Day three inside the Ancient Spirit Realm.
In a quiet valley surrounded by cliffs and mist, Ye Chen sat cross-legged beneath a sloping rock wall. His breathing was slow and deep, his aura steady and vast. Streams of faint spiritual energy gathered around him in swirling spirals, forming a silent resonance with the world.
This place was called the Spirit Spring Hollow—a secluded spot once used by ancient cultivators for secluded meditation. Though the spirit veins had long since fractured, the lingering spiritual essence here was ten times richer than in the outer regions. Ordinary warriors would never sense it, but Ye Chen, with his cultivated divine sense, had tracked its faint fluctuations straight to the source.
Mist drifted through the valley. A spring trickled gently past mossy stones.
Within Ye Chen's spiritual sea, a silver-white sword slowly took shape. Its form was pure and translucent, like a sword carved from moonlight. A mystical rune emerged along its blade, and though no edge was visible, its aura was sharp enough to slice bone.
—His spirit sword had taken form.
Ye Chen opened his eyes slowly, their clarity piercing.
With a slight gesture, the sword hovered upward, buzzing faintly, then floated in mid-air before him. It circled him once, humming lightly, as if it had a mind of its own.
"To nourish the sword with soul… To temper it with essence… This is the path of true cultivation."
He lifted a finger and pointed.
The spirit sword shot forward, vanishing into a streak of light. Thirty feet away, a large stone split cleanly in two—the cut surface as smooth as glass. No visible energy burst. No wave of force.
Just pure, lethal precision.
"This… is power," he murmured.
Ye Chen turned his gaze toward the distant mountains. His divine sense had already detected increased energy fluctuations throughout the realm. Trials were reaching their climax. Factions were beginning to collide.
At that moment, the spirit sword trembled. Its rune pulsed softly—as if resonating with something far away.
Ye Chen frowned slightly.
He closed his eyes. Within his spiritual sea, waves of light rippled outward. Amid the resonance, he sensed a faint pull—a distant, broken energy signature.
"…A fragment of a spirit source?"
His gaze sharpened.
"So, the true core of this trial is finally beginning to reveal itself."
Meanwhile, in the northern region of the realm…
A young man in blue robes was sprinting through the forest when he abruptly stopped and turned his head toward the distant valley.
"That energy… it wasn't battle force. And it wasn't magic, either…"
His expression grew grim.
"Could the rumors be true? The Seventh Prince… isn't a waste after all?"
In the Royal Observation Hall outside the trial
As Ye Chen's sword fully materialized, the surface of the realm rippled. A wave of spiritual essence pulsed outward. Elder mages and formation masters raised their heads in surprise.
Several ancient observers turned toward the image projected in the central viewing crystal.
"That fluctuation…" murmured one elder."It's not battle aura. It's not magic."
Another nodded solemnly. "His divine sense is stable. His energy pure. His sword carries no impurities. This boy… may come from an older, forgotten path."
"This level of resonance hasn't appeared in royal blood for generations."
Atop the throne, King Ye Yao narrowed his eyes.
On the screen, the image showed Ye Chen standing tall in white robes, hands behind his back, the spirit sword floating beside him like a silent sentinel.
For a long time, the king said nothing.
Then, in a low voice, he murmured:
"Ye Chen… just what are you hiding?"
Elsewhere—in a shaded canyon in the southern region of the trial
Fourth Prince Ye Chengyu sat on a large stone outcrop, surrounded by over a dozen young elites: alchemy disciples, royal retainers, and noble heirs. All of them radiated dense battle aura. These were the core talents of the capital.
"You've all seen what the Seventh Prince did, haven't you?" Ye Chengyu asked quietly.
His tone was calm—but full of cold pressure.
No one spoke.
After a moment, Feng Qi, who had been humiliated earlier, gritted his teeth and said, "He's… not simple."
"I didn't ask for your opinion," Ye Chengyu replied, voice icy."I want results."
"I want him dead—right here in this realm."
The silence deepened.
"Understood," someone finally said.
"Send men to probe him. If we can lure him into formation range, trap him with the Ten-Thousand Poison Soul-Locking Array."
"If he resists—kill him."
"And if you can't kill him…" Ye Chengyu's eyes gleamed coldly.
"I'll do it myself."