Damon's Ascension-Chapter 117: War in Xiangyang 18

The problem would persist if he took this fruit and became a Martial God, but did he have a choice? This was the only way to maximize his gains at the time of settlement, not to mention that he had an advantage.

While others had to accumulate to increase power, he simply had to Level Up and increase physical stats to increase Internal Force until he eventually surpassed the strongest Martial God, so it was not hopeless.

It was also because of this revelation that Damon refrained from doing anything violent so far, because if his actions caused some random Martial God zo appear - even though it was claimed that none existed here - his time in this Instance could come to an abrupt and unfortunate end.

Anyway, that was inconsequential before the promise of power, so Damon swallowed the Bodhi Fruit whole without chewing.

As he swallowed the transcendent item, a strange warmth spread through his chest that was neither hot nor cold, but rather something warmer and ancient. His entire being seemed to pulse once, then fall silent, as if the world itself had taken a breath in his place.

Damon exhaled slowly and returned to his lotus position, once more stepping into the void within his mind.

The golden and indigo threads behind him glowed with an intense light, clearly strengthened by the Bodhi Fruit’s influence. The visualized void itself felt thicker now, less like disorganized open space and more like a properly planned area with clearly defined boundaries.

Then Damon focused his mind and sensed his target, the next and final thread. This one shone far more faintly than the others, and not because it was weak, but rather because it wasn’t meant to be easily seen. It pulsed gently with a false illusion of warmth and kinship, but was fragile and easily shattered by coldness and distance.

And unlike the others, this thread resisted identification because its nature wasn’t through clarity, by strength or with the self, but rather it lay in the acceptance and connection with others.

The Thread of Collectivism, of shared burden, unity, compromise, and belonging to the group.

Damon hovered before it, and with a flicker of instinct, a memory rose to meet him.

He was maybe eight years old, seated in a prime and expensive primary school classroom for upper-class Ghanaian children.

The wooden desks were new, instead of a chalkboard they had a whiteboard, and the only form of encouragement was fear through corporal punishment.

Their teacher, who was a lean and bitter man with a cane in one hand as well as a frown on his face, paced the classroom like a jailor checking inmates.

"Unity! Unity is strength! If one child fails, the whole group suffers!" He barked, pointing at their group assignment with the cane.

Young Damon clenched his tiny fists with irritation as his female deskmate wept silently with her head lowered. She couldn’t recite the math drill correctly and because of that, all of the kids on their row were forced to remain standing until the two-period class of 40 minutes each was done.

"We are one! If one falls, all fall!"

The cane cracked against the whiteboard as their math teacher during that era looked at them with intensity, probably thinking he would be helping these kids build a better future like this.

No... even back then, Damon had known this wasn’t unity, it was coercion disguised as community. A form of control rooted in guilt, where you either conformed or faced exclusion. And for a social creature like the human being, that fear of isolation ran deep, giving rise to countless issues that plagued both individuals and society at large.

Damon opened his mental eyes in the void, hovering before the glowing thread. Just like before and as always, its glow was soft and familiar.

But looking at it now, Damon realized something deeper. For all his life, collectivism had meant obligation, not companionship, especially in the context of his society which promoted collectivism to a strong degree, and it was time to cut it.

He raised a hand, his breath calm and his accumulated aura rippling outward.

"Strike not at the body..."

The thread quivered.

"...but the thread between breath and being."

The thread shimmered, resisting slightly and trying to send signals of acceptance if he gave up this ’foolish’ path, but Damon’s willpower had long passed the stage of hesitation.

He understood the nature of false community, and of weaponized camaraderie when used as shackles so with a calm focus, he pressed his hand forward and the thread snapped.

From that space, a new Internal Force thread emerged, white as bone and soft as fog. It wound itself through the others, golden ego, indigo restraint, silver logic, green perception, and balanced between them like a DNA helix.

But where the others reinforced his self, this one did the opposite, as it defined the boundary between himself and others.

This was the severance of guilt-bound unity and imposed community, heightening his sense of individualism which was already quite strong.

Damon felt lighter... yet more alone but in that solitude, there was greater desire for strength to achieve one’s wishes at the cost of others.

Back in the real world, the air around the Crane Ridge cultivation chamber pressed inward, thick and heavy.

The candles around Damon’s seated form extinguished one by one, not snuffed, but rather devoured by something that refused to be witnessed.

His form remained perfectly still, but the shadows on the wall behind him stretched outward like reaching arms hungry to devour the existence of reality before being pulled back sharply into him.

Outside the cultivation chamber, the silence had become almost eerie.

Chen Yuan was standing watch when he felt it first, an almost primal discomfort, like the world had shifted an inch to the left without telling anyone, causing the hair on the back of his neck to stand upright.

"...What is this presence?" He muttered.

Xue Rou paused mid-paperwork, her brush frozen above the parchment. "It feels... wrong. Or rather... off? Like something fundamental just twisted."

Sun Liang looked up from where he was leaning on the bannister, his face pale. "It’s him, isn’t it? The boss again."

The courtyard trembled with pulsing power that was of a grade that could cause changes to the environment itself.

Xu Baochun, leaning lazily against a post while munching on snacks, now wore a rare expression of complete seriousness as his cloudy eyes stared toward the sealed chamber.

"...Four threads... no, five. He’s severed five threads. That final one..." he murmured, clicking his tongue. "Tsk. I thought he’d hesitate."

Xue Rou shot to her feet. "What final one?"

"The last tether," Xu Baochun replied, his voice heavy. "And it seems... he chose collectivism."

"Unity and community, the tether that holds you to the expectations of others and severing it removes the illusion of mutual obligation. From now on, that boy won’t need justification to stand alone... he’ll prefer it." Xu Baochun explained casually, leaning back against the post with folded arms, his eyes narrowed in thought.

Sun Liang muttered. "That’s... a little terrifying?"

At that moment, the doors to the cultivation chamber opened and Damon stepped out with a smile as usual.

His footsteps did not seem to make a sound while his breathing didn’t disturb the air. When he passed a patch of sunlight, it didn’t touch him, but rather highlighted his outline and shadow.

He looked at the four people here and felt that he could also ’detach’ them from conception briefly, meaning he could make his party members in reality invisible as well for their spelunk into the Chaos Realm by burning Internal Force.

"...Sir?" Chen Yuan ventured, unsure.

"Calm yourselves, nothing changes." Damon stated softly.

They obeyed immediately.

Xu Baochun exhaled and walked over with his hands behind his back. "I knew you would return changed, but this... this is beyond even my worst predictions."

He gave a dry chuckle. "I’m not even sure what to call you anymore. ’Monster’, perhaps?"

"Not a monster. Just focused on my goal," Damon replied with a faint smile.

Xu Baochun snorted and pulled out four tightly bound scrolls from his sleeve, each marked with the ancient ink-stamps of the original Zen Sect. Unlike the decorative prints of modern sects, these were done in iron-black calligraphy that bled faint killing intent.

"These are the only external martial arts worth learning from our school. We Zen Sect disciples didn’t like relying on them much, but we refined them enough to survive in hell," he said, handing them over.

Damon took them without hesitation as they were exactly what he needed. He analyzed each one and identified their details from a written summary at the beginning.

"Flowing Iron Curtain" – A defensive technique that uses subtle body movements and minimal Qi expenditure to redirect, absorb, or collapse momentum-based attacks. At higher mastery, it allows redirection of even spiritual techniques, functioning like a pressureless dome of pure reaction.

"Silent Wheel Palm" – An offensive technique rooted in layered spirals of force. Instead of striking once, the user builds invisible rotational pressure through palm contact, which erupts several seconds later—causing delayed internal devastation without external bruising.

"Shadow Tide Step" – A movement technique not meant for speed, but non-linearity. The body shifts in unnatural patterns, disrupting targeting perception. To observers, it appears like the user is skipping time in reality, impossible to predict or anchor.

"Withering Thread Style" – A weapon technique meant for extremely thin, flexible blades or wires. It uses minimal movements, exploiting angles and blind spots to disable or sever tendons, pressure points, and meridians. Subtle and surgical.

"These four techniques were created for disciples who mastered the Empty Soul Palm, and they don’t rely on brute power. They were made for clarity, detachment, and silence." Xu Baochun explained with nostalgic pride.

Damon looked down at the scrolls for a moment then nodded. "They’ll serve their purpose."

Xu Baochun gave him a questioning look. "...What now?"

Damon looked out toward the far horizon, where Jiangxia’s festival would begin with first light.

"Now? We have all the pieces, so I’m going to attend the Spring Challenge Festival and set the stage." Damon answered, knowing that this may likely be the last moment of peace in this Instance.