Reverse Cultivation of the Icy Heart, Heavenly Martial Killing Path

Conrad was a man with a strong sense of morality, but sometimes his sense of justice was uncontrollable, leading him to become excessive and extreme.

That was why he chose to cultivate the Heart-Freezing Art as his first core technique.

At the time, he only remembered the first four lines: Heart like ice, clear and bright; heaven collapses, no fright. Everything changes, yet I remain steady; spirit is calm, energy is ready.

Though he did not understand its meaning and only possessed a fragment, he practiced it whenever he felt frustrated, and it always had the effect of cooling his heart and calming his spirit.

That was when he was nine years old; a vicious bully had arrived at their orphanage and immediately tried to establish dominance by picking on his friends.

He could not tolerate it, so he rushed up and threw his fists into the fray, knocking out three of the bully's teeth.

He was sent to solitary confinement in the dark room for three days.

But the bully was truly a bully; after Conrad was released, he discovered that during those three days, the bully had taught all his friends a lesson, scaring them into silence so they wouldn't report him to the teachers.

Conrad was enraged. Without a word, he grabbed his weapon of choice—a sturdy dog-beating stick he had picked up by the riverbank—and cracked the bully's head open.

He was sent to solitary confinement for five days.

When Conrad was released this time, he found that the bully had not only escalated his behavior but had done something unforgivable: he had torn up the comic book the bookstore owner had gifted him.

He had also found and discarded his precious dog-beating stick.

The bully claimed that Conrad relied on weapons and demanded a fair fight.

To be honest, using a weapon was meant to protect the bully, because when Conrad used his fists, he... would experience a sense of pleasure.

Every time his fist struck a face, the collision of blood and muscle made him feel incredibly excited, and it was difficult for him to stop.

Conrad later learned through the Imperial Classic of World Governance that this was because of his life star—the Ten Thousand Mile Slaughter.

So, during that fight, he lost control. He gripped the neck of the incorrigible bully and tried to kill him, wanting to rid his friends of this menace.

Even though those friends didn't particularly like him, he didn't care; he had his own rhythm.

By the time his mind cleared, he had already beaten three female teachers to tears and was being held down on the grass by two male teachers.

Nearby, the orphanage doctor was performing CPR on the bully.

He was sent to solitary confinement for a week.

But this time, he had gone too far.

Even while locked in the dark room, Conrad's blood remained agitated and his heart continued to race; that violent surge of emotion could no longer be suppressed, even by reciting the Heart-Freezing Art.

He recited it faster and faster, more and more chaotically, until, as if possessed, he began reciting it in reverse.

"Fright... fright... heaven collapses in fright!"

His breathing reversed, and his energy flowed only out, never in.

Conrad had suffered a cultivation deviation.

Before long, he was suffocating from a lack of oxygen; his heart rate plummeted, and his blood, lacking the pump of his heartbeat, stagnated in his brain.

He knew that if this continued, he would die. He had to get his blood flowing and breathe normally to replenish his oxygen.

But he couldn't do it; he could only gasp for air.

Just then, he saw a mouse squeaking in the dark room, and a thought suddenly appeared in his mind: practice the Heavenly Martial Killing Path.

He had known this mouse for a long time; from the beginning, when it didn't dare to approach him, to recently, when it would run over to beg for food during his meals. He had been generous, sharing with it every time.

But this time, the mouse was met with a slap—a cruel, brutal slap.

It was impossible to describe the blurred scene as blood and gore splattered, just as it was impossible to describe the near-ascension of pleasure Conrad felt in that instant.

His entire being felt unblocked.

His energy flowed with absolute smoothness, the Heart-Freezing Art having been reversed and cultivated in reverse.

After leaving the dark room, he broke into the infirmary that very night and dragged the bully to the riverbank for a brutal beating. This time, the other party didn't even dare to report it to the caregivers, hiding his injuries perfectly.

When he reached a point where he felt nothing and his threshold was maxed out, Conrad wanted to turn his lethal intent toward his own friends.

He realized what he was doing and stopped himself, voluntarily requesting to be sent back to the dark room to seclude himself and contemplate the Infinite Vibration Zen he was now most proficient in, sealing the source of his emotions within his brain.

At this time.

At this moment.

Baby-5 had never seen Conrad look like this; he was gripping his own hands so hard, staring at her as if he wanted to devour her.

"Are... are you okay?" she asked, worried.

"I'm better than okay!" Conrad looked at the Mafia members who appeared like ants; he bared his teeth, the corners of his mouth stretching nearly to his ears. "I've never been better!"

The moon was dim and lightless, and among the constellations, his life star, surrounded by enemies on all sides, blazed with a crimson radiance, as if it had extinguished the moon.

In the first row, the bald bodyguard removed his hat, pulled a red rocket launcher marked with FT-G from the booth seat, and connected it to the iron cable on his right arm.

Conrad recognized this guy: a killer from the Bege Fire Tank Pirates. Just a moment ago, looking at that nondescript bearded face, he hadn't been able to tell.

"Good! Good! Good!" In an instant, he understood that Bege was behind this; this guy was a mole.

In his entire life, he hated sneaking and skulking the most.

"Baby-5!"

"Present." Baby-5 chuckled and nodded, "What shall I..."

"Just do whatever the hell you want! Hahaha! Charge!"

Conrad stepped forward, holding Baby-5 as he leaped into the spotlight on the stage.

Crimson Haki erupted from the top of his head like slithering snakes, coiling through his hair and splitting into a dozen strands, like dancing fire serpents.

Bang!

Geppo.

A crimson shadow soared into the air.

He was exposed to the dense muzzles of the mafia filling the audience seats.

As Baby-5 passed through the shifting lights, she held Conrad's neck from the side, gazing at his ecstatic face while contemplating what weapon she should transform into.

If asked what her most important memory in life was, she would have thought it was their first meeting on the snow island, then the second time they jumped into the sea, but later she realized it was every moment they spent together; the future would always be good, and she couldn't rank one above the other.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Pistols and flintlocks fired in a volley.

The crimson shadow stomped through the air, shattering the atmosphere, shifting from a horizontal charge to a ninety-degree vertical dive straight into the audience.

Like a flapping bat, Conrad latched his hands onto the back of a burly man in black, his ten fingers digging into the muscles like iron hooks, locking into the gaps of the shoulder blades.

Baby-5 looked at Conrad's fingers and thought this wouldn't do; it was bad for his nails and prone to causing fractures—he needed a pair of gloves.

Tony and the King, watching from the top of the opera house, couldn't see clearly and shouted anxiously, "Kill him! Kill him..."

Shing!

Ten hideous claws, covered in shark-tooth-like streamlined blood grooves and stained with bright red blood, pierced through the chest of the man in black.

Guided by his aura, blood flowed along the grooves toward Conrad's skin, sucked and swallowed by his pores.

If his Haki in the past was like steam—a passion seeking to break through the sky—it was now a great whirlpool, a violence destined to sweep across the ocean.

"Yeah! Heavenly Martial Killing Path—Life-Severing Path!"

The life star that had been suppressed for ten years was opening its eyes, flickering, and reveling in its long-awaited liberation.

When the shark-toothed claws tore the wall-like man in half, not a single drop of blood splattered; all that hit the ground were withered, stick-like remains hanging off the skeleton.

Conrad's black hair surged, his once neat short hair growing into a wild, beast-like mane visible to the naked eye.

His arms hung before his slightly hunched frame, dangling two bloodthirsty shark claws larger than his own head.

"Yahoo~!"

He let out a long howl toward the sky, his replenished Haki flooding his eyeballs until blood vessels crawled across his pupils, leaving no trace of his clear black eyes.

"Switch to melee weapons! Don't hit our own men! Quick..."

The mafia squad leader shouted, but his cry came to an abrupt halt as a spider-like black shadow descended abruptly before him, revealing a hooked, white-toothed grin beneath blood-red eyes.

The black hair coiled around him like spider legs, wrapping him up like a cocoon.

He no longer heard the order to use melee weapons; his face distorted in a scream as he frantically pulled the trigger of his revolver, firing at Conrad.

But the protection of Baby-5's shark claws was so hard that it easily deflected the bullets, not even sparking.

The cocoon wrapped him for a few seconds before writhing and blooming open.

Under the gaze of Laffitte, who could no longer manage a smile, a pile of bones tumbled out.

Watching the crimson afterimage of Conrad using Soru once again, his precise vision told him something.

This guy seemed to have... grown a centimeter taller?