The Omnipotent System

"So, there's someone out there strong enough to trigger a 'Quadraflux Ascension,'" a man mused as he hovered in the open air of the Divine Plane, unseen by its inhabitants.

His mere presence in this realm caused the space around him to crack and splinter, as if reality itself was struggling to hold together. The Divine Plane's will tirelessly worked to repair the rifts that formed, mending the fabric of space over and over. However, the strain was becoming evident, as if the very plane was growing weary from the effort.

The man watched with a calm, almost indifferent expression, aware of the chaos his existence was causing, yet completely unaffected by it. He was a being of immense power, far beyond what the Divine Plane was accustomed to, and his presence alone was enough to destabilize this sacred realm.

But he remained still, as if deep in thought, pondering the significance of the powerful event he had sensed from afar.

"So, even here, in the vastness of the Divine Plane, there are forces at play that could challenge the balance of power," he murmured to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it carried a weight that seemed to press down on the very air around him. "But they are going to serve one purpose which is the resurrection of my beloved."

Primordial Chaos Sect

Inara glanced toward the valley, her brow furrowed with curiosity. "I thought that was your valley," she said, turning to Adams with a puzzled expression. "Who else could be living there besides you and us, your wives?"

Adams, who had been watching the spectacle in the valley with a pleased smile, turned to face her. There was a glint of pride in his eyes as he responded. "Those, my dear, are my personal disciples," he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "They're incredibly talented individuals, as you can clearly see."

"More like monsters," Akira muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief. Her wide, shocked eyes fixed on Adams. "In fact, all the disciples in your sect are monsters."

Adams raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her reaction. "Monsters?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his tone.

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Akira nodded vigorously. "Yes, monsters! From the moment you took us around the sect, I've been hearing the disciples whispering. They're saying that ever since they joined this sect, their cultivation speed has skyrocketed. It's like they're advancing by leaps and bounds, faster than anything they ever imagined."

She paused, her thoughts racing as she recalled the conversations she overheard. "But that's not all," she continued, her voice growing more intense. "They also talked about their comprehension. They're grasping complex techniques and concepts in record time, things that should take years to master. It's like being here is accelerating their growth in ways that defy logic."

Inara, who had been listening quietly, now looked at Adams with renewed interest. "I've noticed that too," she said thoughtfully. "The aura around this sect, it's different. It feels… potent. Almost as if the very air is infused with something that enhances cultivation."

Akira quickly jumped back in, eager to share more of what she had learned. "And then there are the cultivation manuals and techniques they've been given. The disciples said they've been handed top-tier manuals—ones that they can't even begin to rank because they're so advanced.

But what they do know is that after cultivating with them, they've all awakened top-tier bloodlines, physiques, and magic roots."

She shook her head, still trying to wrap her mind around it. "They're not just becoming stronger; they're evolving into something far beyond what they were before. It's like they've been reborn as powerhouses with potential that could shake the very foundations of the world."

Adams listened to Akira's words with a knowing smile, his eyes gleaming with pride. "That's the essence of the Primordial Sect," he said, his voice calm yet filled with conviction. "It's not just a place for cultivating power; it's a crucible for transformation. Here, every disciple is given the resources and guidance to unlock their true potential.

The manuals, the techniques, the environment—they're all designed to push them to their limits and beyond."

He glanced at Inara and Akira, his gaze steady. "Monsters, you say? Perhaps. But they're monsters with purpose. They're being forged into something extraordinary, something that the world has never seen before. And this is only the beginning of their journey."

"Bold words for a young man like yourself," the middle-aged man said, his tone dripping with skepticism. He stood beside the elderly, white-haired man, his expression filled with a mix of arrogance and curiosity. "I wonder how you plan to back up such claims when the powerful sects of the Divine Plane hear of your boasts."

Adams slowly turned to face the man who had spoken, his expression unreadable. When his eyes met the man's, he didn't respond with anger or indignation. Instead, he merely shook his head, a look of mild disappointment crossing his features. Without uttering a word, Adams then looked up at the sky, letting out a soft sigh as if the man's challenge wasn't even worth acknowledging.

The woman standing not far from the two men watched this exchange closely, her eyes narrowing at the middle-aged man. To her, his words were more than just foolish—they were suicidal. "Is he courting death?" she thought, barely managing to suppress a grimace.

[Does he not know how to read the atmosphere or even study his surroundings?] The thought echoed in her mind, filled with disbelief at his ignorance.

Her gaze shifted from the man to Adams, and then to the disciples scattered around the sect. Even from her distance, she could see the way they looked at Adams—with reverence, respect, and something bordering on worship. Their eyes followed his every movement, their posture indicating a readiness to bow at his feet should he so much as lift a finger.

It was clear that within the Primordial Sect, Adams wasn't just a leader; he was a figure of almost divine authority. The power and respect he commanded were palpable, and only a fool would fail to notice it. Yet, here was this middle-aged man, obliviously challenging someone who was evidently on a completely different level.

The woman's thoughts churned as she considered the gravity of the situation. "Does he not realize that the disciples are looking at him as though he's a god among men?" she thought, shaking her head slightly. "To speak so recklessly in this place… it's like provoking a sleeping dragon. And that dragon is already wide awake, watching him with eyes that see far more than he can comprehend."

Adams, still gazing at the sky, seemed almost detached from the conversation. But the woman could sense the quiet power that radiated from him, a force that was as vast and unfathomable as the heavens above, even more than the heaven itself. Something she has experienced before and that from his subordinate.

She couldn't help but wonder what would happen next, whether the middle-aged man would be humbled or if Adams would simply dismiss him as unworthy of further attention.

Either way, she knew one thing for certain: the man's words had only served to confirm the gap between Adams and those who sought to challenge him. In this place, in the heart of his sect, Adams wasn't just a sect master—he was a force of nature, and anyone who underestimated him did so at their own peril.

"And from the looks of things, you've got some nerve harboring a monster from the Forbidden Forest," the white-haired man continued, his voice dripping with disdain as he stroked his beard thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed as he regarded Adams with a mix of arrogance and curiosity. "You're bold, young man, I'll give you that.

But I can't help but wonder how your sect master would react to knowing that his underlings—or whatever you are—are so reckless. One thing is certain though: your sect is doomed."

The words hung in the air like a curse, filled with a venomous certainty that sent a ripple of tension through the nearby disciples. Among them, one disciple in particular felt his blood boil with rage.

His fists clenched tightly at his sides as he took a step forward, his eyes blazing with the intent to strike down the insolent elder who dared to speak so disrespectfully of their sect and their master.

But before he could even lift a hand, the disciple found himself frozen in place, as if an invisible force had locked his muscles in place. Confused and frustrated, he glanced up, only to meet the calm, steady gaze of Adams. The sect master's eyes held no anger, only a quiet, almost paternal disapproval.

Adams simply shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips as if to say, "let me handle this, it has been long since I stretched this bones and I think it is now high time they know my name, Adams Albert."