In later generations, the Cloud Realm strictly forbade private duels, and with the decline of spiritual energy in the world, only certain special regions known as ‘Sacred Grounds’ retained any significant concentration. Martial arts and cultivation methods began to fall into decline, and with the advent of various machines, technology flourished.

However, the people of the Cloud Realm, after all, inherited from their ancestors the indomitable spirit and fierce competitiveness born from struggling against heaven and earth.

Unable to practice martial arts in reality, they could only seek solace in the virtual world of games.

The most famous among these was a virtual full-immersion online game called ""Divine Emperor."" It was said to have invited all the living martial arts masters of the era, as well as hundreds of historians, to faithfully recreate the era thirteen thousand years ago, before the Divine Emperor descended—a time of heroes. Martial arts and cultivation, daily life, everything was rendered with near-perfect realism.

By the way, he remembered that in his previous life, his final consciousness was within the game ""Divine Emperor.""

The Seven Emperors of the Cloud Realm vied for supremacy. Alone, with a single sword, he fought against all the heroes. Yet at the final moment, a sudden jolt of electricity surged through his body, and he lost all consciousness.

When he awoke again, he found himself in a different body. Everything before his eyes was no longer that familiar world.

So, at this moment, was he still inside the game, or had he truly arrived in an era thirteen thousand years in the past?

His mind spun with dizziness once more, and Henry Clark simply let go of everything, refusing to think further.

After all, there was nothing to do in this carriage. Henry Clark instead took out a blue-steel sword about three feet long and began to practice swordsmanship in the relatively spacious compartment.

His footwork advanced and retreated, shifting with his body, causing sword light to flash within the not-too-large, not-too-small carriage.

Just as in his previous life, every sword move, every step, was executed with hair-splitting precision—almost perfect.

Yet after practicing these basic sword techniques for only about fifteen minutes, Henry Clark was already gasping for breath, drenched in cold sweat from head to toe.

Even the sword light and his movements began to falter. Only by sheer force of his innate, unyielding will did he manage to keep from collapsing to the floor.

Not until every last ounce of strength was spent did Henry Clark finally stop, sitting on the couch, panting heavily.

As his intense focus finally dissipated, he immediately felt pain searing through every muscle, bone, limb, and organ, as if scorched by fire.

This was not merely out of boredom, but pure anxiety. The world around him, and his own situation, filled him with a sense of crisis and urgency. He was desperate to gain some strength—at the very least, enough to protect his own life.

In his previous life, for the sake of that game, he had trained and studied all the martial foundations to the level of a grandmaster. In the entire Cloud Realm, there were only about a thousand people who had achieved this.

He had already mastered all the principles and variations of swordsmanship. What he needed now was simply to make this body remember them, to turn them into instinct.

But this body of his was truly too frail. Even ordinary practice could only be sustained for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, and his stamina was less than half that of a normal person.

Even more discouraging was that he could not practice even the most basic internal energy techniques.

It wasn’t that Henry Clark’s body was truly weak. In terms of strength, agility, and flexibility, he was even above average. His bones and spiritual roots of the five elements should have been those of a genius. It was just his stamina that, for some unknown reason, was extraordinarily poor.

However, after seven days of exploration, Henry Clark had some clues. It was likely due to his bloodline: as a half-demon, a human-fox hybrid, he had such a handsome face, but also such a frail constitution.

And, as expected, both his paternal and maternal families must have extraordinary backgrounds.

“This human bloodline, I’m not sure of its traits. But this demon bloodline is clearly that of the Seven-Tailed Celestial Fox. In the entire Cloud Realm, there are probably fewer than a hundred with such blood! If only one side could dominate, it would be fine, but they are locked in a stalemate. In the Cloud Realm, in any era, almost everyone practices martial arts—even a mere youth can usually open at least one meridian. Even the most unremarkable commoner often possesses decent martial skills. For my body to have not a trace of internal energy, not even the strength to truss a chicken—this is truly rare—”

Lying on the soft couch, all the thoughts Henry Clark had forcibly suppressed came flooding back.

Almost subconsciously, his mind recalled that mysterious demon script buried deep in his memory.

In his memory, this “Indeterminate Spirit Emperor Art” was accompanied by a set of Indeterminate Killing Fists and a set of Fish-Dragon Cloud Transformation—both martial techniques worthy of being called supreme arts.

As for the words ‘Indeterminate Spirit Emperor,’ Henry Clark always felt he had heard them before, but could not recall where.

“A top-tier supreme art, and it even comes with a set of fist techniques and a movement technique. With two high-level bloodlines, this identity is definitely not ordinary—most likely the descendant of some Cloud Realm noble. Could it be that this Henry Clark is a scion of a great family? The surname Zong? From that Tianhu Zong clan that was wiped out? For some reason, this name feels familiar. Oh, and those two servants—”

Thinking of the two who had traveled with him these past seven days but were now temporarily away, Henry Clark couldn’t help but feel another wave of dizziness.