The projection screen flickered violently as Max continued advancing through the eleventh layer. The flas there were no longer rely oppressive but seed almost sovereign in nature, each strand of law pressing down with crushing authority.
The deeper he stepped, the more suffocating the atmosphere beca. Even the elders who had once walked the Path in their youth felt their chests tighten simply by watching.
Matthew Gris broke the heavy silence.
"Zain reached halfway into the eleventh layer, correct?" he said calmly, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "The ten thousand five hundred mile mark."
Victor Veron nodded slowly.
"Yes. He reached ten thousand five hundred miles before the pressure overwheld him. It was an extraordinary performance."
Henry Lumin folded his arms, his expression solemn.
"At that depth, the fla laws are no longer chaotic in the ordinary sense. They begin to form structured domains. Even maintaining one's footing there is extrely difficult."
Lilith Carol glanced briefly at the others before speaking.
"If Max intends to surpass Zain's record, he will need to withstand a far more refined intensity than what he faced at the boundary."
All eyes returned to the projection.
Max was moving carefully now. His steps were deliberate, each one slower than before. The eleventh layer was a different world compared to the tenth. The pressure pressed inward from all directions, not rely testing physical endurance but crushing at the level of will and comprehension.
"He is approaching ten thousand one hundred miles," Victor murmured.
A low ripple passed through the gathered disciples.
"Could he actually surpass Zain?"
"That would an he stands alone in this generation."
Matthew Gris remained thoughtful.
"It is not impossible," he said quietly. "He has already matched what we believed only Zain could accomplish."
Henry Lumin's gaze sharpened. "If he crosses ten thousand five hundred miles, then this trial will belong entirely to him."
Lilith Carol's lips curved faintly. "Then the balance between the families will tilt even further."
Garry Heron finally spoke, his voice cold and dismissive.
"You are all overestimating him."
The other family heads turned toward him.
"The eleventh layer is not the tenth," Garry continued. "Zain reached ten thousand five hundred miles through sheer will and strength. The pressure beyond that point is exponential. Max will not go much further."
His tone carried firm certainty.
"He may advance a little," Garry added, "but surpassing Zain's record is unlikely. The difference between entering the eleventh layer and conquering half of it is vast."
Victor Veron studied Garry's expression.
"You seem quite certain."
Garry's gaze remained fixed on the projection.
"I know how terrifying the pressure becos past the ten thousand three hundred mile mark," he said evenly. "Zain endured it because he possesses the Blazing Dragon Sovereign Body. What does Max has to counter the fla laws? Nothing. He has relied on strange thods thus far. That will not suffice here."
Matthew Gris did not respond imdiately. He simply watched Max's figure step forward once more.
Ten thousand two hundred miles.
The flas surged violently around him.
The tension among the elders tightened.
Would he slow?
Would he falter?
Or would he continue pushing toward the ten thousand five hundred mile mark that defined Zain's peak?
The entire Black Dragon Palace waited in breathless anticipation as Max pressed deeper into the eleventh layer.
As Max advanced through the early region of the eleventh layer, his movents remained deliberate, but his mind was not solely focused on the oppressive flas around him. A large portion of his awareness was turned inward, observing the changes within the Chaos Tree.
When he had stepped into the tenth layer, he had already sensed subtle shifts in the fla branch. Now, within the eleventh layer where the law energy was far denser and purer, those changes had beco impossible to ignore.
The first leaf that had given birth to a bud continued to pulse with ancient radiance, devouring the surrounding energy at an astonishing rate. However, Max noticed that the remaining four leaves were no longer passive. Their surfaces shimred faintly, and beneath their golden glow, a subtle swelling had begun to form.
He could clearly sense it.
These four leaves had nearly reached saturation.
The imnse amount of law energy they had absorbed throughout the lower layers had accumulated to a critical threshold. They were no longer rely storing comprehension. They were preparing to transform.
"It is only a matter of ti," Max murmured quietly as he stepped forward through the suffocating flas. "Another bud will erge."
The thought stirred both curiosity and anticipation within him.
He focused carefully on the original bud. It had grown slightly since its birth, though still compact and tightly closed. Its aura was calm and ancient, vastly different from the chaotic intensity of the flas surrounding him. It radiated a presence that reminded him of standing before the doors of his own dinsions. There was depth within it, sothing vast and imasurable.
"I wonder what this bud will grow into," Max whispered under his breath.
He was genuinely curious.
The bud was already devouring almost all the golden energy around him. In fact, it was absorbing so much that the chaotic fla laws in his vicinity weakened noticeably, allowing him to move more freely than should have been possible in the eleventh layer. The pressure still pressed upon his body, but the law resistance itself had diminished wherever he stood.
He could not help but wonder.
If this bud continued to absorb such imnse quantities of law energy, what would it ultimately beco? So much refined fla law energy was bound to condense into sothing extraordinary. It could not simply be a stronger leaf. It had to be sothing beyond a re concept.
Perhaps a true law.
Perhaps sothing even greater.
He did not know.
But instinct told him that whatever the bud transford into would not be ordinary. It would be sothing magical, sothing capable of reshaping his understanding of the Chaos Tree entirely.
As these thoughts moved through his mind, his steps did not stop.
Ten thousand one hundred miles.
The projection above the viewing platform flickered faintly as the number appeared.
A ripple passed through the watching crowd.
Max continued forward.
Ten thousand one hundred and fifty miles.
The flas roared louder, their pressure intensifying as he advanced deeper. The ground beneath his feet felt heavier, the air more suffocating. Yet he remained composed, his breathing steady.
Ten thousand two hundred miles.
He was closing in on the next milestone, and the eleventh layer had only just begun to reveal its true depth.
Inside him, the Chaos Tree pulsed softly.
Outside him, the inferno raged.
And Max continued walking.
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