Read Novel Full Chapter 1630 A Conflict?
Chapter 1630 A Conflict?
After the hidden plane fell silent and the boulder returned to its ancient, unmoving state, Max remained standing where he was for a long time. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, each inhalation carrying the lingering tremor of the countless impacts he had endured.
Blood still stained his palms, and his arms felt as though they had been struck by mountains again and again, yet none of that occupied his thoughts anymore. His entire focus had already shifted inward.
It was on the sword.
Max slowly lifted Dragonheart.
He did not rush into movement. Instead, he allowed the understanding he had gained to settle within him. Every slash he had blocked, every motion he had observed, every subtle transition in the shadowy figure's movements replayed clearly within his mind.
The complete sword art he had pieced together felt vivid, as though it had been etched directly into his bones rather than merely remembered.
Then he took a step forward.
His foot landed lightly, yet firmly.
His waist turned with controlled precision.
His shoulders aligned without stiffness.
Dragonheart descended in a single clean arc.
The blade cut through the air.
There was no explosion of golden light this time, no overwhelming pressure bearing down on the surroundings. However, the moment the sword moved, a faint change occurred in the air around him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but there was a sense that the space itself acknowledged the refinement of that motion.
Max did not stop there.
His first slash flowed into the next. The downward cut transitioned into a diagonal movement, and the diagonal naturally shifted into a horizontal line. That horizontal line carried within it a hidden continuation, a point where it could transform into a thrust without breaking its rhythm.
The sequence unfolded smoothly.
It was continuous.
It was complete.
Max slowly came to a stop.
But with a faint frown appeared on his face.
Because he sensed something was wrong with the sword art. He couldn't put his mind on where but he definitely felt like the sword art was resisting to him.
He lowered Dragonheart slightly and closed his eyes. His consciousness turned inward as he began to feel the sword once more, not through sight, but through perception.
He traced every movement he had just executed, examining the flow between actions, the way force gathered and released, and the invisible rhythm connecting one strike to the next.
"Is that the Saint Origin Sword Art?" Max muttered quietly.
The name rose naturally in his mind.
It carried a sense of origin, of something fundamental and complete. The sword art he had learned did not rely on complexity or overwhelming power. Instead, it emphasized simplicity taken to its absolute limit, where every motion existed only because it was necessary and every transition was part of a greater whole.
His sword moves…
Max's brows slowly drew together.
They were correct.
Yet they did not feel right.
He opened his eyes and raised Dragonheart again. This time, he infused his Concept of Severing Sword into the movement. The familiar sharpness emerged at once, carrying the will to divide, to cut apart, to bring everything to a definitive end.
The moment the concept merged with the sword art, something subtle shifted.
The flow was no longer seamless.
It did not break outright, but it faltered slightly at certain points. The transitions lost a fraction of their natural continuity, as though an external force had been introduced into a perfectly balanced system.
Max stopped mid-motion.
He remained still, his eyes deep in thought.
"My concept of severing sword is conflicting with the sword art," he murmured under his breath.
He raised the sword again and began repeating the sequence, this time slowing each movement deliberately. He paid attention to how the sword art guided his body. It emphasized continuity. Every action flowed into the next without interruption, forming an unbroken chain of motion.
Then he infused his Severing Sword Concept again.
The same result appeared.
The sword art sought flow. It was a continuous sword art that didn't have an end.
The concept sought conclusion. It meant to be used a strike to end things.
The sword art moved like an endless stream, where no motion truly ended because it simply became the beginning of the next.
The concept moved like a final cut, where everything before it led toward a decisive end.
Because of this, a conflict between them occurred when he used them at the same time.
Max exhaled slowly as his grip on Dragonheart tightened slightly.
"It is as though they were not made for each other."
His thoughts deepened as he stood there in silence.
The Saint Origin Sword Art represented a path of continuity, a complete cycle where every strike was both an end and a beginning at the same time. It did not emphasize destruction. It did not emphasize domination. It emphasized the pure expression of sword, where nothing was wasted and nothing was unnecessary.
His Severing Sword Concept was fundamentally different.
It was built on severance.
It existed to divide, to sever, to bring things to a definitive end.
Max closed his eyes once more, allowing both understandings to exist side by side within his mind. He replayed the movements of the shadowy figure again, observing that perfect continuity, that seamless rhythm, that absence of any excess force. Then he compared it to his own sword, sharp and decisive, filled with the will to end everything it touched.
A faint realization began to take shape.
"This is not a flaw," Max whispered softly. "It's like my concept is following a different path than the sword path."
His Severing Sword Concept had its own path.
The Saint Origin Sword Art had its own path.
At this moment, they had not yet become one.
Max slowly opened his eyes, and the confusion within them began to settle into clarity. The conflict he felt was not a sign of failure. It was a sign that his understanding had deepened enough to perceive the difference between two complete yet incompatible principles.
He raised Dragonheart once more.
This time, he did not force the fusion.
He executed the sword art as it was, allowing its natural flow to guide his body. Then, in the next movement, he infused a trace of his Severing Sword Concept. The same slight disruption appeared, but Max did not stop.
Instead, his gaze sharpened.
"If they do not align… then I will make them align."
Max's voice was calm, yet carried an unyielding determination.
Before he could explore this realization any further, the space around him twisted. A familiar force wrapped around his body and pulled him away. In the next instant, the mountain vanished, and Max found himself standing once again in the arena where he had fought the hundred puppets.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed through the space.
[Test of the Sword Art begins]
The surroundings shifted once more.
The arena dissolved, replaced by an even more imposing scene. Max now stood before a colossal mountain that stretched endlessly in all directions. Its size was overwhelming, and even with his Dimensional Sovereign Body, he could not perceive its limits.
Another voice followed.
[According to how much damage you do to the mountain, your score for the Weapon Trial will be decided.]
Max listened carefully before giving a small nod.
"I see," he said quietly.
His grip on the sword tightened slightly as his eyes grew focused.
"That means I can only rely on the Saint Origin Sword Art."