The sky cracked.
Not metaphorically — the very fabric of the heavens split apart like torn cloth, unleashing a roar that silenced every living creature in a hundred-mile radius.
Van Thien Phong stood frozen.
The last thing he saw was Bach Tieu Nhien's silhouette being consumed by the black fissure, her outstretched hand disappearing into the void as if the world itself had stolen her away.
"No…!"
His voice was raw, not with fear — but with rage.
The ground trembled beneath his feet. Red lightning veined across the scorched earth, crackling with violent, uncontrolled qi. Phong's power, no longer calm and refined, was slipping into chaos. Even Minh, standing twenty steps away, could feel it — the air turning razor sharp, heavy with fury.
"Phong! Pull it back!" Minh yelled. "You'll burn your core!"
But Phong didn't answer. His eyes glowed crimson — not from cultivation, but from something darker.
Loss.
She was taken right in front of him — and he was powerless to stop it.
Then, the fissure in the sky stopped widening. The swirling blackness calmed… and something stepped through.
A figure, cloaked in shadow, face hidden behind a smooth bone-white mask. No aura. No footsteps. No breath. Yet the air around him distorted, as if the world itself recoiled at his presence.
He didn't walk — he simply appeared.
Minh's blood ran cold. "What the hell is that…"
Phong straightened. His wounds hissed with qi, slowly sealing as his rage fueled recovery. "You're the one who took her?"
The masked figure said nothing.
Then — like a flicker of smoke — he vanished.
And reappeared, inches from Phong's face.
"You don't have the right to ask questions," the figure whispered.
His voice wasn't a voice. It was an echo from the abyss, layered and distorted, like a thousand tormented souls speaking in unison.
Phong reacted instantly. He swung a fist wrapped in golden-black qi — straight for the figure's mask.
But it passed through nothing.
The figure had sidestepped effortlessly. No afterimage. No sound.
Before Phong could react again, a skeletal hand wrapped in darkness touched his chest — gently. Almost... like a curse.
And then everything went wrong.
The golden qi inside him buckled. It screamed. It rebelled. For the first time since stepping into cultivation, Phong's inner world cracked. Memories flooded his mind — not his own. Nightmares. Pain. Death. He fell to one knee, coughing blood.
Minh rushed forward. "STOP!" he roared, hurling a wave of azure flame toward the masked figure.
The figure merely looked at it — and the fire died midair.
"Too weak," the figure murmured.
Minh didn't care. He charged anyway.
A mistake.
With a single flick of his finger, the figure cast a shadow that impaled Minh mid-stride — not through flesh, but through spirit. Minh screamed as the qi inside him fractured, his dantian spiraling into chaos. He collapsed, twitching, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Phong stood again. Barely.
"You took her," he said, voice hoarse.
The figure tilted its head. "She belongs to the other side now. The Trial has begun."
Phong's breath caught.
The Trial.
A forbidden realm spoken of only in hushed whispers — where cultivators were either reforged into gods or shattered into dust.
"Why her?" he asked.
"Because fate chose her. And fate fears you, Phong."
The figure raised a hand. The sky pulsed. Black feathers fell from nowhere, hissing as they touched the ground.
"Soon," it whispered, fading into the fissure. "You'll follow. Whether you're ready or not."
Then the sky closed.
Silence.
Phong fell to his knees. Not from defeat, but from fury so immense it crushed the bones within him.
He looked at Minh's limp body. Then at the sky.
And in that moment, something inside Van Thien Phong changed.
He was no longer just a man seeking power.
He was a hunter.
A shadow moving toward war.
A villain the heavens themselves would regret crossing.
But it didn't end there.
Hours passed. The battlefield remained scorched, lifeless. Phong dug a shallow shelter for Minh, shielding his unconscious friend from the harsh winds that now blew in from the north. Then, alone, he meditated. Not to heal, but to remember. To memorize the figure's aura — or rather, its absence. That sensation of void.
In the silence of the desert night, a memory returned — a tale he once heard from a dying cultivator in the underworld:
"Beware the ones without fate. They are not bound by Heaven's will. They hunt in shadow, and when they strike, the world forgets what was taken."
The figure was not just a guardian of the Trial — he was one of the Shadow Hunters, agents of balance, or perhaps chaos. No one knew. But they were said to appear only when a cultivator was too dangerous. Too uncontrollable. Too... important.
And now, they had taken Bach Tieu Nhien.
The heavens had made their move.
Now, it was Phong's turn.
He opened his eyes, voice low:
"Send your Hunters. Send your Judges. I'll walk through fire and crush them all."
A shadow passed over the moon.
And Van Thien Phong stood up.
But far from there, in the heart of a realm untouched by mortal time, Bach Tieu Nhien opened her eyes. She was not chained, not wounded — but her body felt heavy, burdened by unfamiliar energy.
She lay on an obsidian platform, floating above a sea of stars. Around her stood nine colossal statues, each one shaped like a long-forgotten god. They pulsed with ancient qi.
Then — a voice echoed inside her mind.
"Chosen One. Welcome to the Trial of Providence."
Her heart pounded. "Where am I? Who brought me here?"
"You have been selected. Your bond with the Villain King has disrupted the balance. You must be tested."
She tried to rise, but her limbs resisted.
"Pass the Trial… or become nothing."
And with that, the platform shattered.
She fell — screaming — into a sky made of fire and memory.
Meanwhile, Phong felt it.
He clutched his chest.
A thread — invisible but real — connected their souls.
She was alive.
And so was his wrath.
[End of Chapter 28]