Chapter 99: Chapter 99: Snow Wind Sacred Physique
The Northern Continent of the Saint Burial Realm was a stark, unforgiving expanse of jagged ice floes and eternal blizzards.
Here, the spiritual Qi didn't just flow; it bit at the skin with the cold of a thousand winters. Ordinary Cultivators would find it hard to use their full power in this place, as the place seems to be restricting them.
Of course, this is limited to the furthest north, while the rest of the continent, albeit cold, remained mostly habitable.
At this moment, in the heart of the few habitable land of this continent, the Northern Branch of the Conferred Pagoda stood like a defiant obsidian spear piercing the grey sky.
Just then, the space in the central courtyard rippled, a tear of violet light manifesting before solidifying into three figures.
Shen Haoran stepped out first, his new midnight-blue robes seemingly immune to the howling wind.
Behind him followed Qing'er, her presence as silent and oppressive as the shadows she commanded, and Ling Luochen, whose crimson eyes scanned the familiar yet distant architecture of her sect's northern outpost.
Waiting for them in the center of the plaza was Shangguan Mu'er. The bluish-silver hair of the Nascent Soul elder fluttered in the gale, her white robes blending almost perfectly with the drifting snow.
"Master!" Ling Luochen called out, her voice carrying through the wind.
She broke into a light run, stopping several paces before Mu'er to cup her hands in a deep, respectful bow.
Shangguan Mu'er's gaze sharpened as it fell upon her disciple and a flicker of genuine surprise crossed her ethereal features. "You... your cultivation. In just one year, you have reached the very peak of the Foundation Establishment realm? And your aura... it feels as dense as a mountain."
Ling Luochen shook her head, her expression one of humble gratitude. "It was all thanks to the Young Master's guidance and the trials he allowed me to face."
"It was all due to your own efforts," Haoran said, his voice calm as he walked toward them, his boots crunching rhythmically on the frozen ground.
He didn't offer empty praise. Over the past year, as they traversed the entirety of Southern continent, Haoran had brought Luochen into some of the most treacherous forbidden zones and ancient ruins in the realm.
However, he had never once raised a finger to clear her path. He had simply stood back and watched, a silent observer to her struggle.
For Shen Haoran, a woman is only worth keeping if they are a flower that can bloom amidst the storm.
Although it is true that a flower raised in a greenhouse, shielded from the elements and fed with artificial nutrients, is definitely beautiful to look at, but a flower that had braved the wind and rain possessed something more than just beauty.
He had treated Huo Yue the same way—giving her the initial spark of resources but leaving her to forge her own path through fire.
He had done the same with Ning Xueli, providing the imperial inheritance but leaving her to climb the stairs of the palace with her own bleeding feet.
He wanted companions who were tempered by the storm, not ornaments that would shatter at the first sign of pressure.
After all, if he simply wanted some beautiful girls to accompany him, he can wave his hand and the girls who wanted to be admired by him can form their own kingdom.
During his time with Ling Luochen, he was also testing her to see if she was worth keeping by his side.
And indeed, there is a reason why this girl can endure Cultivating the Asura's Descent Cultivation technique.
Shangguan Mu'er turned toward Haoran, her eyes reflecting a deep, instinctual respect as she cupped her hands. "Young Master, I assume your presence here in the North means you have sensed the opening of the Saint-level secret realm?"
Shen Haoran nodded slowly, looking toward the distant horizon where a faint, pulsating golden glow was beginning to stain the clouds. "Hm. I have a feeling that this particular trip will be very... fulfilling. The heavens have been busy preparing a feast."
Mu'er didn't pry into his cryptic words, knowing that the "Upper Realm" perspective was beyond her. "Young Master, I have prepared a Phoenix-tailed Red Sparrow as our mount for the journey. It is a Rank 5 spirit beast capable of defying the Northern blizzards. With its speed, we can reach the site of the stone gates within half a day—just as the barrier weakens enough for entry. Currently, the realm's internal laws are still repelling all intruders with a violent spatial backlash."
"Very well," Haoran agreed.
He preferred this method. While he could have simply ordered Qing'er to tear through space and bring them there in an instant, waiting at a barren gate for twelve hours was a waste of his aesthetic sensibilities.
Traveling by mount allowed him to observe the shifting geography of the Northern Continent and enjoy the savage beauty of the world he was currently "cleansing."
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Meanwhile, countless miles to the north, the scene was far more chaotic.
At the base of a towering, translucent glacier, a pair of massive stone gates stood embedded in the ice.
They radiated a light so bright it made the surrounding snow look like glittering diamonds.
Around it, thousands of cultivators had already gathered, forming a sprawling, disorganized camp that circled the gates like vultures around a dying beast.
Amongst the crowd, a figure stood largely unnoticed.
He wore a heavy, tattered brown cloak that smelled of damp earth and woodsmoke, the hood pulled low to obscure his features.
This was Jiang Chen.
He stood silently, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his eyes scanning the crowd with a clinical coldness.
He noted the power levels with a internal sneer. Foundation Establishment... Qi Gathering... a few Core Formation elders from local third-rate sects. Pathetic. The true powerhouses haven't arrived yet, it seems.
Suddenly, a massive commotion erupted.
The low-level cultivators began to point toward the sky, their voices rising in a mixture of awe and terror.
"Hey! Look! Up there!"
"That's the Three-Legged White Crow! The signature guardian beast of the Ice God Palace!"
Jiang Chen tilted his head back, his black eyes narrowing.
High above, a magnificent bird with feathers like spun silver and three powerful, taloned legs descended through the blizzard.
It let out a piercing cry that seemed to freeze the very air, its wingspan casting a shadow over the entire camp.
The bird landed with a thud that shook the glacier, its cold aura causing the nearby cultivators to scramble backward, their breath coming out in thick plumes of frost.
Then, several figures leaped down from the crow's back, their movements light and practiced.
At their head was a woman whose beauty seemed to be carved from the glacier itself.
She had long, flowing light-blue hair that shimmered like a frozen river and silver eyes that held the chill of a winter midnight.
She wore a pristine white robe accented with deep blue silks, the symbol of a blooming lotus on her chest.
"That's her!" someone whispered frantically. "The Sect Master of the Ice God Palace! A peak Golden Core Realm expert... Xue Bing'er!"
Jiang Chen's eyes turned towards Xue Bing'er, and instantly, it burned with a dark recognition.
He ignored her beauty and her status, as his gaze was fixed on the rhythm of her breathing and the way the ambient ice-qi in the air seemed to bow toward her body as if seeking a home.
'That aura... that resonance with the frost laws...' jiang Chen thought, a smirk appearing beneath the shadow of his hood. It's unmistakable. 'An unawakened Snow Wind Sacred Physique!'
In his previous life as a Sword Venerable, he had seen many such geniuses.
A Sacred Physique was a treasure that could allow a cultivator to jump entire realms in combat, a physique that is only below the Divine Physiques.
If she could be "guided" into awakening it properly, she would become a pillar of power that could suppress an entire continent in the future.
Even in the Prime Origin Realm, given enough resources, she would have a great chance at ascending to Supreme Emperor Realm and be hailed for eternity!
'What a coincidence,' Jiang Chen mused, his fingers twitching under his cloak. 'The heavens truly provide. I need a 'sword' to wield against the Shen Clan, and here is a blade of pure ice just waiting to be forged. If I can take her as my disciple—or my woman—my rise in this realm will be unstoppable.'
He watched as Xue Bing'er walked toward the stone gates, her presence alone silencing the bickering of the local sects.
Truly a woman worthy to stand by his side! Beautiful, cold, powerful, and carrying a hidden potential that only he could unlock.
As if noticing his gaze, Xue Bing'er turned her head with a frown.
But at that moment, Jiang Chen already lowered his head and hid behind the group of mobs.
Xue Bing'er observed the surroundings, but found nothing.
"Sect master?" Asked one of elders accompanying her.
Xue Bing'er shook her head, "It's nothing. Must've been my imagination."
Jiang Chen smiled to himself, walking into the very back of the mobs.
Chapter 100: Chapter 100: Celebrating the 100th Chapter!
The Northern Continent's winds, already capable of flash-freezing a mortal in seconds, seemed to grow even more colder as the spiritual pressure around the ancient stone gates reached a boiling point.
Xue Bing'er stood at the vanguard of the Ice God Palace disciples, her blue hair whipping like a banner of frost against the white horizon.
She didn't move, her arms remained crossed over her chest, and her silver eyes remained fixed on the swirling golden patterns etched into the monolithic entrance.
"Sect Master, the gates are still emitting a high-frequency spatial pulse. They are repelling everyone who approaches within fifty paces," noted one of her inner sect elders, a man whose beard was literally a cluster of icicles. "It probably hasn't been fully opened yet. If we force our way in now, the spatial backlash could shatter a Golden Core foundation."
"Hmm. If my calculations are correct, based on the thinning of the localized ley lines, it wouldn't be long before it fully opens. Perhaps another two hours," another elder added, squinting through a specialized spirit-glass monocle.
"I guess we have no choice but to wait," Xue Bing'er said, her voice like the cracking of a glacier.
She was patient, a trait honed by decades of meditating in sub-zero caves.
However, her patience was immediately tested.
Just then, a thunderous, wet roar echoed across the tundra, vibrating through the very soles of their boots.
Xue Bing'er's brow twitched, her expression shifting from cold neutrality to visible annoyance. "That obnoxious noise... he's here."
"Look! Up in the clouds! It's the Blue-Scaled Water Dragon!" a rogue cultivator shouted, pointing a trembling finger. "That's the signature mount of the Sky Water Sect!"
"Even they are here!? Two of the Three Great Powers of North have already assembled!"
"What chance does rogue cultivators like us have!?"
In the sky, the spectacle was undeniable.
A draconic beast, hundreds of miles long with scales the color of a deep, stormy ocean, tore through the cloud layer.
It didn't just fly; it swam through the air, leaving a trail of torrential rain that froze into hail before hitting the ground.
The dragon roared once more, a sound that forced lower-level Foundation Establishment experts to cover their ears in agony, before it coiled its massive body and landed a few miles from the gates.
Then, several figures jumped from the dragon's head, gliding down with practiced elegance.
Leading them was a man who looked to be in his late twenties, though his eyes held the depth of an ancient sea.
He had long black hair tied with a blue silk ribbon and eyes that glowed with a faint, bioluminescent light.
"It's Sect Master Shui Heng!" the crowd whispered in hushed, fearful tones. "The strongest person in the Northern Continent! A 1st stage Nascent Soul Cultivator!"
In Saint Burial Realm, a Nascent Soul realm cultivator is the absolute pinnacle of power, and can only be found in the Divine Continent.
It is incredibly rare for a Nascent Soul expert to appear in one of the four continents.
In the entire Northern continent, only Shui Heng was known to be a Nascent Soul expert.
Shui Heng ignored the thousands of gazes fixed upon him, his movements were fluid, almost predatory, as he scanned the crowd.
When his eyes landed on the slender back of Xue Bing'er, a wide, confident smile broke across his face as he walked toward her, his footsteps leaving puddles of unfrozen water on the permafrost.
"Bing'er! It seems you arrived earlier than I did," Shui Heng called out, his voice smooth and carrying an irritatingly familiar warmth. "With two of our Sects gathered here, only the Conferred Pagoda is missing. Once they arrive, the Three Great Powers of the North will finally be assembled. It's a rare occasion, wouldn't you say?"
Xue Bing'er turned slowly, her silver eyes as sharp as a ritual dagger.
"Sect Master Shui," she stated coldly, the air between them beginning to crystallize. "Please refer to me as Sect Master Xue. We are not that close, nor do I have any desire to be. Besides, by the records, you are two hundred years my senior, and you are of the same generation as my grandfather. Have you forgotten your manners in your old age?"
Shui Heng chuckled, unfazed by the frost in her voice as he stepped closer, invading her personal space with the arrogance that only a Nascent Soul expert could afford. "Come now, Bing'er. We're both Sect Masters here. We stand at the peak of this world. Besides, as a Golden Core expert, you can easily live for a thousand years. What's a measly two-hundred-year age gap between peers? It's practically a heartbeat."
"Sect Master Shui, please respect yourself and the position you hold," Xue Bing'er glared at him, taking a step back, her aura flaring.
Small snowflakes began to orbit her body, each one sharp enough to decapitate a Foundation Establishment warrior.
She was barely restraining her desire to draw her blade.
"Come on, I—" Shui Heng started, intending to continue his flirtatious banter.
His words were cut off by a high-pitched, melodic cry that pierced through the wind and the dragon's lingering growl.
It was a sound of pure authority that everyone instinctively looked up and saw a streak of crimson burning through the grey sky, moving with a speed that defied the laws of physics.
"That—!?"
"The Phoenix-tailed Red Sparrow!"
"It's the Conferred Pagoda! The Conferred Pagoda are here!"
The massive bird, its feathers shimmering with a heat that didn't melt the snow but seemed to transcend it, descended with a grace that made the Blue-Scaled Water Dragon look like a clumsy earthworm.
As the sparrow's aura expanded, it didn't just challenge the other mounts; it completely suppressed them.
The Water Dragon lowered its head in submission, and the Three-Legged White Crow tucked its wings, trembling.
Hiding in the shadows of a nearby ice crag, Jiang Chen felt a sudden, violent surge of adrenaline.
Beneath his tattered brown cloak, his body shook—not from the cold, but from a boiling, poisonous resentment.
The familiar aura of those Shen clan dogs was unmistakable. It was the aura of the people who had trampled his pride and treated him like a joke.
'Those Shen dogs... they've arrived,' Jiang Chen thought, his teeth grinding together so hard they bled.
His fists clenched, his nails digging deep into his palms until crimson droplets froze against his skin.
But he ignored the pain, his eyes fixed on the descending sparrow with the intensity of a demon. 'Just you wait, you dogs of the Shen clan... I will make you pay for every drop of blood I've spilled. I am the Child of Fate, and this realm will be your tomb!'
The Sparrow landed with a soft thump, the heat from its wings creating a circle of dry, warm earth in the middle of the ice.
Then, four figures jumped down.
Shen Haoran led the way, his midnight-blue robes fluttering slightly.
Behind him were Qing'er, Ling Luochen, and lastly, the legendary Elder of Conferred Pagoda herself, Shangguan Mu'er.
Instantly, the thousands of gathered cultivators erupted in a cacophony of noise.
"That! That's Shangguan Mu'er! The 'Strongest Expert Under The Heavens' in the Saint Burial Realm!"
"Even someone of her status was attracted by this secret realm!? The treasures inside must be beyond our imagination!"
"Wait... hey, look at them! Why is she walking behind those two?"
The realization hit the crowd like a physical blow as they observed closely.
Indeed, the legendary Shangguan Mu'er—a woman who could destroy most sects with a flick of her sleeve—was walking three paces behind Haoran and Qing'er.
Her head was slightly bowed, her posture defensive yet unmistakably subservient.
The rogue cultivators and even the disciples of the Ice God Palace stared in stunned silence.
Who were these two youths? To have a Nascent Soul expert of the Conferred Pagoda act as a servant was a level of prestige that didn't exist in the Northern Continent.
Even Shui Heng, who considered himself the "Strongest," felt a cold sweat break out on his back as he felt the unfathomable depth of the aura radiating from the young man in the lead.
Haoran walked toward the massive stone gates, ignoring the thousands of eyes as he stopped just ten paces from the entrance, where the repelling force was at its strongest.
He didn't even flare his Qi; the golden light from the gates seemed to part naturally as he approached, as if the realm itself recognized its true master.
He looked up at the ancient runes, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips.
"So this is it..." he murmured, his golden eyes reflecting the shimmering light. "Hmm, judging from its aura, this realm belonged to someone who is already Half-step into the Supreme Emperor Realm."
Considering the experts from the distant forgotten past were more powerful than the experts of today, this expert would probably be more than a match for average modern Emperor like the Bright Silver Emperor.
Well, it's understandable. Even amongst the Emperor level, the Bright Silver Emperor can only be considered as the bottom of the barrel, an Emperor gatekeeper, so to speak.
If the Bright Silver Emperor knew that he was being used as a combat power measurement, he'd probably cry.
Haoran removed his gaze from the gate and looked around, and instantly, he noticed someone at the very back, wearing a tattered cloak, trying hard to remain inconspicuous.
He noticed the figure flinch, and Haoran immediately retracted his gaze and smiled.
At the very back, Jiang Chen couldn't help but feel a cold sweat, his entire body shivering not from cold, but from that absolute, primal fear.
'Did he... Did he notice me!? No, that's impossible! If he did, then he would've already attacked! Yes, it must be a coincidence. Yes, just a coincidence.'
He shook his head, hiding behind the mobs and waited for the gate to open.
Chapter 101: Chapter 101: Restrictions
The icy winds of the Northern Continent continued to howl, whipping the snow into a frantic dance around the gathered cultivators, but the atmosphere near the ancient stone gates had turned into something far more chilling.
The arrival of the Conferred Pagoda's envoy had effectively silenced the bustling crowd, turning the previously arrogant masters of the North into little more than spectators in their own territory.
Shui Heng, the Sect Master of the Sky Water Sect, felt a trickle of cold sweat run down his spine despite his Nascent Soul cultivation.
He smoothed his robes, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his bioluminescent blue eyes as he took a step forward, his posture radiating a forced familiarity that made the nearby disciples of the Ice God Palace cringe.
"Miss Shangguan Mu'er, it is truly a pleasure to meet you again," Shui Heng said, his voice carrying a practiced, melodic tone as he bowed slightly, just enough to show respect without appearing completely subservient. "It has been ten years since we last met at the Grand Alliance Assembly, hasn't it? Your cultivation seems to have reached even greater heights since then."
Shangguan Mu'er, who was standing like a sentinel behind Haoran and Qing'er, slowly turned her gaze toward him.
Her bluish-silver hair fluttered in the wind, and her expression remained as static as a marble statue as she frowned, her eyes scanning his face with a lack of recognition that was almost physically painful to witness.
"Who are you?" she asked.
Her voice was flat, devoid of any warmth or malice, which only made the question sting more.
After she said that, the entire plateau was engulfed by a pin-dropping silence.
Thousands of cultivators, from rogue Foundation Establishment warriors to the elders of the first-tier sects, held their breath.
The "Strongest Person in the North" had just been treated like a nameless blade of grass!
Shui Heng's face instantly flushed a deep, burning crimson as he felt the heat of embarrassment rising from his neck to his ears, but he forced himself to remain calm.
To lose his temper here would not only be a disgrace to his sect but potentially a death sentence.
He coughed into his hand, his smile now looking brittle and painted on.
"Ah, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised you've forgotten, Miss Shangguan Mu'er," Shui Heng said, his voice strained. "We briefly met ten years ago when you were promoted to the ranks of Great Elder. I was one of the regional representatives who offered a congratulatory gift—the Deep Sea Coral Heart, if I recall correctly."
"Is that so?" Shangguan Mu'er replied.
She didn't offer an apology, nor did she pretend to remember. She simply turned her gaze back to the back of Haoran's head, making it clear the conversation was over.
Obviously, Shui Heng wasn't so thick-skinned as to continue the conversation after such a blatant dismissal.
He knew his place in the hierarchy of the Saint Burial Realm; while he was an overlord in the North, Shangguan Mu'er represented the central authority of the Conferred Pagoda.
More importantly, unlike Xue Bing'er, who was weaker than him and he can tease and flirt with without consequences, Shangguan Mu'er was a peak Nascent Soul expert whose actual combat strength was capable of slapping him to death before he could even circulate his qi.
But desperate to salvage some of his dignity, Shui Heng turned his gaze toward the younger girl in the group, Ling Luochen.
"Greetings, Junior," he said, trying to regain his "Sect Master" persona. "I am Shui Heng. You must be a rising star of the Pagoda to be traveling in such esteemed company."
Ling Luochen, whose blood-red eyes were still taking in the sheer scale of the Northern Continent's power, instinctively hid behind her master's back.
However, she had been tempered by a year of traveling with Haoran and knew that showing weakness was a sin, so she stepped out slightly and cupped her hands.
"Ling Luochen. I am my master's disciple," she replied concisely.
"Master?" Shui Heng blinked, his confusion momentarily overriding his embarrassment.
His eyes then landed on Shangguan Mu'er again, who was now staring at him with cold, emotionless eyes that seemed to pierce through his very soul.
"She is my disciple," Mu'er said simply.
The weight of her words was like a mountain pressing down on Shui Heng's chest.
"A-Ah, is that so? My apologies. Apologies," Shui Heng chuckled nervously, bowing his head lower than before.
At this point, he was showing no dignity of the "strongest person in the North." He looked like a merchant haggling over copper coins rather than a Nascent Soul sovereign.
Well, it was understandable, as he realized that every single person in this group was someone he absolutely could not afford to offend.
Still, his curiosity was a powerful beast.
He turned his attention toward the woman standing directly behind the golden-haired youth.
Qing'er's presence was unlike anything he had ever felt—it wasn't just power; it was a void that seemed to swallow the light around her.
"Greetings, Miss, I am—"
"Scram," Qing'er said.
Her voice was like the sliding of a blade out of a scabbard, and her words wasn't a request; it was an order backed by a Saint-level intent that made Shui Heng's blood momentarily freeze in his veins.
"Ah, yes, yes, apologies, apologies," he stammered, his face now pale as he scrambled backward several steps.
He bowed his head repeatedly, his survival instinct screaming at him to get as far away from her as possible.
Her presence alone screamed that she was a primal predator who viewed him as nothing more than a bothersome insect.
Finally, Shui Heng turned his gaze to the last person of the group—the youth leading them.
He could sense that this young man was the true center of the universe for these powerful women.
"Greetings, Young Master. I am Shui Heng, Sect Master of the Sky Water Sect. It is an honor to witness your arrival in our humble North."
Haoran turned his gaze toward him, his golden eyes were filled with a terrifying, clinical boredom.
He didn't even acknowledge Shui Heng's status or his bow. "And? Do you need something? Or are you just here to provide background noise?"
"Ah, nothing, nothing! Sorry for disturbing you, Young Master!" Shui Heng bowed one last time and immediately retreated to the very back of his own sect's formation, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird.
Xue Bing'er, who had been watching the entire exchange from the Ice God Palace's side, almost lost her icy composure and laughed out loud.
But although she suppressed the urge, a small, suppressed sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh still escaped her lips.
Seeing this persistent old cow, the arrogant Shui Heng, reduced to a stuttering mess was more refreshing than a century-old frost-lotus.
Qing'er, standing like a shadow behind Haoran, heard her laugh and turned her gaze towards her for a moment, before she leaned in to Haoran slightly.
Just then, her voice resonated directly in Haoran's mind through their telepathic connection. "Young Master, that woman in the white and blue robes possesses the Snow Wind Sacred Physique. However, it currently remains dormant, its potential suppressed by the low-grade cultivation techniques of this world."
"I noticed," Haoran replied casually, his eyes briefly flickering over Xue Bing'er. "It's a waste of a good physique in this 'trash' realm. But let it be for now. We have a more important thing to do."
"Understood."
Just then, the massive stone gates let out a deep, resonant hum as the golden light intensified, blinding the lower-level cultivators.
Then, a series of ancient, glowing runes manifested in the air above the entrance, forming words that hung like a decree from the heavens: "Those who are over 100 years old are forbidden from entering. The trial is for the young; the old shall remain in the dust."
"It's open," Haoran said, his voice calm.
Then, he didn't even wait for the light to fade and he simply stepped forward.
"Young Master... apologies," Qing'er said, her voice tinged with a rare trace of frustration. "It seems the laws of this secret realm are rigid. With my true age, I can only wait for you here on the outside. I will maintain a spatial lock; if anything threatens you, I will tear this realm apart to reach you."
"Hm. It doesn't matter. I'll be back soon, Qing'er," Haoran said, not looking back.
To him, the "danger" of a Saint-level secret realm was equivalent to a walk in a well-manicured park.
With that, Haoran was the first to cross the threshold, his form disappearing into the golden curtain of light.
Ling Luochen looked at her teacher, who gave her a short, encouraging nod.
Without hesitation, Luochen followed after him, her heart filled with the determination to prove her worth to the Young Master.
"What the hell is this!?" Shui Heng's voice erupted in the silence, his previous fear momentarily replaced by indignation. "This is blatant discrimination! Discrimination against the experienced! I am the Sect Master of Sky Water Sect! I have the most right to these treasures amongst the people in the North!"
Xue Bing'er felt a surge of genuine satisfaction seeing the "Strongest" barred from entry.
Just then, she adjusted her robes, her light blue hair shimmering in the golden light of the gate. "Well then, Sect Master Shui Heng, it seems your 'experience' is your greatest enemy today. I will be going first. Try not to catch a cold out here."
She was perfectly eligible to enter; after all, as a cultivation genius, she was only fifty years old this year—a mere child in the eyes of the higher realms.
With a graceful movement, she stepped into the gate and vanished.
"Damn it! Damn it all!" Shui Heng cursed, kicking the frozen ground before he turned toward Shangguan Mu'er, who was calmly staring at the gates, "Miss Shangguan, don't you think this is a travesty? This secret realm is clearly discriminating against the true powerhouses of the world! Surely we should combine our strength to shatter the restriction?"
"I have no interest in your idea," Shangguan Mu'er said softly as she took a step forward and walked toward the gate with a serene expression.
"Wait, you aren't going to—" Shui Heng started, but his words died in his throat.
Shangguan Mu'er walked straight into the golden light. There was no resistance, no spatial backlash, and no rejection. She simply entered the gate and disappeared, leaving the Northern masters in a state of absolute shock.
"What!? She... she entered!?" Shui Heng screamed, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head. "She's less than a hundred years old!? How is that possible!? She's a Great Elder of the Pagoda! She's at the peak of the Nascent Soul realm! How can she be less than a hundred years old!?"
He stood there, staring at the closed gates, feeling as though the entire universe was conspiring to humiliate him.
While he had spent two centuries reaching the Nascent Soul realm, the woman he had tried to "reminisce" with had achieved far more in less than half the time.
Hidden in the shadows of the ice crag, Jiang Chen pulled his brown cloak tighter around his body as adark, twisted smirk touched his lips.
'The 'Old Monsters' are trapped outside,' he thought, his eyes burning with a vengeful light. 'This is my chance. Haoran... you think you're the only 'genius' here? In this realm, the heavens will show you who the true Master of Fate is.'
However, he couldn't help but frown as he stared at the gates.
'Does this determine the bone age or the soul age? If it's the latter, then I'm screwed. I'm already 800 years old, I won't be able to enter it.'
No.
He shook his head.
He is the blessed by the heavens, surely, he would be able to pass this gate without any trouble.
After all, if people found out his true age, how can he shock others of how much of a genius he is?
Yes, that's right.
Surely, he will be able to pass the gate!
Chapter 102: Chapter 102: The Ancient Saint
The golden light of the spatial gateway did not merely dazzle as he entered, but it felt like a physical weight pressing against Shen Haoran's retinas, forcing him to shield his eyes as the world he knew was stripped away.
Or rather, he felt as if he was falling down, even though he knew that he wasn't moving.
When the sensation of falling finally subsided and he regained his vision, the biting frost of the Northern Continent had been replaced by a heavy, humid stillness.
He stood in the center of a clearing within a dark, ancient forest.
The trees here were titanic, their bark gnarled like the skin of prehistoric saurians, and their leaves were a deep, bruised purple that seemed to absorb what little light filtered down from a stagnant, emerald sky.
Haoran remained perfectly still, his arms crossed over his chest, his golden eyes scanning the trees, or rather, the entire surroundings.
"...these are... Dragon Scaled Oak Tree? Never knew they still exists. They have been extinct in Prime Origin Realm for nearly a hundred thousand years."
"...and that flower, a Sun Kissed Daisy? They have also been extinct for ten thousand years."
"And that one..."
Haoran was actually surprised by the floras of this realm, after all, almost all of them were already extinct.
Although they weren't necessarily great for Cultivation, it was still a good decorations.
Some seniors who are into these stuffs wold pay quite the hefty sum for these extinct flora species.
Shaking his head, he went to one of the trees and leaned back on it as he waited for several minutes... but the space around him remained silent.
There was no ripple of light, no sign of Ling Luochen or Shangguan Mu'er, or even any other people who entered.
"...A randomized spatial displacement, perhaps?" Haoran murmured, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the oppressive quiet. "The gateway was designed to scatter participants. A classic tactic to prevent groups from dominating the trials through sheer numbers."
Suddenly, the air itself began to vibrate, and a deep, majestic voice, carrying the weight of eons and the sharpness of a thousand blades, echoed throughout the entire realm, resonating not in the ears, but directly within the souls of those who had entered.
[I am the Heaven Piercing Saint! You have entered the final resting place of the man who defied the stars. You are now within my trial grounds; if you wish to advance and claim what I have left behind, you must first prove your strength! The weak have no place in my lineage. Hunt down as many demonic beasts as you can within one hour and present their cores at the central altar. Only the ten individuals who slay the most shall pass to the next stage. Be warned: the quality and rank of the beasts will weigh more heavily than mere numbers. Begin!]
With a final, booming resonance that caused the purple leaves to shiver, the voice vanished, leaving a lingering hum in the atmosphere.
"Heaven Piercing Saint?" Haoran's brow furrowed, a flicker of genuine recognition crossing his face. "So, this is where that old ghost ended up. The man who dominated his era and suppressed his peers to the point they couldn't even raise their heads, three hundred thousand years ago."
Haoran remembered the history books within the Shen Clan's Library, and also since it was taught to every member of the Shen Clan.
This is about Heaven Piercing Saint, who was a legendary figure, a rogue cultivator of such immense talent that the Shen Clan—usually dismissive of "outsiders"—had actually extended a formal invitation for him to become a High Enshrined Elder.
But he had refused with a scoff, famously claiming he would rather be a free dog than a golden bird in a Shen cage, completely offending them.
But the offense was intolerable to the Shen Clan of that era, so they had dispatched a Supreme Emperor to "reclaim the face of the clan" and execute the upstart.
The battle that followed was a cataclysm that had rewritten the geography of three star systems.
But against all logic, the Heaven Piercing Saint, despite being a rank lower, had managed to escape, no, he hadn't just fled; he had traded life-force for a forbidden strike that slew the Shen Clan's Supreme Emperor on the spot!
This shook the entire realm back then, as for the first time since recorded history, a Saint had killed a Supreme from the Shen Clan!
Let it be known that the Shen Clan possessed one of the most complete cultivation techniques and knowledge, both theoretical and practical passed down since time immemorial!
It has always been the Shen clan who skips ranks to kill opponents who are at a higher realm, not the other way around!
It was one of the greatest humiliations in the millions of years of Shen history, so much so that rven now, three hundred thousand years later, the clan's spite remained fresh.
In every major city within the Shen Domain, a statue of that fallen Supreme was erected in the public squares—not out of honor, but so that every passing clan member could slap the stone face and vent their anger on the "failure" who lost to a mere Saint.
"...The Shen Clan never forgets, and they certainly never forgive. In other words, we are incredibly petty." Haoran mused, rubbing his chin as he looked up at the emerald canopy. "Still, to think he fell and hid his secret realm here, in a corner of the Saint Burial Realm. Heh, if I hadn't descended, Jiang Chen would have stumbled upon this place. He would have inherited the techniques of the man who had once killed a Shen's Supreme. The heavens really do love their irony."
He began to walk deeper into the forest, his pace leisurely yet deliberate.
His excitement was palpable, after all,the inheritance of a Saint capable of slaying a Supreme Emperor of the Shen Clan was infinitely more valuable than the dusty scrolls of the Bright Silver Emperor.
It was a power that allowed even a rouge Cultivator to step on the head of a Shen Clan's Supreme, and he intended to be the one to own it.
*
In a separate region of the forest, where the trees were choked by thorny, black vines, Ling Luochen stood her ground.
Before her, a Golden-Toothed Winged Tiger paced in a low crouch.
The beast was a nightmare of evolution, its fur shimmering with metallic scales and its fangs glowing with a sickly, necrotic yellow light.
It was a demonic beast at the peak of the Core Formation realm, its aura thick with a predatory hunger.
The tiger let out a roar that shredded the nearby foliage, its wings unfurling to reveal serrated edges.
Ling Luochen didn't flinch. She reached into her storage ring and drew her sword—a slender, single-edged blade of exquisite white jade-steel that seemed to hum in anticipation.
She didn't adopt a standard defensive stance. Instead, she stood straight, her blood-red eyes reflecting the beast's rage.
Suddenly, the tribal tattoo on her back erupted with a violent purple light as the air behind her warped and curdled, manifesting a towering, phantom image of an Asura.
The purple-skinned, demon-like entity possessed three heads—one weeping, one laughing, and one snarling—and six massive arms that mirrored her movements.
"If you wish to feast upon my flesh, little cat, you should have brought a Nascent Soul pack leader with you," Luochen said, her voice dropping into a chilling, demonic register.
As the tiger lunged, a blur of purple and silver, Luochen moved.
She just simply swing her sword, and the Asura behind her struck with six spectral blades simultaneously.
The forest was silenced by the sound of rending meat and shattering bone.
*
*
*
Elsewhere, near a black-watered lake that smelled of sulfur, Shangguan Mu'er walked through a literal carpet of gore.
She was surrounded by the carcasses of dozens of demonic beasts—beaked serpents, armored boars, and multi-eyed wolves.
In her hand, she held a pitch-black sword that seemed to be alive as she stood amidst the carnage, the blade emitted a low, rhythmic thrumming, like a heartbeat.
Tendrils of dark crimson mist rose from the fallen beasts, flowing toward the sword; it was drinking their blood!
No, it wasn't just drinking their blood; the very muscle and marrow of the demonic creatures were being unnaturally withered, their essence stripped away and absorbed into the black steel!
This is a method used by every demonic cultivators!
Shangguan Mu'er let out a long, weary sigh of disappointment as she flicked the blade, sending a spray of useless, grey ash—all that remained of a Rank 3 and 4 beast—into the wind.
"The blood of these low-tier demonic beasts is thin and bitter," she murmured, her Bluish-silver hair catching the emerald light. "It provides no satisfaction for my blade's thirst at all. Perhaps this trial would be more efficient if I simply hunted the other participants. Human essence is always so much... richer."
She looked toward the center of the forest, her eyes cold.
She wasn't here for the inheritance or whatever, instead she was here to serve her Young Master, but if she could feed her blade along the way, she wouldn't hesitate.
*
*
*
Deep in the frozen sector of the secret realm, where the ancient forest was encased in permafrost, Xue Bing'er stood alone.
Seven Frost-Bite Dire Wolves circled her, their eyes glowing with a feral blue intelligence.
They growled, their breath turning into jagged icicles in the air.
Xue Bing'er didn't even reach for a weapon as she simply stood with her arms crossed, her light blue hair fluttering in the unnatural wind.
With a casual flick of her wrist, she whispered a single syllable.
Instantly, the moisture in the air for a fifty-meter radius crystallized.
The wolves didn't have time to yelp as they were almost instantly frozen solid mid-growl, turned into exquisite, terrifying statues of ice.
The trees, the ground, and even the falling leaves were encased in a foot of diamond-hard frost.
Xue Bing'er walked forward, her boots clicking softly on the frozen ground, and as she passed the first wolf, she lightly tapped the ice with her knuckle.
SHATTER.
The frozen beast disintegrated into a million crystalline shards, followed by the others in a rhythmic chain reaction of destruction.
She didn't stop to check her work as she continued walking toward the golden light in the distance, her expression as indifferent as the winter she commanded.
To her, these "trials" were merely a distraction from the true objective.
Chapter 103: Chapter 103: Trials
The atmosphere in the dark, ancient forest of the Heaven Piercing Saint's trial grounds was thick with the copper tang of blood and the heavy, humid scent of decaying vegetation.
For the participants, every shadow seemed to hide a predator, and every rustle of the purple leaves was a harbinger of death.
At this moment, in the outskirts of the foresr, Jiang Chen wiped a smear of dark, foul-smelling sap from his cheek as he stood over the splintered remains of a Dearh Demon Tree.
This Rank 2 Demonic Beast, which possessed the strength of a high-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator, had attempted to ensnare him with its necrotic vines, only to be sliced apart by Jiang Chen's precise, soul-tempered strikes.
He reached into the shattered trunk and pulled out a pulsing, murky green orb—the Beast Core.
In the world of Cultivation, a Beast Core was the absolute condensed essence of a demonic creature's life.
Unlike humans, who often distributed their Qi throughout their meridians and Dantian, demonic beasts were driven by a more primal, concentrated form of evolution.
Once they reached the Qi Gathering realm, they began the arduous process of compressing their vast, wild energy into a singular, solid core.
This gave them an explosive power and physical durability that far surpassed most human cultivators of the same rank.
In fact, Jiang Chen recalled from an ancient lore he had read from an ancient stone tablet in Shen Clan Library saying that in the primordial dawn of cultivation, before the current system of Qi Cultivation were perfected, it was a legendary human ancestor who had survived by observing the internal structures of primordial beasts.
By mimicking the way a beast formed its core, that ancestor had discovered the secret to breaking through the limits of the mortal flesh, paving the way for a Foundation Establishment expert to breakthrough to Core Formation and Golden Core realms that defined the modern era.
"Heh," Jiang Chen muttered, a cold, triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he stored the emerald core into his storage ring. "As I expected, the age restriction did not apply to me, as despite my soul age, I was able to enter here, and that Shen clan dog guarding the gates, that woman who thinks she is so high and mighty, didn't even notice a shadow passing her by. I truly am favored by the heavens."
With his confidence renewed, he adjusted his tattered brown cloak and vanished into the depths of the forest, his movements silent and predatory.
After all, right now, he was a shark in a pond of minnows, or so he believed.
*
*
*
Miles away, in a sector of the forest that had become a literal slaughterhouse, Shen Haoran walked with a casual, rhythmic pace.
He didn't look like a man in a life-or-death trial; he looked like a nobleman taking a stroll through his private hunting grounds.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent a spray of dark blood flying from a massive Beast Core he held in his hand.
The gore splattered against a gnarled tree trunk, but not a single drop touched his midnight-blue robes.
"Hmm, this should be about enough to satisfy the old Saint's requirements," Haoran said, his voice calm and melodic.
He then tossed the core over his shoulder into his storage space with an air of boredom.
Behind him, the scene was one of apocalyptic carnage as literal mountains of corpses—scaled, feathered, and furred beasts—piled up like macabre hills.
Rivers of thick, multicolored blood flowed between the roots of the giant trees, pooling in the hollows of the earth.
Even some Rank 5 beasts that were supposed to be the terrors of this forest lay in pieces, their legendary hides torn like wet parchment.
As he walked deeper toward the center of the realm, Haoran noticed a peculiar change.
The constant snarling, growling, and rustling of beasts that had characterized his first thirty minutes had vanished.
Now, the entire forest was shrouded by silence, broken only by the soft crunch of his boots on the leaf litter.
"Hmm, how strange," Haoran mused, rubbing his chin. "It seems the local wildlife has suddenly developed a sense of self-preservation. Perhaps there are no more demonic beasts in this designated sector, or... more likely, the stench of the hundreds of beasts I've slaughtered has finally reached their primitive noses. Hm, the aura of death must be terrifying them into hiding."
He didn't think too much about it. If the beasts were too afraid to show their faces, it was simply less of a nuisance for him, after all he preferred the quiet; it allowed him to better sense the lingering ripples of the Heaven Piercing Saint's intent that permeated the air.
After a short while, he arrived at the geographical center of the trial grounds.
There, rising from a bed of silver-glowing moss, stood an ancient, ruined altar.
It was crafted from weathered basalt, covered in creeping vines that pulsed with a faint, rhythmic light.
It looked like a relic of a forgotten age, yet the power it radiated was undeniable.
Without hesitation, Haoran stood before the altar and opened his storage ring, and a literal flood of Beast Cores erupted from the ring, cascading onto the stone surface.
The altar reacted instantly and a hum vibrated through the ground, before a pillar of white light shot up from the stone, vaporizing the pile of cores as it calculated their value.
Moments later, the light faded, and massive, glowing golden characters began to manifest in the emerald sky, visible to every living soul within the secret realm.
1. 78 Rank 3 Beasts, 32 Rank 4 Beasts, 19 Rank 5 Beasts!
As these words blazed across the heavens, the entire forest seemed to hold its breath as throughout the realm, every participant—from the elite disciples of the Ice God Palace to the rogue cultivators hiding in the bushes—froze on the spot.
Their necks craned upward, their eyes widening in a mixture of disbelief and pure, unadulterated shock.
Rank 3 beasts were the equivalent of Core Formation experts and Rank 5 beasts were the equivalent of Nascent Soul sovereigns.
In this lower realm, a single Rank 5 beast could flatten a kingdom! They represent the pinnacle of power that this realm can accommodate!
To kill nineteen of them, along with dozens of others, in less than an hour was not just "powerful"—it was a feat of a god!
"Who... who is this monster?" a participant whispered, his legs giving out.
Jiang Chen, standing miles away, stared at the sky.
The golden light reflected in his eyes, but instead of awe, he felt a crushing, familiar weight in his chest as a cold sweat broke out on his brow.
Even in his prime as a Sword Venerable, he knew the difficulty of hunting demonic beasts, in fact, he himself knew that he would struggle fighting, much less killing a demonic beasts that of a higher realm than him.
After all, they were inherently superior to humans in physical prowess and raw energy.
In fact, to defeat a beast of the same level was already the mark of a genius, praised by the elders for having superior martial prowess than others of the same level!
He gritted his teeth, and despite how he didn't see the face of the person who is the first one to submit his hunt, for some reason, an instinctual, bitter certainty took hold of him.
'It has to be that Shen dog.' Jiang Chen clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white, the resentment burning like acid in his veins.
'Yes, after all, he has those absurd weapons with him! He must've used them to hunt! What a disgrace!'
He made an excuse, after all, his dao heart would surely collapse if he admits that a literal child in his eyes was so much better than him, who had lived for hundreds of years.
*
*
*
Back at the ruined altar, Shen Haoran stared up at the sky, watching the golden words fade.
He didn't look proud; he looked slightly annoyed that the altar had made such a public spectacle of his minimal effort.
Hw then stared at the back of his hand, where the number one was engraved.
Just then, two figures emerged from the dense treeline.
They are Ling Luochen and Shangguan Mu'er.
They stepped into the clearing, their clothes remarkably clean despite the nature of the trial.
"Young Master Shen," they greeted in unison, bowing their heads.
Haoran nodded toward them, gesturing to the altar. "You've arrived. Throw the cores you've collected into the altar, your ranks will them be displayed as shown in the sky."
The two women nodded.
Ling Luochen stepped forward first, her blood-red eyes fixed on the altar as she emptied her storage ring, and a significant pile of high-quality cores clattering onto the basalt.
Shangguan Mu'er followed suit, her expression one of cold indifference as she deposited her own haul.
The altar glowed again, twice in rapid succession as the golden characters in the sky shifted, updating the leaderboard for all to see:
2. 71 Rank 3 Beasts, 29 Rank 4 Beasts, 18 Rank 5 Beasts.
3. 178 Rank 2 Beasts, 97 Rank 3 Beasts, 1 Rank 4 Beasts.
The disparity between the first two ranks and the third was immense, yet the third rank was still a testament to Ling Luochen's relentless efficiency.
Ling Luochen stared at the back of her hand, where the number 3 was engraved, while a number 2 was engraved on Shangguan Mu'er.
Haoran stared at the sky, deep in thought.
"Seven spots left," he murmured, his eyes narrowing. "Let's see if the 'favored' child can even make the list."
Chapter 104: Chapter 104: The Second Trial
The humid, emerald-tinted air of the central clearing seemed to ripple with the sheer density of the qi emanating from the three figures standing by the basalt altar.
Shen Haoran leaned back against a gnarled, purple-leafed tree, his golden eyes drifting toward Ling Luochen
The leaderboard in the sky still pulsed with a dominant light, and he couldn't help but feel a flicker of genuine interest in the girl's progress.
"I'm impressed," Haoran said, his voice smooth and carrying a weight of rare approval. "You actually managed to hunt a Rank 4 beast. That is equivalent to a human cultivator at the Golden Core realm. For someone at the peak of Foundation Establishment to bring down such a creature is no small feat. Not to mention demonic beasts are far stronger than humans at the same level."
Ling Luochen, however, did not puff out her chest with pride. Instead, she lowered her head slightly, her blood-red eyes reflecting a modest, grounded reality as she shook her head gently. "It was all luck, young master. I do not wish to claim a glory I haven't fully earned with strength alone. That beast—a Silver-Haired Crag Ape—was already injured and dying from a previous territorial dispute. I only used hit-and-run guerrilla tactics to reopen its wounds and exhaust it to death. If it had been at full strength, I would have likely been the one fleeing."
"In the path of cultivation, luck is a form of strength in itself," Haoran countered, his gaze unwavering. "Knowing when to strike a weakened foe and having the patience to bleed them out shows a tactical mind. That is still very impressive. Well done."
Ling Luochen stared at Haoran, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. A soft, rare smile touched her lips, and a faint tint of pink colored her cheeks.
"...Thank you for the compliment, young master. I will strive to be more worthy of it in the next stage."
"Hm." Haoran nodded.
Just then...
"Someone's coming," Shangguan Mu'er interrupted, her voice like cold silk as her Nascent Soul senses had already picked up the frantic vibrations of footsteps approaching the clearing.
Just then, a young man emerged from the dense foliage.
He was covered in mud and gasping for air, his robes torn to ribbons, but the moment his eyes landed on Shen Haoran's group—standing there with such terrifying composure—he was paralyzed by a visceral dread.
His first instinct was to turn and flee back into the shadows, but the ticking clock of the trial forced him to swallow his terror.
He cupped his hands in respect towards Haoran and the others as he stumbled toward the altar, his hands trembling as he offered his meager collection of cores.
Haoran watched the youth's frantic movements with clinical indifference before turning back to his companions. "There's only a few minutes left in the hour. The pretenders have been weeded out by the beasts. Only those who are truly confident they've passed should be heading here right now."
As if on cue, the forest began to disgorge more survivors.
At first, it was a trickle, then a steady stream of dozens of cultivators.
Just like the first young man, they all experienced a moment of heart-stopping fear when they saw the three standing by the altar.
However, seeing that there was one person there and that Haoran made no move to attack them, they calmed themselves and hurried to register their kills.
Haoran observed each one with a predatory focus, his mind searching for one specific presence.
'Where is he?' he wondered. 'Hm, as the protagonist, surely he'd arrive when the time is about to end, right? Typical.'
At that moment, a larger group arrived—several dozen cultivators from the Northern sects, including some elite disciples of the Sky Water Sect.
This group showed significantly less fear; the safety in numbers and the presence of so many others already at the altar gave them a false sense of security.
They jostled for position, desperate to secure a spot in the top ten.
At the very back of this bustling crowd, a man wearing a tattered, mud-stained cloak walked with a silent, ghost-like gait.
His whole face was shrouded by a deep hood, and he kept his head lowered, blending perfectly into the shadows of the larger group.
He didn't radiate power, as if he was trying his best to remain as ordinary as possible and avoid any attention.
However, for Haoran, that act of purposely hiding oneself is the brightest beacon you can light.
He stared at the hooded figure and smirked, before turning his gaze away in amusement.
Time ticked away.
The frantic energy at the altar began to reach a fever pitch, and as more high-quality cores were turned in, the leaderboard shifted violently.
People who thought they were safe at number eight or nine suddenly found themselves pushed off the list, letting out curses of despair and frustration.
Even Ling Luochen was not immune to the competition.
A series of powerful entries pushed her down the ranks until she settled at the number five spot.
The person who had surged into the number three position, just below Haoran and Mu'er, was Xue Bing'er, who had arrived with a cold aura and a mountain of frozen cores.
Eventually, the crowd thinned until only the man in the cloak remained.
He stepped up to the altar with a deliberate, slow movement as he reached into his cloak and poured a massive quantity of low-level cores into the basin.
As the light flared and absorbed the cores, the golden words in the emerald sky flickered and updated one last time.
10. 718 Rank 1 Beasts, 331 Rank 2 Beasts.
It was a sheer quantity play.
While he hadn't hunted high-ranking monsters, the sheer volume of his kills was enough to squeeze into the final slot.
Instantly, a glowing number '10' manifested on the back of the cloaked man's hand.
BOOM!
Just then, a thunderous sound, like a gong struck by a god, echoed throughout the entire secret realm, silencing the wind and the forest.
"The first trial is complete! Those who have secured a rank shall be transported to the Inner Sanctum. Those who have failed... begone from my realm!"
Shen Haoran felt the number '1' on the back of his hand begin to glow with a searing heat as the world around him began to dissolve into a kaleidoscope of light.
He looked around and saw that Ling Luochen, Mu'er, and the others were experiencing the same phenomenon; some of the weaker cultivators were panicking, reaching out into the void as their bodies turned translucent.
Haoran merely crossed his arms and closed his eyes, his breathing steady.
Then, he felt a sudden, weightless sensation, as if he were floating through a sea of stars.
This lasted for several minutes, and when his boots finally touched solid ground again, the humid forest was gone.
At this moment, he found himself standing on the cold, grey stone of a massive, circular arena.
The ceiling was lost in a swirling vortex of golden clouds, and the walls were lined with towering statues of warriors holding spears.
Beside him stood the other nine survivors, including the cold Xue Bing'er and the 'mysterious' cloaked man.
Just then, he majestic voice boomed once more, now sounding more expectant, more lethal.
"The Second Trial: The Duel of Fate! In the path to the peak, there is only room for the strongest. From the ten of you, only five shall pass. Your opponents have been chosen by the threads of destiny, dictated by the numbers upon your hands!"
Suddenly, massive golden numbers materialized in the air above the arena floor.
FIRST BATTLE: NUMBER 1 VS NUMBER 4!
Shen Haoran didn't wait for a second invitation as he leaped onto the elevated center of the arena with a single, effortless motion.
He didn't even bother looking at the entrance for Number 4. For him, in this lower realm, an opponent was simply an obstacle to be cleared, regardless of their name or sect.
Although, he did felt a minor twinge of disappointment that it wasn't the cloaked man—Jiang Chen—but he pushed it aside.
The inheritance is the priority. He can flay that rat after he is done with this.
Just then, the ground vibrated as a massive figure jumped into the arena. It was a giant of a man, standing at least 250cm tall.
His upper body was bare, revealing muscles that looked like knotted iron cables, and his bald head caught the golden light of the clouds.
He carried a heavy, spiked mace that looked like it weighed as much as a mountain.
Haoran scanned him. Peak of the Golden Core realm. A physical cultivator. High vitality, low agility.
"I am Nuo—" the giant began, his voice deep and booming as he prepared to announce his lineage.
"Let's just get this over with," Haoran interrupted, letting out a small, bored sigh.
He didn't even draw his sword, simply standing with his hands tucked into his sleeves.
"START!" the Saint's voice roared.
The giant Nuo let out a guttural scream, his muscles bulging as he swung the massive mace, the air whistling with the force of a hurricane as he charged toward the small, midnight-blue figure of Shen Haoran.