Invincibility Begins with Mastery of Fist Techniques

Chapter 412 - 405: Divine Miracle

"He is light, just as I’d seen."

Kekao’s voice slowly faded. With a wave of his arm, the entire Brahma World seemed to return to its genesis, to the moment it was first carved from a chaotic space of consciousness. From that fissure, an incredibly dazzling light radiated.

At the dawn of creation, the very first thing to exist in the world was light.

So, light will inevitably pierce the darkness.

Beneath Kekao’s grotesque form lay a brilliance ordinary people could scarcely imagine.

Genesis. First Light.

In the physical world, Kekao’s abilities—his body, substance, explosive power, and attacks—weren’t considered top-tier. But when it came to mastery of consciousness and the mind, to control over magnetic fields, few in the entire world could match him.

This was Power gained by sacrificing his physical body and enduring endless suffering. Like the Chief Commissioner, he had obtained Power from this suffering that ordinary people could never imagine.

BOOM!!

The nightmarish gray fog and the primordial light of creation collided violently. It was as if two separate worlds had formed within a single Divine Kingdom.

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「Nanda Devi Mountain, Mid-slope.」

This was a camp for practitioners from Bosha Country. Simple tents stood on the mountainside, buffeted by the cold wind and white snow.

Just then, a group of unexpected visitors arrived, led by a local guide.

Charlson, a citizen of the Riyao Empire from the Hiloba Region, was a director for the documentary channel of the world-renowned British Broadcasting Corporation—the BBC.

With the recent appearance of the Celestial Demon, the existence of powerful individuals was becoming common knowledge. Life, technology, and Cultivation were now topics of intense focus for every nation.

The BBC was capitalizing on this trend, preparing to investigate and interview figures from the mysterious Cultivation worlds of various nations to produce a comprehensive documentary.

As the documentary’s director, Charlson was well aware of the impact it would have upon its release.

Their purpose on this trip was to get on-site footage of the most authentic practitioner camps in Bosha Country.

"Is this the Holy Land of the Bosha Country practitioners?"

Rachel, a young female journalist accompanying him, curiously surveyed the camp.

Inside one dilapidated tent after another, she saw practitioners clad in filthy, tattered rags. They were emaciated and gaunt, their faces etched with suffering.

Their bodies were covered in gruesome scars, and they held themselves in bizarre postures, creating an unsettling sight.

"That’s right. This is the Holy Land for the practitioners of Bosha Country. Legend has it that at the peak of this mountain, there’s a palace called Brahma Hall. It’s the Cultivation site of the God of the Bosha practitioners. Everyone gathered here is a follower of that God."

Charlson whispered to the journalist.

"This is the second-highest peak in the Himalayas, with an elevation of over seven thousand meters. What kind of person could survive in that environment? An S Class powerhouse?"

A member of the team said, incredulous.

"No. According to the legend, this Venerable is completely powerless—he doesn’t even have the strength to tie up a chicken. In his youth, for the sake of his practice, he blinded his own eyes, gouged out his nose, cut out his tongue, ruptured his eardrums, and severed his own spinal cord, all in pursuit of the highest state of asceticism."

Charlson said. He had clearly done his research before coming to Nanda Devi Mountain.

"That... How could anyone still be alive after doing all that? And to practice alone in the bitter cold at an elevation of over seven thousand meters... That’s not a person, that’s a God. It defies all common sense. It has to be just a legend, right?"

the female journalist remarked with a sigh.

The others nodded in agreement. At that point, what was the difference between him and someone in a vegetative state? It completely defied their sense of logic.

The power of an S Class, while completely beyond their comprehension, at least felt like it still fell within the realm of possibility.

"The Venerable truly exists. If you’re fortunate enough, you might witness a true divine miracle."

The dark-skinned guide from Bosha Country said.

"You’ve seen a real divine miracle? Could you describe it for us?"

Charlson asked the guide curiously.

"My job was only to bring you here and to handle any translating you might need. The rest is outside the scope of my duties."

"If you need a translator, let me know."

The guide said flatly, then left Charlson and the others. He walked to one side and, facing the summit, prostrated himself fully on the ground in pious worship. He began to mutter, seemingly lost in some kind of prayer.

’Looks like our conversation offended him...’

Charlson and the others exchanged a helpless glance.

"Director, do you think this kind of self-mortification actually works?"

The female journalist asked Charlson.

"Compared to this kind of self-flagellation rooted in ancient religious ideals, I put more faith in science..."

"However, what we believe is unimportant. As documentary filmmakers, our only job is to remain as objective as possible and allow the facts to speak for themselves in the footage we capture. Right and wrong are for the viewers to decide. That is our fundamental professional duty—not to inject our own opinions and obscure the truth."

Charlson said, turning to address his entire crew.

He was a practical man. He loved fame and fortune, beautiful women and fine wine. But there were some things he wouldn’t give up for any of that.

He felt he wasn’t like his utterly shameless colleagues.

After his lecture, Charlson fell silent for a moment. He looked up at the desolate, snow-shrouded summit and suddenly said, "Scrap the shooting schedule. You can all head back. I want to stay here for a few days."

"Are you insane, Director?! There are no comfortable hotels or warm fireplaces here! It’s minus twenty-three degrees!!"

The crew members all thought their director had lost his mind.

"I want to stay and see if there really is a divine miracle."

Charlson said.

Everyone shook their heads. They thought Charlson had well and truly lost it, to actually believe the ravings of these fanatics.

"Alright, everyone get ready. Start filming and conducting interviews. And watch what you say."

Charlson said.

The crew assented and quickly began setting up their equipment.

As Charlson adjusted his camera, he found himself unconsciously aiming the lens toward the summit.

It seemed to hold endless mysteries.

Just as he was about to turn the camera away, a dazzling light abruptly blossomed in the void above the summit. It was like the very first ray of light born from the void between heaven and earth.

HUMMM!!

An indescribable tremor and a sense of shock washed over everyone on Nanda Devi Mountain.

The film crew, the guide praying on the ground, and the practitioners in their tents all looked up at the sky over the summit.

A ray of light blossomed across the sky. As it pulsed, the void itself seemed to tear open, revealing another world.

Two figures occupied that world. One was like a hazy nightmare, an endless gray fog seeping from his body as if to devour all the good in the world.

The other was a four-faced, eight-armed Divine Spirit standing atop a massive, beautiful peacock, radiating endless light.

The sky was completely filled with the apocalyptic scene, like a God battling a Demon.

So real. So magnificent.

Charlson stared, dumbfounded, at the scene.

He knew this was a divine miracle.