The massive light gate that now replaced the mine shaft pulsed with a soft, rhythmic hum, like the heartbeat of some slumbering leviathan. The crowd held its breath, all eyes fixed on the shimmering surface. An unspoken consensus hung in the air—this trial, this chance at an inheritance, was meant for the young, the next generation.
Karen was the first to move. His expression as hard and unyielding as ever, he strode forward without hesitation and vanished into the rippling light.
His action broke the stalemate.
"Go!" bellowed Buck of the Ironrock family, his bulky form charging into the gate right after.
Lyna gave a slight nod to the Shadowscale elder before her figure melted like a ghost into the radiance. The young maiden from the Windspire family adjusted her attire with elegant composure before stepping lightly through. The youths from the Streamwood family exchanged encouraging looks and entered together. The red-haired young man from the Blazeheart family let out a fierce cry, leaping forward with boundless fervor.
Silas, standing at the rear of the Wood family contingent, was about to step forward when Elder Balor's aged but powerful hand landed on his shoulder.
"Remember, Finn," the Elder's voice was quiet but carried undeniable weight, "you represent the honor of the Wood family. Whatever lies within, bring it back for the clan."
Silas lowered his head, hiding the coldness in his eyes. "Yes, Elder," he replied dutifully before turning and stepping through the unknown portal like the others.
A slight dizziness washed over him, as if passing through a cool curtain of water. The surroundings shifted instantly. Gone was the noisy camp, replaced by a dark, descending stone passageway. Luminous crystals embedded in the walls provided meager light. Karen, Buck, and the others who had entered before him were nowhere to be seen; clearly, the entry points were randomized.
He steadied his mind and focused his senses. The spiritual energy within the tunnel was rich, yet it carried a strange, viscous quality, as if it could seep into the very depths of one's consciousness. Gripping his "Fortitude" spear tightly, he advanced cautiously.
The passage was short, ending in a wide, circular stone chamber. In its center floated a softly glowing, shape-shifting luminescence.
The moment Silas stepped into the chamber, the light erupted, engulfing him completely.
A deafening wave of cheers and the blinding flash of camera lights assaulted him. He found himself standing on a sleek, modern stage. Behind him, a massive display screen showed a stock chart climbing to a dizzying peak.
He was clad in a perfectly tailored Italian suit, a limited-edition watch he'd once coveted adorning his wrist. The audience was a sea of faces—reporters, investors, industry titans—all gazing at him with fervent admiration.
"Mr. Silas! Congratulations on Genesis Tech's market cap breaking a hundred billion! You are undoubtedly the greatest entrepreneurial genius of this century!" A familiar voice echoed through the microphone. Silas turned to see his former mentor, the professor who had always been so demanding, now beaming with pride, his eyes filled with pure, unadulterated praise.
A thought surfaced naturally in his mind: he had made it. His tech company had solved the energy crisis, its stock had skyrocketed. He had not only paid off his crushing student loans but had become one of the world's youngest billionaires. He had everything he'd ever dreamed of: wealth, fame, status, respect.
"Look, Silas," a seductive voice whispered in his heart, "this is the pinnacle you strived for before crossing over. No fighting, no disguises, no sword hanging over your head. You can enjoy all of this, this tangible success..."
Just then, an elegant figure glided onto the stage—the goddess Oshun, but now dressed in a sharp business suit, the perfect partner and companion of his fantasies. She smiled, linking her arm with his, and whispered in his ear, "Stay, Silas. This is the life you were meant to have. That world of danger and killing is just a bad dream."
Warmth, a sense of accomplishment, the satisfaction of being recognized... these emotions washed over him like the finest wine, threatening to intoxicate him completely. Yes, by staying here, he could shed his damned identity as an Agent, escape this dog-eat-dog world, and reclaim a life of stability, abundance, and admiration. He could even feel the fine texture of the suit under his fingertips, smell the expensive perfume in the air.
His grip on the spear loosened slightly. The "Fortitude" spear he always carried felt unnaturally heavy, utterly out of place in this setting.
But just as he was on the verge of succumbing, a flicker of struggle crossed his eyes. This perfect reality seemed to lack something. It lacked the adrenaline rush of fighting magical beasts in the forest, the exhilarating breakthrough upon overcoming a bottleneck, the sense of... reality. The success here came too easily, too perfectly, like a meticulously designed program.
"No..." Silas's voice was hoarse. He roughly shook off "Oshun's" arm, his eyes turning cold and clear once more. "This false prosperity, this comfort that flees from reality, is not my destination! My path lies in real bloodshed and battle, in surpassing my own limits! This is nothing but poison, numbing my will!"
He roared, this time not at the external world, but at the weakness within himself. He raised the spear, so incongruous in this setting, and thrust it fiercely towards the giant screen!
"Shatter!"
The screen, along with the entire lavish stage, fractured like shattered glass. The cheering crowd, the smiling Oshun, the praising mentor... all twisted and dissolved into nothingness. He was back in the empty, circular stone chamber, breathing slightly rapidly, his back soaked with cold sweat. The temptation had struck at the deepest part of his heart, his longing for a peaceful life.
Meanwhile, in another chamber, Karen stood atop a mountain of bones, the corpses of his enemies piled high beneath him. Countless powerful beings groveled at his feet. He held a blood-drenched longsword, a sense of overwhelming power flooding every fiber of his being.
"Kneel!" His voice, though not loud, carried immense authority. All the "enemies" below trembled and kowtowed obsequiously. An intoxicating feeling of absolute control nearly consumed him.
"Is this not what you seek?" the voice in his heart echoed. "Absolute power, making all your foes tremble. Stay here, and you will be the supreme ruler."
Karen's breathing quickened slightly. This was indeed his most naked desire.
Yet, a flash of clarity crossed his eyes. "False power is like a fortress built on sand! The power I, Karen, seek must be earned step by step, forged with my own fists upon a mountain of real corpses, not this false throne woven from illusions!"
With a furious roar, he punched down at the mountain of bones beneath him! The illusion shook violently and then shattered.
Lyna found herself back in the ancestral hall of the Shadowscale family. The clan elder was fastening the dark, shadowy insignia of the Matriarch onto her chest. All the clan members knelt, their eyes filled with awe and submission.
"Lyna, from this day forward, you are the head of the Shadowscale family," her father's voice held pride and gravity. "Lead the family to glory!"
A heavy sense of responsibility settled on her shoulders, yet it also brought a feeling of being needed, of being recognized. She had finally proven herself, attained the status and validation she had once craved.
"Stay," the voice tempted her. "This is what you deserve."
Lyna touched the insignia on her chest. She did yearn to prove herself.
But as her gaze swept over the kneeling clansmen, their faces, beneath the awe, seemed to hold a hint of stiffness and unnaturalness. She remembered the freedom she felt deep in the mine, fighting for her life against magical beasts.
"The family's glory should not be built upon illusory submission," she murmured to herself, her resolve hardening. "My future, Lyna's future, must be carved by my own hands!"
She ripped the insignia from her chest and hurled it to the ground! The illusion shattered instantly.
Buck saw himself draped in the Ironrock family's highest ceremonial armor, standing in the grandest arena of Essence Grace City. The entire crowd was chanting his name. He had just publicly defeated all challengers with absolute force.
"Buck! Buck!" The thunderous cheers threatened to drown the sky. He felt an unprecedented surge of pride and satisfaction.
"See! This is what you wanted! The family's pride, the adoration of the masses!" the voice crowed.
A intoxicated smile spread across Buck's honest face. He craved power, but even more, he craved the respect and glory that came with it, to make his family proud.
Yet, he suddenly found the cheers grating. The audience's smiles seemed uniform, fake. He remembered the life-or-death struggle in the mine, the explosive, raw, unadulterated power born from the sheer will to survive. That felt more thrilling than these orchestrated cheers.
"My... my fists are for smashin' real enemies, not for listenin' to fake people cheer!" he growled deeply, and drove his fist down into the podium beneath him! The illusion collapsed.
While the young geniuses battled their inner demons in their respective chambers, the situation outside the light gate changed dramatically.
Seeing all the young disciples enter safely, the middle-aged and elderly independent cultivators also began to show keen interest, but they hesitated, wary of the major factions' power.
Elder Balor's gaze swept over the restless crowd, a cold smirk playing on his lips. He pointed casually at one of the most destitute-looking elders, whose aura hovered around the First Rank peak.
"You," Elder Balor's voice brooked no argument, "go in."
The old man trembled, fear and conflict warring on his face. "E-Elder... this trial is for geniuses... this humble one is old, my talent poor... how could I dare..."
"Hmph!" One of Elder Balor's guards snorted coldly, a powerful Second Rank pressure instantly pinning the old man. "The Elder honors you by letting you enter! Go in, or die!"
The old man's face turned ashen. Under the absolute threat of force, he could only shuffle, trembling, towards the light gate. Under countless complex gazes, his figure was swallowed.
He succeeded! The light gate had not rejected him!
This caused an uproar among the independent cultivators and neutral factions, and the elders of the other families narrowed their eyes.
"So there's no age limit!"
"Quick! Get in!" Someone shouted. The independent cultivators and some mid-ranked and elderly practitioners from smaller families, who had been barely holding back, surged towards the light gate like a bursting dam, scrambling to be first.
Elder Stonefist of the Ironrock family snorted coldly and nodded to a massively built, scar-faced middle-aged man beside him. "Rockfist, you go too! Can't let the scraps take all the benefits!"
Lady Leandra of the Windspire family signaled to a steady-eyed, sharp-gazed middle-aged swordsman behind her. "Gale, go. Be wary of the others."
The Shadowscale, Blazeheart, and Streamwood families also dispatched their core members. Commander Rex of the City Lord's mansion looked grim, whispering to an aide, "Send in a squad of elites. Priority is intelligence gathering. If necessary... use your discretion."
The situation descended into chaos. The light gate, like a greedy maw, continuously devoured newcomers driven by all manner of desires. The young geniuses were about to face not only competition from their peers but also the threat of experienced, ruthless elders.
Deep within the relic, an ancient, indifferent consciousness "observed" it all. It was the relic's guardian spirit, operating according to the rules set by its creator.
It "saw" Silas tear through the comforting illusion without hesitation. Evaluation: Firm will, not deceived by comfort. Heart Nature: Superior.
It "saw" Karen shatter the illusion of power. Evaluation: Steady Dao Heart, not mired in falsehoods. Heart Nature: Superior.
It "saw" Lyna cast aside the illusory authority. Evaluation: Discerning, seeks true self. Heart Nature: Superior.
It "saw" Buck break free from the cage of glory. Evaluation: Simple and pure, can see through superficiality. Heart Nature: Superior.
Simultaneously, it "saw" some of the older cultivators who entered later. Some wallowed in illusions of obtaining heaven-defying techniques, seeing their enemies vanquished, or possessing limitless wealth and beauties, unable to break free for a long time.
The guardian spirit dispassionately delivered its verdict:
Mired in lust for power. Heart Nature: Inferior.
Deceived by wealth and desire. Heart Nature: Inferior.
Obsession too deep, unable to extricate self. Heart Nature: Poor.
These evaluations transformed into intangible marks, branded upon the aura of each trial-taker, destined to influence their fortunes in the trials to come. None of those trapped in the illusions were aware of this.
Silas was among the first to break free from the illusion. When he fully regained his senses, he found a new passageway had appeared on the opposite side of the circular chamber. From its depths came the faint sound of flowing water.
He took a deep breath, suppressing the slight ripples the illusion had caused in his heart. His eyes grew more determined. This relic was more complex and dangerous than he had imagined. Gripping his spear, he stepped without hesitation into the new passage.
The true trial, and the even more brutal competition, had only just begun.