The air grew heavier as the chamber rumbled faintly, each vibration thrumming into their bones. The crystalline walls glowed with an inner pulse, like the heartbeat of something vast and timeless.
A figure of light gradually coalesced within the central dais. It wasn't a complete body, but rather the phantom outline of a grand cultivator, his robes woven of starlight, his face blurred by age and distance. His eyes, however, were clear—piercing like twin lanterns in the void.
"Two juniors… stepping into my resting ground." His voice resounded, neither hostile nor warm, but carrying the weight of judgment. "Your fates intertwine, but your hearts differ. One is childish yet hides dominance… the other bears the burden of shackles far greater than he knows."
Huan Tao froze, his usually brash demeanor melting away. His hand instinctively tightened on his sword, but she dared not raise it.
Tian Jue, on the other hand, stood calmly, his newly tempered physique emanating a faint aura of stability. The silver lines on his skin shimmered, responding faintly to the presence.
The phantom's gaze lingered on Tian Jue, and for a moment, the entire chamber quaked.
"You… boy. Your body carries the resonance of Nine Shackles, yet you cultivate as if you wish to tear them apart. Tell me, what is it that you seek within this inheritance?"
The question wasn't casual—it was a trial in itself. The aura pressed down, suffocating, testing the clarity of Tian Jue's Dao heart.
Huan Tao glanced nervously at him, whispering, "Brother Tian… answer carefully…!"
But Tian Jue only lowered his gaze slightly, his tone steady:
"I seek strength—not for glory, nor to trample others, but to walk forward despite the curse shackling me. To protect what I have left… and reclaim what was stolen."
The phantom fell silent. Then, slowly, it turned to Huan Tao.
"And you, child of dual faces? Why do you tread these grounds? Is it greed… or is it the mask you wear finally slipping?"
Huan Tao trembled, his childish façade nowhere to be seen now. For the first time, his dominating aura surfaced fully, his eyes sharp as blades.
"I walk here not for greed, but for freedom. At the sect, I wear a fool's mask to protect myself from envy. But in the forest, and here before you, I am who I truly am. If the world calls me naïve, so be it—those who threaten what I value will know otherwise."
The presence chuckled, low and deep, like distant thunder.
"Interesting… very interesting. Both of you are worthy to step further. Yet worthiness alone is nothing—only those who withstand my Awakening Trial may touch my legacy."
The dais erupted with light, forming two opposing paths of trial: one of crushing physical force, the other of illusory Dao-heart temptation.
The phantom's voice echoed:
"Choose, young ones. Will you brave the path that matches your nature… or the one that defies it?"
Got it — here's the continuation where Tian Jue and Huan Tao are forced onto separate paths by the inheritance ground:
The trembling in the cavern grew heavier, a pulse like the beating of an ancient heart shaking the air. The glowing patterns beneath their feet surged with brilliance, splitting into two diverging rivers of light.
"Two destinies… only one trial per path."
The awakening presence's voice reverberated in their minds, heavy with authority and impossible to resist.
Before Tian Jue could speak, the luminous current rose like a barrier wall, dividing him and Huan Tao. The air grew thick, each breath a test of will.
Huan Tao blinked in shock, his childish panic flashing for a moment.
"W–Wait! Tian Jue! I didn't agree to splitting up! This looks bad, really bad!"
But then, almost immediately, her persona shifted. Her spine straightened, her eyes sharpened like a drawn blade. The dominating aura of his cultivation technique poured out, fierce and protective.
"I'll make it through. Don't you dare fall behind, Tian Jue."
Tian Jue met his gaze calmly, a faint smile tugging his lips. Childish, gullible, reckless… yet when it matters, he's like a war spear.
"You'd better not slack, Huan Tao. I don't intend to carry you out of here."
The floor surged again, and the light swept them into separate tunnels.
Tian Jue's Path
The corridor around him twisted into darkness, faint runes pulsing like veins on stone walls. His newly tempered physique thrummed under the pressure; every step made his bones hum, his muscles tighten, as though the place itself tested his flesh rather than his spirit.
A voice echoed:
"Bearer of the cursed flesh… Show me if your body can withstand the weight of the stars."
Tian Jue steadied his breath, muscles glowing faintly as the transformation pill's disguise flickered around his features. He clenched his fist, veins like molten iron beneath skin, and walked forward into crushing gravity that threatened to grind even steel into powder.
Huan Tao's Path
Meanwhile, Huan Tao's tunnel blazed with phantom lights, each forming illusions of vast armies. His cultivation technique — domineering, battle-hardened — resonated with the challenge. His childish nature faltered, replaced by a sharp, unyielding command.
"Line up, you bastards. If this is a trial of war, then I'll lead."
The illusions obeyed, moving like soldiers under his command, as if the trial tested his will to dominate, to lead, and to earn allegiance.
Far above, the awakening presence murmured, its vast mind watching both youths.
"One walks the path of body defiance. One walks the path of command. Which will endure? Which will crumble? Let fate decide…"
The fog around Tian Jue thickened until even the faintest outline of the inheritance chamber vanished. The carved walls dissolved, replaced by a boundless expanse of shifting light and shadow. A voice rumbled in his mind, neither male nor female, deep yet formless:
"Trial One — the Path of Body."
Tian Jue's eyes narrowed, and he clenched his fists.
(So, it really is a physique-oriented inheritance ground. This whole place is testing whether I can endure the road of flesh and marrow refinement. How fitting… My body has always been my foundation, even more than qi. But why do I feel like it's not testing strength alone?)
The ground beneath him morphed into a vast arena of jagged stone. Waves of crushing gravity pressed down, layer after layer. Each breath grew heavier, his bones groaning. His reinforced constitution withstood it — but he could feel the intent of the trial.
(It's not just weight… it's probing how far my body can go without shattering. It wants to see if I'll fold, or if I'll force myself to adapt. This is like the heavens themselves asking: Do you deserve a body that can stand against tribulation?)
From the fog, armored giants emerged — towering beings of stone and metal, each one pulsing with the oppressive aura of pure physique cultivation. No qi arts, no techniques, only raw strength. Their eyes glowed faintly as they locked onto Tian Jue.
He exhaled slowly, shifting into stance. His muscles coiled like a bowstring.
(This trial is dangerous, but… it also excites me. I've fought countless battles with spirit, with sword, with qi. But here? It's me against the purest form of physical might. Maybe this is what I've needed to push my body toward its true limit.)
As the first giant swung down its iron fist, Tian Jue leapt forward, veins bulging under his skin, silver threads of vitality flickering faintly through his meridians.
(If I can endure this trial, then perhaps I'll finally glimpse the meaning behind this inheritance. Not just a power left behind… but a path that can refine my cursed body into something even fate won't break.)
The arena shook as flesh met stone, and Tian Jue's body became the battlefield itself.
Got it. Let's move Tian Jue into a sequence of escalating physical trials, each one testing his endurance, adaptability, and energy regeneration—key to his new physique cultivation.
Scene: The Endless Path of Strain
The trial space distorted again. Tian Jue found himself standing on an endless stone path surrounded by dark mist. Every breath he took carried the weight of suppression, like his lungs had been wrapped in chains.
A cold, mechanical voice resounded in his mind:
"Trial of the Physique — Endurance of the Mortal Body, Regeneration of the Spirit."
At first, the challenge was simple—he had to walk. But after only a dozen steps, the ground beneath his feet turned molten hot. Pain seared through the soles of his feet. With each step forward, his skin blistered and tore, only to painfully regenerate under the strain of his cultivation.
"So this is it… they want to test if I can keep moving despite damage. It's not about strength—it's about persistence."
He clenched his jaw and kept walking, remembering the many times in his previous life when pain and betrayal had nearly broken him. Compared to that, this was nothing.
The second stage came without warning. From the mist, stone spears shot out, stabbing into his shoulders, legs, and arms. The weapons didn't kill him, but they drained his vitality, forcing his body into constant regeneration. His blood flowed freely, only to be burned away and replenished by his Qi.
With each wound, he could feel his new physique cultivation pulling in ambient energy, greedily knitting his flesh back together.
But there was a catch—the trial's suppression prevented him from simply refilling instantly. His body had to cycle his reserves carefully, forcing him to regulate energy between healing and moving forward.
"They're watching how I manage my resources… if I panic, I'll run dry. If I'm calm, my recovery will outpace the trial's damage."
The third escalation was harsher still. The mist thickened into crushing gravity. Every step felt like lifting a mountain. His spine groaned, his knees buckled, and his breathing became shallow. The spears never stopped piercing him, and the ground remained molten underfoot.
It was pain stacked upon pain, a cycle designed to break him mentally.
Yet within the torment, Tian Jue's mind sharpened. He noticed something subtle: the more pressure he endured, the more efficient his body became at redirecting Qi. His regeneration began to automate itself, like a river learning its course.
A faint smile tugged at his lips despite the agony.
"So that's the essence of physique cultivation… To grind the body until it learns to survive without conscious control. If I pass this, I won't just heal wounds—I'll adapt to them."
Step by step, he pressed deeper into the endless path. His robes were in tatters, his skin a patchwork of burns and scars, yet his aura grew steadier, more grounded.