The gulf between the Innate Realm and the Grandmaster Realm was vast.
But the leap from Grandmaster to Great Grandmaster? That was something else entirely.
Even with resources, even with training, one could be guided into the Innate Realm.
A monastery as powerful as the Sanctum of the Eternal Flame could, if it chose, forge a few Innate martial artists using sacred herbs, elite teachings, and years of investment.
But these efforts produced nothing lasting.
True influence, the kind that shaped nations and changed eras, came not from more Innates…
…but from a single Grandmaster.
Or more rarely—
A Great Grandmaster.
---
Unlike the lower stages, neither money, knowledge, nor force could manufacture a Grandmaster.
Let alone a Great Grandmaster, who had to master not just body and energy—but spiritual power.
And that's what made today's events in the Sanctum so earth-shattering.
When the abbot and the masters sensed the wave of psychic energy emerging from the Sutra Vault, and realized it came from Aeron Vale…
They were shaken to their core.
Because Great Grandmasters weren't just rare.
They were nearly extinct.
---
The last known Great Grandmaster in the world had been Emperor Kael Dalenhart, the founder of the Dalenhart Empire—one hundred and eighty years ago.
And even then, he had already been a Grandmaster for decades before ascending.
The normal path? Train for half a lifetime. Touch the Grandmaster realm by forty. Maybe, if blessed, rise to the Great Grandmaster stage before death.
But Aeron Vale?
Eight years old.
Impossible. Unimaginable. Beyond all comprehension.
---
In a distant chamber behind the Sanctum, Grandmaster Morrow, now in silent retreat, opened his eyes.
His senses had been stirred by the energy from the Sutra Vault.
"Psychic power...?"
His expression wavered—rare for a man who hadn't been surprised in years.
"Has Aeron… truly crossed into the Great Grandmaster realm?"
He whispered to himself, stunned.
Even with all he knew of the boy's talent—even with his own expectations—he'd thought decades would pass before Aeron touched that realm.
But it had only been five years.
He, a Grandmaster, knew more clearly than anyone the distance between mastery of body and mastery of soul.
He had walked the edge of that cliff himself—and never dared leap.
And now, Aeron had soared across it.
---
Inside the Sutra Vault, Aeron remained seated, eyes closed, spiritual energy settling within his bones.
"So this is soul power."
His senses felt like they'd expanded beyond the walls, into the stars, into the very breath of the world.
He examined this power with analytical focus.
In the Universal Human Alliance, there existed spiritual-type evolvers—those who awakened the mind-based path through advanced methods. They could manipulate illusion, bend perception, and create dreamlike battlefields.
But this?
This was different.
Their power was more subtle, often frail in physical form.
The power of a Great Grandmaster, however, was sharp, heavy, and crushing.
A pressure that could stop a weaker opponent's heart with a glance.
Moreover, unlike spiritual evolvers, a Great Grandmaster's physical body remained superior—every muscle honed, every ounce of energy refined.
"Perhaps Martial Dao is, in truth, an undiscovered evolution path," Aeron mused.
If he could fully systemize Martial Dao and present it to the Goddess of Wisdom back in his home universe, it might qualify as a new evolutionary framework.
And with that, he could gain a massive reward.
---
A pulse of awareness tugged at him.
They're outside.
The abbot. The masters. His former mentor. All waiting.
No doubt shaken by the shockwave of his breakthrough.
He opened his eyes.
"You may enter."
---
Outside the vault, the tension was thick.
Abbot Ravel, the masters of each hall, and even Grandmaster Morrow himself stood solemnly before the towering entrance.
Despite their lofty positions, despite decades of cultivation—they were nervous.
Like children waiting to speak with a god.
When Aeron's voice echoed into the courtyard—calm, distant, filled with spiritual resonance—they bowed instinctively.
---
The elders entered the third floor of the vault, where Aeron sat in quiet meditation.
They approached reverently, their steps slow.
Then, in unison, they lowered themselves to their knees.
"We greet the Living Buddha."
---
It was not a title offered lightly.
In monastery lore, there had long been prophecy of a reincarnated sage, a prodigy who would embody both the path of martial cultivation and spiritual enlightenment.
To the elders—there could be no other explanation for what Aeron had become.
He had become the youngest Innate cultivator in history.
He had reached the Grandmaster realm while still a child.
And now, at eight years old, he had achieved something most could not in eight lifetimes.
He had become a Great Grandmaster.
Only one title fit such a being:
Living Buddha.
---
Aeron merely smiled, neither confirming nor denying the name.
He knew what they needed. What they hoped for.
He said nothing.
Because silence—at the right time—was power.
---
Later, seated with the abbot and the masters, Aeron spoke in calm tones.
He shared his own experience—how he crossed from Innate to Grandmaster.
Not through mysticism, but with clear, logical process.
He outlined the true control required over inner force.
How to feel each grain of strength.
How to anchor energy in motion, not just in stillness.
He gave specifics—something no one else had ever done.
---
The room went quiet.
Several elders blinked, eyes damp.
This wasn't just insight.
It was a revelation.
Most of them had access to scrolls, scriptures, and tales about the Grandmaster realm—but none had ever understood the "how".
And now, here he was.
An eight-year-old child, spelling it out with divine clarity.
---
With a few gentle words, Aeron showed them a path.
A path to mastery.
To transcendence.
Hope returned to eyes that had nearly given up.
---
In that moment, the elders knew:
It didn't matter whether Aeron truly was a reincarnated Buddha.
He had done what only a Buddha could.
---
If anyone dared question the title now…
It would not be Aeron who rose to defend it.
It would be the Sanctum itself.
---
(End of Chapter 6)