Level 1 to Infinity: My Bloodline Is the Ultimate Cheat!-Chapter 887: Breaking Point

The second collision sent Ethan skidding backward across the ice, his boots scraping loudly as he staggered nearly a dozen steps. This time, though, he didn’t lose his footing. His balance wavered, arms flaring out instinctively, but he managed to stay upright instead of being launched back into the lake.

That alone felt like progress.

"Again..." he muttered, the word torn from his throat like a growl.

Five seconds passed.

The violent flush in his muscles slowly faded to a dull pink as the heat ebbed away. His breathing steadied, each inhale less ragged than the last. Beneath the pain and exhaustion, he could feel it—Force Resonance beginning to rise once more. Not the kind of explosive surge that ripped through his body and left him half-broken, but something steadier. It felt controlled. Combined with his Bear form, it might finally be enough.

For the first time since the exchange began, a dangerous thought crept in. He might be able to fight back.

This time, Ethan didn’t wait.

He kicked off the ice and shot forward, crossing the frozen lake in a blur. The distance between him and the White Qilin vanished in an instant.

The Qilin spun into motion. The movement was sudden, far too sudden.

Ethan faltered mid-charge, every instinct screaming at him to stop, but momentum had already betrayed him. His punch was committed as his weight was thrown fully forward. For a split second, he couldn’t even comprehend what the creature was doing.

Then the White Qilin turned its hindquarters toward him.

Ethan’s pupils shrank.

"Aw, shit—"

The Qilin’s rear leg snapped out. This was a mule kick.

It was the most devastating natural attack any four-hooved beast possessed. Horses used it. Mules used it. Donkeys used it. And after three days of beating him down almost exclusively with its front hooves, the White Qilin finally reminded Ethan that it could use it too.

He’d seen this move before, Blackie had done the same thing once.

There was no pulling back now. No last-second correction. His punch was already in motion, force coiled and ready to explode. If he tried to abort it, that power would just tear uselessly through his own body.

Ethan bared his teeth and punched anyway.

BOOM.

The impact dwarfed the previous collisions.

There was no spatial rift this time. Instead, jagged purple cracks tore through the air itself, spiderwebbing outward like shattered glass. They raced forward, slammed into the White Qilin’s hide, and vanished without leaving a mark.

Ethan wasn’t so lucky.

His body flew like a kite with its string cut, launched helplessly through the air before slamming into the black sludge beyond the ice. The impact carved a long trench through the muck as he plowed forward for nearly a hundred meters before finally skidding to a stop.

’Fuck.’

The thought barely finished forming before his vision rolled back and darkness swallowed him whole.

---

Four days passed.

Above the black lake, the fireworks-like spectacle continued without pause. Blackie, completely absorbed in its own trial, never noticed that its boss had stopped moving. Ethan’s presence had gone utterly still.

After his collapse, something strange began to happen.

The lake’s frozen, milky surface started to melt—not all at once, but slowly. At first, it was just a thin trickle of pale liquid, creeping along the deep groove Ethan’s body had carved. It flowed toward him with eerie intent, spilled over his unmoving form, and gradually submerged him beneath the cloudy surface.

There he remained for four full days.

On the fifth day, darkness stirred beneath the water.

A tiny loach wriggled free from the depths and surfaced. Moments later, a second followed—this one gleaming gold, a sight that had not appeared in a very long time.

The dark loach was the Dragon of Consumption.

The golden one was the Fortune Dragon.

Without hesitation, the Dragon of Consumption shot toward the massive mountain range encircling the lake. As it flew, its form unraveled, expanding into a colossal purple vortex that swallowed the sky. The mountains trembled violently, stone groaning under invisible pressure, and faint, distant screams echoed from deep within their bodies.

The Fortune Dragon rose more slowly.

Its small head tilted as it peered down through the milky water, where Ethan’s submerged figure was barely visible. It glanced toward the roiling vortex, then back at Ethan, hesitation flickering in its golden eyes. After a moment, it snapped its tail sharply and followed after the Dragon of Consumption.

---

The purple vortex pulsed, dense with violent, devouring energy.

The giant catfish sensed its master instantly. A desperate, wailing cry tore from its throat—a raw, anguished sound, like a creature calling out to its last hope of salvation. As the vortex closed in, the catfish twisted its massive body and dove straight into it without hesitation.

On the opposite side of the battlefield, the scene was utter devastation.

A gaping wound nearly a kilometer wide tore through the catfish’s flank, flesh shredded and bleeding freely. Nearby, eight figures hovered in the air. Their white cloaks drifted away, revealing their true forms at last.

Angels.

Not metaphors. Not artistic interpretations. Real, mythological angels.

Each bore a pair of pristine white wings, exactly as described in ancient legends, feathers radiant and untainted. Below them, the Dark Web experts stared upward in stunned silence as realization finally settled in.

The rumors had been true, the Feathers really were angels.

Some had suspected it before, only to be mocked with theories about fallen angels and blackened wings. Now, there was no room for doubt.

Eight two-winged angels. The lowest tier in the celestial hierarchy, perhaps—but angels nonetheless.

The implications were horrifying. If this truth ever reached the outside world, entire nations would likely collapse into worship overnight. And that thought led the more paranoid among them to an even darker conclusion.

If the Feathers were willing to reveal their secret here, in front of dozens of witnesses... then what did that mean for the witnesses?

A primal urge to flee surged through the crowd. Muscles tightened and hearts thundered.

Yet no one ran.

Everyone understood the same thing. To turn and flee now would be to declare oneself prey.

---

The angels pressed their assault, and the catfish’s agonized cries echoed across the battlefield, saturating the air with suffering.

Then the purple vortex arrived.

The wounded beast surged toward it with desperate speed, its massive body moving far faster than anyone expected. The Dark Web experts stiffened, senses sharpening. Even the angels paused, their wings visibly thinning as the strain of sustaining such overwhelming power began to show.

Maintaining that level of output demanded enormous sacrifice. Judging by the state of their feathers, they were nearing their limits.

Before anyone could react, the catfish vanished completely into the vortex.

The purple vortex did not disappear. Instead, it hung motionless for a brief, ominous moment. Then it began to rotate.

Without warning, it lunged forward—charging straight at the eight angels.

They hadn’t expected this.

They had assumed the vortex was merely a portal, an entrance or exit point. It never occurred to them that the vortex itself could move—much less attack.

The lead angel reacted instantly.

A blade of pure light condensed in his grasp, blinding in its brilliance. He raised it overhead with both hands, and in a single heartbeat, the weapon extended outward, growing until it stretched nearly a kilometer long.

He brought it down.

BOOM.

The impact was strangely muted, as though swallowed by something vast.

Part of the blade’s energy vanished into the vortex, absorbed without resistance. But the rest struck true.

The purple vortex shuddered violently, then was hurled backward, spinning across the sky from the sheer force of the blow.

"Damn it..." a grumbling voice echoed from within as the vortex stabilized. Moments later, it collapsed inward, revealing a catfish roughly a hundred meters long, floating in midair. "He’s too weak. He dragged me down to his level."

The Dark Web experts blinked in confusion.

Another catfish? Was it the same one?

"Wait... that one has claws."

"What kind of creature is that?"

"Man, no idea..."

Confused murmurs rippled through the crowd. They could all sense it. This catfish, while still terrifying by any normal standard, was nowhere near as powerful as the mountain-sized monster from before. Attacks that the larger beast had endured with ease had sent this one flying.

Still, a hundred meters was more than enough to inspire dread.

Some experts glanced toward the distant Nine-Color Lake, visible beyond the battlefield, but not a single person dared approach. The eight angels dominated the area completely, their presence overwhelming. Many were already resigning themselves to leaving empty-handed.

With the Feathers here, what chance did anyone else have?

"Our objectives differ," one of the angels suddenly announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the battlefield. "The one called Ethan belongs to you."

Heads snapped up as shock flashed across dozens of faces.

They had different targets? Something else here... was there something valuable enough to draw the attention of angels?

Thoughts raced. If they couldn’t pursue Ethan, then perhaps they could follow the angels instead, scavenging whatever remnants or opportunities were left behind.

At the very least, they couldn’t afford to miss what came next.