SSS-Rank 10x Reward System: Accepting Disciples to Live Forever Chapter 122 - 9,999 Intelligence

Wang Chen’s eyes widened—just slightly—and for the first ti in countless years, a genuine trace of relief washed over his expression. His shoulders loosened, tension bleeding away as if a mountain had been lifted from his spine.

A study- and knowledge-oriented class.

Not brute force.

Not blind slaughter.

But comprehension, analysis, and insight.

Exactly what he needed.

"Finally..." he whispered hoarsely, the words escaping before he could stop them.

"...sothing in my favor. All hope isn’t lost yet."

The frozen air rippled.

A familiar presence erged beside him, graceful and silent, like mist coalescing into form. Mo Huyan stepped into existence, her dark robes fluttering faintly despite the absence of wind. Her eyes curved with quiet amusent as she studied his rare display of emotion.

"Little cultivator," she said lightly, her voice carrying an uncharacteristic warmth,

"why are you smiling?"

She tilted her head, observing him with interest.

"I’ve never seen you this happy in centuries."

Wang Chen didn’t imdiately respond.

Sowhere along the endless years, the frost between them had softened. Not vanished—but thinned. Especially after her silent assistance during his most desperate tribulations, after she had stood watch while he wrestled with impossible truths.

For once, he allowed himself to breathe.

For once—

The heavens had not closed the door completely.

Her tone, though still carrying its familiar mischief, no longer held any trace of hostility.

"It’s nothing important," Wang Chen replied curtly, deliberately dulling his voice to conceal the surge of excitent beating beneath his calm exterior.

Mo Huyan did not respond imdiately.

She studied him in silence, her gaze lingering longer than usual. By now, she knew him too well. The man before her, who normally resembled a machine carved from ice and logic, was different now. His posture was unchanged, his expression restrained—but sothing flickered behind his eyes.

Hope.

A dangerous thing.

Wang Chen offered no further explanation. He had already turned inward, his attention fully imrsed in testing the capabilities of his new class.

The Scholar.

It lacked brute force. Lacked overwhelming killing power. In direct combat, it was laughably inferior compared to the Holy Knight or other combat-oriented classes he had worn before.

But it offered him sothing far more valuable.

Understanding.

Analysis.

Control.

With the Scholar’s knowledge-centric abilities reinforcing his already terrifying intellect, even the chaotic systems of the tower began to unravel before him. Against low-level resentful ghosts, progression beca effortless. Every engagent was no longer a battle—it was an experint.

All he needed was mana.

Ti.

And persistence.

And those were things Wang Chen possessed in excess.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

The barren wasteland echoed ceaselessly with shrill cries as resentful ghosts were erased one by one. Their howls faded into nothingness, swallowed by the cold silence of the first floor.

Mo Huyan drifted behind him, her presence like a quiet shadow. She did not interfere. She did not comnt. She simply watched.

"...He’s really doing it," she murmured softly at one point, her lips curling faintly.

"Growing stronger through nothing but persistence."

There was amusent in her eyes—but also sothing deeper. Sothing complicated.

Eventually, only a few hundred resentful ghosts remained.

Then—

Wang Chen stopped.

The violent fluctuations of mana around him settled. His aura stabilized, condensing inward with terrifying precision. The air itself seed to grow still, as if awaiting judgnt.

A notification echoed.

The Scholar had reached its peak.

---

[Class: Scholar — Rare Grade]

Level: 100

Experience: MAX

Primary Resources

HP: 12,800 / 12,800

Mana: 120,000 / 120,000

ntal Focus: 50,000 / 50,000

Core Attributes

Strength: 180

Agility: 220

Vitality: 260

Intelligence: 9,999

Wisdom: 9,450

Perception: 7,800

Luck: 1,200

Secondary Stats

Spell Efficiency: 85%

Analysis Speed: 3,000%

mory Capacity: Infinite

Casting Interruption: −90%

Passive Skills

Absolute Comprehension (MAX): Instantly understand any system, skill, or phenonon below Divine Tier.

Cognitive Supremacy (MAX): Intelligence-based effects cannot be resisted by lower-level beings.

Perfect Recall (MAX): Knowledge, skills, and experiences are never forgotten.

Logical Immunity (Lv. 8): Immune to illusion, deceit, and ntal corruption.

Active Skills

Omni-Analysis (MAX): Reveals full status, weaknesses, and hidden chanics.

Conceptual Rewrite (Lv. 7): Temporarily alters the rules of a target skill or law.

Instant Deduction (MAX): Predicts enemy actions up to three moves ahead.

Thesis of Destruction (Lv. 6): Converts accumulated knowledge into raw destructive force.

---

This was no longer a class

It was a weapon aid directly at the laws of the world.

For the first ti since entering the Tower of Infinite Enlightennt, Wang Chen’s ntal attributes shattered their theoretical ceiling.

Intelligence: 9,999.

He stared at the number in silence.

A dull, oppressive pressure pulsed behind his temples, as if his skull were struggling to contain the sheer volu of thoughts surging through his mind. Ideas layered upon ideas, concepts folding into one another with frightening clarity. Every law he had touched, every theory he had pondered across three centuries, aligned themselves effortlessly—like stars snapping into a perfect constellation.

"Damn..." he muttered under his breath.

"Just how intelligent am I now? I might actually be the smartest being alive."

Yet there was no arrogance in his eyes.

Only focus.

The exhilaration did not co from the number itself, but from what it represented.

Possibility.

With this level of comprehension, the fog that had once obscured the Fourth Level of the Thief Supre’s Legacy finally began to thin. The countless fragnts of laws, spiritual chanics, causal threads, and conceptual loopholes he had accumulated over three hundred years no longer clashed or contradicted one another.

They danced.

Naturally.

Effortlessly.

Like pieces of a puzzle that had always been waiting for this mont to connect.

From the side, Mo Huyan’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly as she observed him. The invisible flow of qi around Wang Chen stirred her robes, lifting strands of her dark hair so they cascaded behind her like drifting starlight.

For the first ti in centuries, her expression carried unmistakable gravity.

"You’ve achieved what you wanted, haven’t you?" she asked softly.

Wang Chen gave a faint nod.

He did not look at her. His attention had already turned inward—toward a place far deeper than his spiritual sea.

In that instant, a blinding brilliance erupted within his internal world. Not light in the conventional sense, but sothing more fundantal—an overwhelming surge of clarity, as if reality itself were unraveling, its seams exposed to his perception.

The laws trembled.

Concepts bent.

Even causality hesitated.

Finally—

Under the legacy of the Thief Supre,

after centuries of obsession, failure, and relentless contemplation—

Wang Chen took the final step beyond mortal understanding.

He reached upward.

Not toward destiny.

Not toward fate.

But sothing even beyond Heaven itself.