Anthony's thoughts trembled at Colonel Vazeryth's final words.
His gaze shifted to Zhyravel.
A man capable of crafting cultivation manuals for the pinnacle figures of the world was anything but ordinary.
To have done so for nine individuals of such stature, each one meticulously tailored to their unique essence, was nothing short of madness.
The knowledge alone was staggering.
The time, immense.
The intellect, unparalleled.
And the sheer madness, unthinkable.
It also implied something even more astounding: the Nine Supreme Monarchs had permitted Zhyravel to examine their bodies, at least to some extent, in order to craft such personalized cultivation manuals.
After all, how could one forge something so precise without first understanding the very essence of the individual it was meant for?
Creating cultivation manuals of such caliber demanded far more than time, knowledge, or intellect.
