---
title: "Chapter 682: Bright Buddha Inheritance"
slug: "ch-688"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 688
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1367
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

According to the ancient texts and fragmented records that had survived the wars and chaos of past eras, the Bright Buddha Inheritance was a divine art born from the comprehension of an ancient expert who had seen Buddha mediating on the bodhi tree and achieving enlightenment.

Even the Great Ruler Empire’s own archives noted that only those who had reached Legend Rank, and with exceptional spiritual enlightenment at that, could hope to begin understanding its mysteries. Yet, before his very eyes, Noah—a youth who appeared no older than Lyra—was unleashing the technique not only with fluency, but with the full force described in legends.

The golden scripture circles, the six sacred mudras combining into one divine judgment palm, the phantom Buddha overhead—all of it matched the descriptions that had been treated as symbolic exaggerations in the records.

"This isn’t just prodigy-level mastery... this is a complete overturning of everything we knew about the Bright Buddha Palace," Elder Drew thought, his throat dry. It meant only one thing: either the Bright Buddha Palace had deceived the world for generations... or Noah was an unprecedented monster.

Elder Drew slowly turned his gaze to Elder Heng, the old man from the Bright Buddha Palace, hoping—no, needing—some kind of explanation for what he was witnessing.

But all he saw was a figure of stillness, the calm and closed eyes of someone who seemed completely detached from the chaos around him, as if the result of this earth-shaking battle had no bearing on him whatsoever.

There was no pride, no arrogance, no concern—just serenity, the kind that came from absolute confidence or absolute detachment. It sent a chill through Elder Drew’s heart.

On the other side, even Lyra, who was always composed and calculating, looked completely solemn. Her fists clenched by her side as she stared at the golden palm that now hung over the world like a divine judgment.

She had read about the legendary Bright Buddha Inheritance in secret imperial scrolls—techniques passed down from the ancient age of enlightenment, where each strike carried the weight of karma and divinity.

It wasn’t just an attack. It was judgment incarnate. She knew that unless someone was a true monster, a peerless talent who stood above all others, it was impossible to withstand that attack—let alone block it.

Her heart clenched. Could Max really handle something like this?

At the very center of the golden radiance, where the pressure of the Buddha’s will bore down like the weight of the heavens, stood Max. His figure was firm, unmoving, and eerily calm—like a sword waiting to be drawn. Sweat ran down the side of his face, but his eyes were steady, unwavering.

Inside his heart, there was no panic. Only clarity.

’This attack... I can’t sever it.’ The thought came not as fear, but acceptance. He could feel it—the terrifying power in that golden palm wasn’t something his current sword concept could cut through.

Not because his sword concept was weak, but because his understanding of it was still shallow. He had touched the level 2 Concept of Severing Sword, yes—but this palm was pressing down on his very soul. It was not just a palm made of mana or law—it was a test of comprehension, of meaning, of truth.

And his understanding wasn’t deep enough to break through it. His own lack of insight was what held his sword back—not the concept itself.

But that didn’t mean his sword was useless. Not in the slightest. Max’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword, both hands firm as steel, veins bulging across his arms.

He closed his eyes—not out of fear, but resolve. One by one, he sealed off all his senses, his breath steady and unshaken. He allowed his Three Dimensional Body to take over—his absolute spatial awareness guiding his every thought and motion while his soul turned inward, completely focused on the edge of his blade.

And then... his Concept of Severing Sword erupted. It didn’t scream or explode. It simply unfolded like a silent blade slicing through the world. A cold, indescribable aura filled the space around him as the sword in his hand trembled with a will of its own.

The entire atmosphere seemed to pause for a moment as the pure essence of severing descended upon the battlefield. It was sharp—sharper than before.

But there was something else now. Something new. A thin, almost imperceptible change shimmered along the edge of his concept—a new edge. The edge of invincibility.

That single edge... felt like it could battle against fate itself. Like it could shatter karma, destiny, even divinity itself.

This was the Sky Shattering Invincible Sword Art.

Max had spent what felt like half a century inside the Dimension of Time, endlessly pondering how he could make the Sky Shattering Invincible Sword Art compatible with his Concept of Severing Sword.

Day after day, year after year, he immersed himself in thought and practice, trying countless variations and forms, discarding one after another, reshaping them again with patience that would drive most mad.

He had attempted more than a thousand different approaches—some wild, some calculated, others born purely from instinct—and yet in the end, his understanding was still shallow.

All he could grasp for now was how to slightly merge the effect of invincibility with the severing intent of his sword concept.

It wasn’t the true first move of the Sky Shattering Invincible Sword Art—Unyielding Sword Will—not by a long shot. That move contained a profoundness his current comprehension couldn’t fully touch. He wasn’t at that level yet.

The level of mastery it demanded far exceeded what he was capable of, even after fifty years of condensed effort. Still, he wasn’t disheartened.

This minor fusion—this partial glimpse—was enough for now. It gave his Concept of Severing Sword a new sharpness, a deeper edge, something far more lethal and refined than it had ever been before. It didn’t make him invincible, but it gave him the feeling that nothing in front of him was uncuttable.

For the moment, that was enough. He believed that someday, perhaps after centuries of comprehending in the Dimension of Time, growth, and battle, he would be able to truly unleash Unyielding Sword Will fully merged with his Concept of Severing Sword.

But until that day came, he would fight with what he had—this embryonic invincible edge—and carve open a path through anything that dared stand in his way.

Max opened his eyes slowly, and though they were calm, behind that calmness burned something pure and unyielding.

He raised his sword—steady, silent, and absolute. "Even if the sky fall... I will cut through them," he muttered, his blade glowing with the full might of the Severing Sword Concept—now carrying the faint but undeniable edge of invincibility.

But Max wasn’t satisfied—not yet, not when the pressure from the golden Buddha palm loomed over him like the judgment of heaven itself.

"Dragon Scales Transformation!" he muttered through gritted teeth. In an instant, black glowing scales surged across his body, encasing him in a second skin of draconic power. His arms, chest, neck—every muscle and joint—hardened into something far beyond human. It was as if a dragon had awakened within him, roaring in defiance of fate itself.

"Full might of the 600 Draconic Essences!" Max declared, his voice shaking the air around him. He had never dared to release their complete power before, not unless he was prepared to risk everything.

But this time, he held back nothing. No restraint. No caution. No hesitation. And the result was immediate.

Bang!

A deafening blast rang out, a shockwave bursting from his body that cracked the air and sent tremors racing across the battlefield. The ground beneath his feet shattered like brittle glass, spiderweb fissures radiating outward.

His veins bulged, glowing faintly beneath his skin as if lava surged beneath the surface. His complexion flushed crimson from the sheer pressure coursing through his body, blood threatening to burst from every pore.

His bones groaned, his flesh strained, but Max stood tall—his sword burning with invincible severing intent and the terrifying might of a dragon ready to defy the heavens.

And then he slashed his sword at the six hands buddha palm.