Empowerment Ritual

"The shortest was Saint Ichi," Anubis said. "Each Empowerment Ritual can only last twenty minutes. But to him, it felt like twenty years had passed."

"Hahahaha!" Miming burst out laughing. So someone had been at the bottom, which was why the Twelve Gods had all been so surprised they could endure for so long? "Wait, each time? There was more than one?"

Anubis nodded. "Saint Ichi has undergone one hundred and thirty-three Empowerment Rituals so far. Each one lasted twenty minutes. He said it hurt far too much."

"Wahahahaha!" Miming laughed until his whole body hurt. "Then was he weak?"

"No, he was very strong," Anubis said gravely. "You could say he was the strongest Gorosei in history."

Miming's laughter stopped abruptly.

To unconditionally obey a ritual that damaged one's life, and to hold it for the same person over a hundred times—one could imagine the loyalty behind it. The Twelve Gods undoubtedly held Saint Ichi in the highest regard, which was why they carried out his orders without question.

"When Saint Sanming can stand, he can go home." Anubis's body once again turned into a mass of black spiritual wind. "After that, Saint Sanming must train desperately and let his body absorb that power as quickly as possible. Then come find me again."

"About how long will that take?"

"Perhaps a month. Perhaps several years." Anubis's voice became distant and ethereal before drifting away.

Miming lay on the ground for another full day and night, but he was not bored.

Though his body was bare, he did not feel cold or hungry, because every cell was filled with enormous energy. The sensations constantly flowing from within were so novel that Miming immersed himself in sensing every change inside his body. Perception at the cellular level did not rely on nerves, but on the mind to sense and convey it.

"Absorb it. Absorb all of it." Miming tried his best to command his body. At first, perhaps it was one cell at a time, then patches of cells. Inside him, it was as lively as lights being lit one after another.

When the pain vanished, Miming stood up and discovered that he had grown an inch taller and become much sturdier. But that was merely the surface. The true difference lay within him. His energy-filled body was like a dazzling city plaza lit up everywhere, every cell glowing.

"So hot!" Miming said to Cairns, whose mouth was hanging open beside him. "Give me my clothes."

"O-okay!" Cairns held the new clothes that had been prepared long ago. He had only waited here for half an hour before seeing Saint Jalmack's Son crawl to his feet. Yet Anubis had clearly told him that he could go back and return in two days, and that he should wait at least three days!

But only one day had passed!

"Hot—!" Miming ordered Cairns. "Go back first. I'm going for a run."

"No, Saint Sanming. This subordinate must follow you in case anything happens." Cairns's eyes were filled with awe. He could sense that Saint Sanming had changed completely inside, like a furnace undergoing earth-shaking transformation.

What he did not know was that Anubis was also watching Miming in shock from afar. What was going on? The faster he got up, the higher the conversion rate would be! And only someone who had mastered Life Return could actively absorb the bestowed energy and rise so quickly.

"Saint Jalmack's Son." A bead of sweat formed at the tip of Anubis's nose beneath his mask. "What astonishing talent! Could this be what a true Celestial Dragon is?"

After eight hundred years, even the descendants of kings often no longer possessed pure bloodlines. Only a small number of Celestial Dragons were born from unions between royal bloodlines and still retained pure lineage. The Gorosei families were such beings.

Miming had no idea how much wariness he had inspired in the Twelve Gods. After getting dressed, he stretched his legs and ran outside.

His speed had not changed much, but what was this feeling of not knowing fatigue?

Miming ran all the way toward the outskirts of the Holy Land. Fortunately, Cairns was with him. At Pangaea Castle's gates and the Holy Land checkpoints leading outside, Cairns had to explain things to the guards, because Miming's appearance had changed slightly. A Celestial Dragon traveling without a large entourage of agents and slaves simply did not look like a Celestial Dragon, did he?

Miming kept running outward. He constantly felt a ball of fire inside him, as though he could not extinguish it unless he ran with all his might.

The guards along the way all stared wide-eyed. Was this the frail young master of the Bird Family? Not only was he running out by himself, but he had grown so much taller after only a few days?

After leaving Pangaea Castle, he ran and ran. After sprinting two hundred kilometers, the sea came into view. Beneath the eight-thousand-meter cliff of the Red Line lay the Grand Line. If one kept diving beneath the sea, one would reach the Fish-Man Kingdom.

Miming ran all the way here, stood atop the eight-thousand-meter Red Line, gazed out at the sea, and let out a wild roar.

Only then did the scorching heat inside him gradually fade.

The damp sea breeze could not cross Holy Land Mary Geoise, nor could even the clouds. Looking down from the cliff's edge, there was only a sea of clouds beneath his feet.

Miming remembered the plot from the story he had known in his previous life. Three years later, after Fisher Tiger escaped from Holy Land Mary Geoise and returned to the Fish-Man Kingdom, he had climbed the eight-thousand-meter Red Line from here, set fires throughout Mary Geoise, and used the chaos to free thousands of slaves of every race from the Holy Land.

Although one-tenth of those slaves died while fleeing, ninety percent gained their freedom.

Never mind how he had done it—merely looking down at this eight-thousand-meter cliff made Miming's blood boil!

"What an incredible feat, Saint Sanming!" Cairns appeared behind him with a fawning expression.

"It's not enough!" Miming knew that the Twelve Gods had expended so much power merely to give him a better physical foundation. What came next depended on his own effort.

"Cairns, lead the way. We're going to the sea!"

"Yes, Saint Sanming! Then we'll take the western route."

Cairns's towering body moved as swiftly as an arrow when he ran, while his footsteps were as light as feathers, leaving not even a trace on the ground.

Miming knew it was because he was running too slowly. Cairns did not need to exert himself at all.

From the east, south, west, and north of Mary Geoise, there were roads leading to the Four Blues. An eight-thousand-meter drop was no joke. The winding mountain roads stretched for more than a thousand kilometers and were guarded by layers of troops. Several scenic villages lay along the way, and dozens of palaces had been built for Celestial Dragons to stop and rest.

At that moment, everyone along the route watched Miming gasp for breath as he ran all the way down toward the sea as if they had seen a ghost. If a CP0 agent had not been clearing the way ahead and notifying every checkpoint and unit to make way, who would have believed that a Celestial Dragon, one of the World Nobles, would run down the Red Line on his own two legs?