---
title: "Chapter 546: Max’s Turn"
slug: "ch-546"
novel: "Dimensional Keeper: All My Skills Are at Level 100"
number: 546
views: 0
likes: 0
wordCount: 1230
createdAt: "2026-04-15"
---

’Is that the reason I am sensing a godlike presence from the painting?’ Max suddenly thought, his brows knitting together as he gazed deeply at the Nine Dragons Painting.

The aura he felt—it wasn’t just ancient or sacred. It was overwhelming, divine in a way that made even the gods spoken of in myths seem lesser.

When Lady Virelia mentioned that the three Supreme Masters had left behind fragments of their souls within the original painting, something clicked inside him. It wasn’t ridiculous anymore, not far-fetched at all.

If those fragments were real—if even a trace of their will lingered inside that canvas—then it would explain why he alone among everyone present could feel the oppressive, majestic pressure radiating from it.

The others didn’t even flinch. They stood calmly, unaware, because perhaps their bloodlines weren’t strong enough to register the echo of such vast, ancient souls. But his? His bloodline was different. Max knew this now more than ever. It was the purest in the entire city, maybe even beyond.

It resonated not just with the inheritances but with the very source of the Black Dragon Palace itself. And perhaps that was why, in the presence of the Nine Dragons Painting, he alone felt as though he were being watched... as though the eyes of the three creators were already upon him, waiting.

"Oh there she is, finally entering the 7th floor," Jason said, his voice carrying a strange calmness as his gaze remained fixed on the glowing dot slowly ascending within the Nine Dragons Painting. "The previous two times she attempted this, it was one of the three Supreme Masters on the seventh floor who brought her to a halt. No matter how far she pushed her inheritances, no matter how refined her concepts were, she still couldn’t break through."

There was a shift in Jason’s tone, a subtle but unmistakable gravity, rare for someone who always spoke with casual ease.

"This is her third try," he continued, eyes narrowed slightly, "and her last chance. Everyone is only allowed three attempts inside the Nine Dragons Painting. Once those are exhausted, no matter how talented, no one is given another chance."

He crossed his arms and exhaled slowly. "If she fails now... then that will be the end of her journey in the Nine Dragons Painting. Her achievement, no matter how extraordinary it may seem on the outside, would be recorded as nothing more than what many others like me have managed—reaching the seventh floor but never conquering the guardian of that gate."

His words hung in the air like a quiet verdict, not mocking, not mournful, just matter-of-fact—weighted by the understanding of how merciless the trial truly was.

Max nodded at the side.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the crowd inside the arena held their breath, eyes fixed on the floating dots inside the Nine Dragons Painting.

One after another, movement came. Four of the dots slowly drifted downward from the fourth floor, flickering briefly before vanishing completely—those five had failed the fourth trial and were forcefully ejected.

Minutes passed, and three other dots advanced to the sixth floor, only to dim out in quick succession, confirming their removal from the test as well. And now, only two dots remained.

All attention narrowed on those last two flickering points of light—one resting on the sixth floor, the other alone on the seventh. The tension in the arena grew, silence blanketing the stands like snowfall. Everyone waited. Even the instructors, normally aloof and detached, watched with furrowed brows.

Jason leaned forward slightly, a subtle frown creasing his forehead. "It’s been this long," he muttered, his voice low and uncertain, "and she still hasn’t reached the eighth floor..."

He shook his head with a resigned sigh. "She’ll be kicked out too. It’s over."

Moments ticked by. The dot on the sixth floor flickered and vanished first, the candidate inside failing to endure the trial.

And finally, as if on cue, the last remaining dot—the one on the seventh floor—trembled faintly before blinking out as well.

That marked the end. All nine participants had been expelled from the Nine Dragons Painting.

A collective exhale swept through the arena. The trial’s first round had concluded... and Lucia Grimes, despite all her strength and pride, had once again fallen short of the eighth floor.

Whispers passed from one to another as eyes darted toward the elegant figure now appearing at the base of the arena—Lucia Grimes, the infamous daughter of the Divine Realm’s mighty Grimes Family.

"That was her, right?" one genius muttered, his voice low with curiosity. "Lucia Grimes... She actually reached the seventh floor."

"Yeah, that’s her," another replied, eyes narrowed. "Word is, she’s obsessed with comprehending every major inheritance our Black Dragon Palace has to offer. She’s taken them all... every single one."

"She’s insane," a third genius added with a shake of the head. "I’ve heard the stories too. They say she doesn’t even acknowledge her own brother. Treats him like some irrelevant stranger even though he’s older."

"Pfft," scoffed another from the side, "what did you expect? She’s the wild untamed daughter of the Grimes Family. She’s always been like that—does whatever she wants, doesn’t care what others think, and if someone gets in her way, she breaks them."

"But still..." someone else whispered, "even with her arrogance and all those inheritances she’s mastered, she couldn’t pass the seventh floor."

The murmurs faded into an uneasy silence as the realization settled: even a genius like Lucia Grimes—praised, feared, and scorned in equal measure—had fallen short before the legacy of the Three Supreme Masters within the Nine Dragons Painting.

A moment later, Lucia arrived before Max, Jason and Lady Virelia.

"Don’t get depressed, sis," Jason said with a light chuckle, trying to lift the heavy air that clung to Lucia after her return from the Nine Dragons Painting. "You should already know—it’s almost impossible to enter the eighth floor. No shame in that."

But Lucia didn’t respond. Her expression remained cold, impassive. She brushed past her brother as if he weren’t even there. Her eyes locked onto Max—sharp and unreadable, like a sword hidden beneath silk.

"Your turn," she said, voice calm yet laced with quiet challenge.

Max didn’t flinch. He simply gave her a nod and walked forward, stepping past her without a word.

At this moment, there weren’t many others who stepped up for the next round of the trial. Max’s eyes swept across the line of participants—just six others, all young elites like himself.

And of course an old man in grey clothes was overseeing everything.

’I guess those were some of the leftover geniuses from previous attempts,’ Max thought to himself. After all, the True Inheritance trial was still underway, and most were wisely saving their three precious chances for when their comprehension of inheritance was complete.

Wasting a chance now, without full preparation, would be nothing short of throwing away a miracle.

And so Max waited, calm as a sleeping flame, as the second round prepared to begin.

It didn’t take long for the vacant spots to be filled. Within minutes, two more geniuses stepped forward from the observing crowd, each with quiet determination burning in their eyes.

With Max and the six others, the total count now stood at nine—the full quota needed for the next round of the Nine Dragons Painting trial.