The desperate, three-pronged assault began. With less than five minutes on a clock that only existed in the hum of the overloading array, the fractured Alliance plunged into the heart of the enemy fortress, their every move a race against their own annihilation.
"The eastern regulator is a straight path, but heavily guarded by battle puppets!" Jian Yi's voice echoed through their short-range communication devices, his tone calm and precise despite the chaos. "Master, your sword arts are the best tool to dismantle them quickly!"
"Understood," Jian Wushuang replied, his voice a blade of cold steel. He led the righteous faction, a blur of silver and gold light, down the designated corridor. The traitors, including the wounded but still fanatical Elder Bai, followed close behind, their faces masks of righteous determination that concealed their treacherous intent.
The corridor opened into a vast, cavernous chamber. In the center, a hundred ten-foot-tall puppets, forged from black iron and animated by resentful spirits, stood in silent, perfect formation. Their eyes glowed with a malevolent red light, and their arms were massive, piston-driven hammers capable of crushing a Golden Core expert into paste.
"A puppet legion," Jian Wushuang noted, his expression grim. "They feel no pain, no fear. Do not engage them head-on. We cut through."
He drew his divine sword, and it sang, a clear, high-pitched note that seemed to purify the very air. "Heavenly Sword Art, First Stance: Celestial River!" he commanded. He did not charge. He simply slashed, and a river of pure, silver sword light, a hundred meters long, erupted from his blade. It was not a chaotic wave of energy, but a perfectly controlled, flowing current of absolute sharpness. The river of light crashed into the puppet legion, and the black iron constructs were not shattered; they were simply... unmade. The puppets in the direct path of the attack were silently and effortlessly sliced into thousands of paper-thin wafers that fell to the floor with a soft metallic clatter.
He had carved a perfect, clean path through the center of the legion. "Go!" he roared to his followers.
The righteous cultivators surged forward, following in his wake. But as they ran, Elder Bai and the other traitors acted. They did not attack their allies directly; that would be too obvious. Instead, they subtly altered their own spiritual energy, sending out discordant pulses that disrupted the flow of the righteous formation. One elder "stumbled," his fall perfectly timed to trip three other cultivators. Another unleashed a "stray" blast of light energy that struck the ceiling, causing a cascade of heavy debris to fall, blocking the path for those in the rear.
"Master, watch out!" Jian Yi's voice suddenly crackled through the communicator. "Elder Bai is behind you! His energy signature is fluctuating!"
Jian Wushuang, who was about to engage the puppets that were now converging on their path, felt a chill crawl up his spine. He spun just in time to see Elder Bai's hand, no longer a claw of demonic energy but wreathed in a subtle, almost invisible formation of gray light, aimed at his back. It was not a killing blow; it was a sealing art, designed to momentarily disrupt his connection to his sword will.
With a roar of fury, Jian Wushuang abandoned his attack on the puppets and brought his sword around in a defensive arc. "Myriad Sword Wall!" A thousand phantoms of his blade appeared, forming a shimmering, impenetrable shield. Elder Bai's sealing art slammed into the wall and dissipated, but the damage was done. Their momentum was broken. The puppet legion, their movements logical and relentless, had now completely surrounded them.
"The southern path is a straight shot, but the corridor is lined with soul-flame traps that feed on demonic energy!" Jian Yi's voice warned. "Your Excellency, your raw power can suppress them, but you must not let them touch you!"
"Hmph! Do you need to tell me how to fight, boy?" the Demonic Emperor roared in response, but a flicker of caution entered his eyes. He led his demonic host, a tide of black and red energy, down the southern corridor. The walls were, as the boy had said, lined with thousands of small holes from which a pale, ghostly white fire seeped, creating a curtain of soul-devouring flame.
"Pathetic tricks!" the Emperor bellowed. He did not try to dodge. He simply unleashed his own aura, a crushing, tyrannical pressure that was the embodiment of his will. "Emperor's Dominion!" The pale soul-flames, which would have instantly incinerated a lesser demon, were physically pushed back by the sheer force of his presence, creating a safe corridor in the center of the tunnel of fire.
"Forward!" he commanded, his arrogance on full display.
As his forces charged, the traitors within his own ranks, a group of cultivators from a vassal demonic sect, made their move. Their sabotage was as direct and brutal as their leader. As the Demonic Emperor was focused on suppressing the flames ahead, two of the traitorous sect masters lunged, their blades coated in a rare, flesh-melting poison, stabbing not at the Emperor himself, but at his unguarded generals.
Two of his most loyal commanders cried out in pain as the poisoned blades found their mark, their demonic bodies instantly beginning to dissolve. The betrayal caused a moment of chaos in the demonic ranks, and the Emperor's concentration wavered for a split second.
It was all the traps needed. The suppressed soul-flames roared back to life, engulfing the entire corridor.
"Lord Sovereign," Jian Yi's voice was calm and even. "The northern path is a maze of spatial arrays and illusions. Your mastery of the void is our only way through. Be wary of the nexus points; they are unstable."
"The boy is surprisingly well-informed," the Void Sovereign hissed to his subordinates as they navigated the shimmering, disorienting corridor. The walls seemed to melt and reform with every step, the floor occasionally dropping away to reveal a swirling vortex of pure chaos. But to the Sovereign, this was his natural element. He moved with a chilling grace, his hand occasionally reaching out to tap a section of empty air, causing a deadly illusion to shatter or a hidden spatial tear to seal itself.
The traitors on his team, led by the Oracle of the Immortal Alliance, were the most subtle of all. She did not need to act directly. She was a being of fate, and her sabotage was a gentle, almost imperceptible nudge on the threads of reality. She subtly altered the probability of a spatial array malfunctioning, causing a section of the corridor to collapse and separate the Sovereign from his main force.
The Void Sovereign found himself isolated, standing in a small, stable pocket of space, while his subordinates were trapped in a chaotic maze behind him. And before him, a new figure materialized. It was the Silent Scholar, the commander of the Bastion, a Heavenly Immortal whose power was equal to his own.
"Sovereign," the Scholar said with a calm, academic smile. "An unexpected pleasure. The Lord Oracle sends her regards. She felt it was time the Abyssal Court's influence in this new era was... pruned."
The Void Sovereign looked at the calm, confident scholar, then at the chaotic maze behind him, and knew he had been played not just by the host of the banquet, but by his own supposed allies. A cold, silent fury, the fury of a master schemer who has been out-schemed, began to burn in the depths of his soul.
On the deck of the Eternal Horizon, Ao Xian sighed, a sound of profound, theatrical disappointment. He set down his teacup. "This is a disaster," he said, his voice laced with the weary tone of a director whose actors have all forgotten their lines. "The righteous faction is about to be bludgeoned to death. The demonic faction is being roasted alive. And the schemer is about to be assassinated by a librarian. The plot is completely falling apart."
General Ying nodded grimly. "They have failed the test, Young Lord."
"Indeed," Ao Xian said. "And a failed test reflects poorly on the teacher." He stood up, his lazy demeanor gone, replaced by an aura of absolute, unquestionable authority. "It seems a more... direct form of instruction is required."
In the eastern chamber, Jian Wushuang and his men were locked in a desperate, losing battle against the relentless tide of iron puppets and the insidious sabotage of the traitors. Just as a massive puppet's hammer was about to crush a wounded Jian Yi, who had been injured protecting his master, a figure appeared in the center of the room. It was a perfect, ethereal projection of Ao Xian.
He looked at the chaotic scene with a look of distaste. "So noisy," he commented. He casually waved his hand. The entire legion of one hundred battle puppets, each one a formidable weapon, simply froze. Then, they crumbled into a fine, metallic dust that settled on the floor like a gray snow. He then turned his gaze to Elder Bai and the other traitors. "And betrayal is so cliché." He snapped his fingers. The traitors, their faces masks of horror, were not killed. They were simply... erased. One moment they were there, the next, they were gone, leaving not even a wisp of spiritual energy behind.
The room fell into a deathly silence. Ao Xian looked at the stunned, terrified righteous cultivators, his gaze finally resting on Jian Wushuang. "The eastern regulator is that way," he said, his voice calm. "Don't be late." The projection then faded, leaving them alone in a room of silent, metallic dust.
Simultaneously, in the southern corridor, the Demonic Emperor and his forces were being consumed by the roaring soul-flames. Just as the Emperor was about to sacrifice his remaining generals to forge a path of escape, a figure of impossible beauty and charm appeared in the heart of the inferno. It was Hu Mei'er. She giggled, a sound like tinkling bells, and the terrifying soul-flames, which had been a raging sea of death, became as docile as kittens. They flowed towards her, forming harmless, playful wisps of light that danced around her fingers. She then looked at the demonic traitors, who were staring at her with a mixture of lust and terror. "My Lord finds your disloyalty... distasteful," she said with a pout. With a flick of her wrist, the traitors were engulfed in a shower of beautiful, pink foxfire that consumed them in an instant, leaving behind only the scent of cherry blossoms. She then looked at the stunned Demonic Emperor. "Lord Ao Xian says you're running out of time. The southern regulator awaits." She then vanished in a swirl of petals.
In the northern maze, the Void Sovereign was being pushed back by the Silent Scholar's relentless, logical assaults. Just as the Scholar was about to land a final, decisive blow, a figure appeared between them. It was Long Jing. She did not look at the Scholar. She did not even acknowledge his existence. She simply looked at the Void Sovereign, her ancient, draconic eyes holding a silent, absolute command. "The northern regulator," she stated, her voice a calm, deep rumble that seemed to shake the very fabric of the pocket dimension. "Now."
The sheer, overwhelming pressure of her presence made the Silent Scholar, a powerful Heavenly Immortal, freeze in terror, his techniques dissolving into nothingness. Long Jing then vanished, leaving a terrified, vulnerable Scholar and a stunned, but now unopposed, Void Sovereign.
The three leaders, now free from their immediate threats and more terrified of their "ally" than their enemies, had no choice. The message was clear. The test was not over. It had just been reset. With a new, desperate urgency, they raced towards their targets, the countdown clock still ticking.