Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100

Chapter 1484  Rushing Through the Combat Tower!

From this encounter, Max quickly understood the pattern of the Combat Tower. The enemies ahead would not be random illusions or simple projections. They were fragments of real warriors who had once challenged the tower and left behind part of their existence.

Each fragment carried the battle experience and techniques of its original owner, even if their cultivation was suppressed to match the floorʼs requirement. That realization did not intimidate him. Instead, it sharpened his focus.

Without pause, Max ascended to the thirty second floor, then the thirty third, and continued upward. On each floor, a new opponent awaited him. Their cultivations began at the fifth level of the Rebirth Realm but gradually rose as he climbed.

By the time he reached the fortieth floor, his opponents were at the sixth level. Their techniques grew more profound, their control over laws more mature, and their combat instincts sharper. Some specialized in blade arts that split the air with terrifying precision, others wielded destructive elemental abilities that shook the arena.

Yet Max dismantled them one after another with unwavering composure. Sometimes he relied on overwhelming physical strength, sometimes on precise law suppression, and occasionally on subtle dimensional manipulation. Each battle ended swiftly.

As he advanced past the fiftieth and sixtieth floors, the strength of his opponents rose to the seventh and then the eighth level of the Rebirth Realm. The pressure in the tower intensified with each ascent.

The arenas themselves seemed to respond to the rising difficulty, becoming larger and more complex, filled with terrains that favored different combat styles. Still, Max did not slow down. His aura remained steady, his breathing even. He adapted effortlessly, crushing sword masters, spear wielders, elemental experts, and body refinement cultivators alike.

Every opponent fought with the pride of a true warrior, yet none could halt his advance.

When he crossed into the seventieth and eightieth floors, the enemies standing before him had reached the ninth level of the Rebirth Realm. Their presence was imposing, their law comprehension bordering on the threshold of the next great realm.

Each of them represented a peak existence within Rebirth Realm. The battles became more intense, the clashes of energy more violent, and the shockwaves more devastating. However, even against such opponents, Max displayed no hesitation.

His combat power far surpassed his displayed cultivation. He suppressed them with overwhelming force, broke through their techniques with precise counters, and shattered their defenses without mercy.

Floor after floor, his victories accumulated. There was no rest, no sign of exhaustion, no hesitation in his movements. The observers outside watched in growing disbelief as his name continued to rise higher on the towerʼs ranking display. The eightieth floor fell. Then the eighty fifth. Then the eighty ninth.

Finally, Max stepped onto the ninetieth floor. By then, he had defeated opponent after opponent, each one at the ninth level of the Rebirth Realm, each one a fragment of a real warrior whose strength would dominate ordinary cultivators. Yet none of them had managed to slow him down. His ascent had been relentless, steady, and absolute.

Outside the Combat Tower, the atmosphere had fallen into complete silence. Every screen displayed Maxʼs figure as he advanced from one floor to the next, and even the elders who had witnessed countless disciples attempt this trial over the years found themselves at a loss for words.

They had seen prodigies struggle, they had seen peak talents rise slowly through fierce battles, yet what unfolded before them now felt entirely different. It was not merely the fact that Max was ascending. It was the manner in which he did so.

He did not climb the tower step by step with visible strain or narrow victories. He rushed through it. From the thirty first floor onward, every opponent that appeared before him was a soul fragment of a real warrior from the Divine Realm. These were not hollow illusions or simple constructs.

Each fragment carried genuine combat experience and refined techniques. Yet in Maxʼs hands, they seemed no different from puppets made of straw. He crushed them with overwhelming strength, shattered their techniques with ease, and ended their existence without allowing them to display even half of their prowess.