliberately preserved until now, to serve as nourishment for his spiritual power’s leap to Level Thirteen.

His palm tightened slightly—and with a sharp *pop*, the eerie crystal shattered.

Instantly, countless streams of turbid, crimson vapor erupted forth.

Before they could scatter, Lu Sheng drew a deep, resonant breath—

and inhaled every last wisp into his nostrils and mouth.