Mist still clung to the Valley of Convergence, thick and heavy, as if mourning the chaos the altar had unleashed. Broken platforms trembled, the air alive with residual energy that hissed like wind across stone. Sparks of spiritual qi floated in the atmosphere, lingering like fireflies that refused to settle.
The disciples who had survived the altar's initial hunger now hesitated, their movements cautious, almost faltering. Among them, sect pride still burned, though every breath carried the bitter taste of fear. Even the most confident heirs of the Azure Blade and Crimson Flame could not ignore the shadows creeping across the valley floor—threads of void subtly reshaping the battlefield.
From the edge of the clearing, Tianyu watched. His mortal guise betrayed nothing, yet his eyes traced every pulse, every tremor, every flicker of qi as if reading the hidden score behind their motions.
"They do not see," he murmured, voice soft, "but the threads bend nonetheless."
A young disciple of the Iron Sky Sect stumbled, his palms pressing against a platform that quivered like a living thing. His fingers brushed one of the glowing runes, and the altar responded with a sudden flare. The boy's qi screamed back into him violently, twisting his aura until he collapsed to the misted floor, gasping, barely clinging to consciousness.
Screams and murmurs rose in the valley. Fear had multiplied, contagion-like, spreading through every sect. The elders' faces darkened, each realizing that the altar's trials were no longer under any mortal control.
Elder Han Jiansu of the Azure Blade Sect stepped forward, voice commanding yet tight with tension.
"Withdraw! Preserve your disciples! The altar does not heed command!"
But retreat was impossible. Those who tried were blocked by the shifting, unstable platforms. Some were flung across the valley, landing hard, their bodies trembling with both physical and spiritual trauma. The altar's hunger had no mercy.
Tianyu leaned lightly against a moss-covered rock, observing. The chaos was predictable—but the human reactions fascinated him. Pride, fear, envy, desperation—they were threads, weaving a tapestry as intricate and fragile as spider silk.
And yet, one element had shifted.
A subtle anomaly in the Core Formation intruder's energy. His presence pulsed differently than the others, volatile and unrefined. The altar seemed drawn to him—not by purity, nor by mastery, but by resonance. The boy's instability called to the deeper pattern of the altar, as though it recognized a reflection of its own hunger in him.
Tianyu's lips curved faintly. So easily baited.
From the western ridge, the Silent Bell Monastery's disciples began to move, their steps deliberate, almost ritualistic. Daoist Shen Qing's face betrayed nothing, yet his aura pressed faintly against the mist, attempting to stabilize the unfolding chaos.
"Focus your minds," he intoned, voice smooth and controlled. "Do not let fear fracture your qi. The altar seeks not only strength, but weakness. Those who panic feed it."
Some disciples bowed their heads, attempting the impossible: harmony amid carnage. But the altar had learned their patterns, predicting hesitation, measuring doubt, feeding on it.
Tianyu's gaze drifted toward the altar again. Threads of void stirred faintly around him, invisible to all but himself, linking him to the chaos as if he were a conductor guiding an orchestra only he could hear.
Even cloaked in mortal flesh, he could touch the altar. Not fully, not yet—but enough to perceive the hunger, the echoes of the prison, the seed of the cosmic chain that had once caged him.
A disciple of the Crimson Flame Pavilion attempted a daring strike, conjuring a fiery blade that leapt toward a platform in midair. The altar reacted instantly, swallowing the attack whole and flaring violently, shaking the platform beneath him.
Sparks of qi burst outward, striking nearby disciples with random precision. Screams erupted again. Elders shouted, attempting to reassert order, but the altar ignored all commands, moving beyond the influence of mortal authority.
Tianyu's eyes narrowed. He could have acted—unleashed even a fragment of his void power—but he did not. Patience was required. Observation first, interference second. Every moment was a lesson, every motion a revelation.
From the southern ridge, a small group of Scarlet Fang disciples whispered among themselves. Their leader, a young man named Lu Tian, had been watching the strange plain-robed figure at the back. His eyes lingered on Tianyu longer than he realized.
"Who is that?" Lu Tian murmured. "He moves like nothing in this valley… and yet the altar trembles near him."
One of his companions laughed nervously. "You've been staring too long. That's just some stray cultivator, Core Formation at best. Don't let your imagination feed fear."
But Lu Tian could not shake the sensation. There was presence there, subtle and restrained—but undeniable. Every pulse from the altar seemed to hesitate as Tianyu's gaze passed over it. Threads of void, moving imperceptibly through the mist, seemed to curl around the mortal figure.
The altar pulsed again, more violently than before. The platforms shook, disciples lost footing, and the Core intruder's aura flared uncontrollably. Energy surged outward in chaotic waves, and the mist twisted in response, following invisible currents.
Tianyu tilted his head. A faint, sardonic smile curved his lips. The first true trial begins… and these fools do not even understand what they are feeding.
The altar's pulse intensified, sending ripples of energy that distorted the mist into ghostly shapes. Platforms quivered like living things, and disciples clutched at the edges, fighting to maintain balance. The valley was alive with tension, yet beneath the chaos, a subtle rhythm emerged—one that only Tianyu could read.
He observed as the Core Formation intruder struggled against the altar's subtle adjustments. Every surge of his unstable energy fed the ancient mechanism, as if it recognized a hidden kinship with the power he wielded unknowingly. His aura flared erratically, and Tianyu's faint smile deepened. So reckless. Yet deliciously revealing.
From the eastern ridge, the Emerald Flow Pavilion's disciples moved carefully, forming a lattice of energy in the air. Bamboo staffs clashed silently, tracing intricate patterns that attempted to harmonize the altar's volatile flow. Their leader, Master Li Yuan, exuded a calm precision, yet even he could not fully predict the altar's next reaction.
"It is alive," Li Yuan whispered to his second, voice hushed, yet urgent. "Not as a tool, but as a being. Every movement… every hesitation—it adapts."
The second disciple nodded, eyes wide. "It is not the altar that tests them… it is the valley itself. Each misstep carries consequence."
Tianyu's gaze drifted across the rising tension. Every sect reacted differently, yet all shared the same flaw: they were bound by expectation, by tradition, by the rules of their own teachings. They assumed control lay in strength alone, never suspecting the unseen threads guiding them.
A sudden surge of crimson flame erupted from the platform where the Core intruder struggled. The force shook the mist violently, scattering disciples from three platforms with gusts of searing heat. Elder Huo's eyes narrowed.
"Enough!" he shouted, raising both hands. "Control your students, or the altar will consume everything!"
But the altar did not heed him. It pulsed again, brighter, hungrier, sensing the instability of the intruder and the competing energies around him. Tianyu's shadow-like threads flickered in response, almost playful, subtly nudging the chaotic energies in ways no mortal could perceive.
From the southern ridge, Iron Fang disciples roared in frustration, striking indiscriminately at anything within reach. Blades clashed, sparks flying like miniature storms. Even so, the altar absorbed the blows, its runes flaring with a hungry, silent intelligence.
Tianyu let his eyes wander over the scene, dissecting every flaw. Strength without understanding is nothing. Power without perception is chaos.
A young Azure Blade disciple attempted to leap between platforms, aiming to aid a fallen comrade. Her sword arced gracefully, leaving a streak of silver light in the mist. But a ripple from the altar redirected her momentum; she stumbled, her strike off by mere inches. She barely regained balance before the next platform quaked beneath another disciple's attack.
Whispers spread through the crowd. "It… it's as if the altar moves in anticipation!" one Crimson Flame disciple exclaimed.
"Impossible," a rival Azure Blade muttered. "Nothing should be able to react that fast!"
Tianyu's lips curved faintly. They call it impossible, yet they feed the impossible every second.
In the distance, Lu Tian of Scarlet Fang Sect finally stepped closer, curiosity overpowering caution. He had kept a watchful eye on Tianyu, noticing the unnatural calm and subtle influence over the chaos. His mind raced with suspicion.
"Who is he?" Lu Tian whispered to himself. "Even the altar… bends slightly near him."
No one nearby paid attention. Disciples were too busy reacting to the chaos, their sect pride blinding them to a lone figure who moved unseen yet shaped outcomes invisibly.
Tianyu tilted his head, letting his fingers brush against the mist. Threads of void extended subtly, weaving between the altar and the struggling Core intruder. He did not act openly, only guiding the currents so that he could observe the reactions of each sect, each student, each leader.
The Core intruder's energy flared once more, erratic and dangerous. Flames, steel, and water collided around him, and the altar pulsed violently. Some disciples were thrown off entirely, falling from platforms and landing with a thud that rattled the valley.
"This… this is beyond any trial I've ever seen," Elder Qin murmured under his breath. "The altar is… alive. But… how?"
Tianyu let a soft, almost imperceptible laugh escape him. Alive? Perhaps. But not in the way they imagine. Alive, yes… but only because they have fed it with ignorance, pride, and fear.
From the northern ridge, Crimson Serpent disciples tried to organize their younger members, hissing commands that went largely unheeded. Their serpent emblem shimmered faintly in the mist, but even the most disciplined among them faltered as the altar reacted unpredictably to every motion.
Tianyu's shadow threads danced lightly along the mist, nudging energies toward subtle patterns. Not enough to interfere fully, but enough to guide outcomes imperceptibly. No one realized that each near-miss, each stumble, and each misplaced strike had been orchestrated to maintain balance within the chaos.
From the western ridge, Silent Bell disciples moved as one, their bell-ringing technique attempting to stabilize the fluctuating aura. A faint vibration from the silver bell rippled through the mist, momentarily aligning the energies. But even that precision was fragile, bending almost immediately as the altar pulsed violently once again.
Tianyu's eyes gleamed faintly. They can try, but they are blind. Everything bends around me, yet they do not see the hand guiding it.
A new pattern emerged: the Core intruder, unstable as he was, began resonating with certain energies, inadvertently forming a lattice that stabilized nearby platforms temporarily. Tianyu noted it carefully, his interest piqued.
So, the boy had potential—but without understanding, his power was a double-edged sword.
From behind, Lu Tian observed carefully, narrowing his eyes. "Something is… unusual about him. Too calm… too precise. And yet he moves like nothing I've seen. Could he… be the cause of these shifts?"
No answer came. Tianyu remained a silent observer, every motion deliberate, every gesture a whisper against the storm. His presence was a ghost among the chaos, unseen yet undeniably present.
The valley's mist thickened further, shadows stretching and folding as if the world itself leaned toward his direction. And the altar pulsed again, hungrier than before.
Tianyu let his lips curve into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. Let them feed, let them stumble, let them fight their own pride. All the while… I watch, I learn, and I wait.
The altar shuddered violently, sending a tremor through the valley that rattled stones and splintered the edges of floating platforms. A thunderous roar echoed from the Core intruder, his unstable aura flaring outward like a storm trapped in a cage. Disciples scrambled, blades clashing, fire flaring, and water spiraling as they tried to adapt.
Tianyu's eyes narrowed. Interesting. The boy's power is unrefined, yet… it interacts strangely with the altar. Almost like resonance, but… amplified.
From the southern ridge, Iron Fang disciples attempted to capitalize on the chaos, rushing toward unstable platforms to claim advantage. Yet their momentum faltered; a subtle shift in mist twisted their footing, unnoticeable to mortal eyes. Tianyu's shadow threads had moved, nudging their movements just enough to let the altar feed without letting them gain any real leverage.
"Why… why can't we control this?!" one disciple yelled, voice trembling with panic. His twin sabers glowed, yet every strike met with disproportionate resistance, the platforms seemingly alive, reacting almost instinctively.
"You fool," Elder Huo barked, flames spiraling around him. "Control yourself! This is the trial of the altar, not a duel of fools!"
Across the valley, the Core intruder staggered, his energy surging wildly. Sparks of unbridled power collided with the altar's runes, creating bursts of light that made distant disciples shield their eyes. Yet even in this raw chaos, the altar did not consume him—it seemed to recognize him.
Tianyu tilted his head, observing. The altar senses more than strength… it senses presence. And his presence… resonates with something deep within.
From the eastern ridge, Master Li Yuan's disciples pressed on, their lattice formations weaving through the mist. Bamboo staffs collided with spectral energy, shaping temporary currents of stability. Still, their control was fragile. One misstep, one misjudged strike, and a platform quaked violently, hurling disciples across the air.
A faint murmur spread through the crowd. "The altar chooses… or tests… not just for strength, but for harmony. Only those who align can survive its trial."
Tianyu let out a soft hum, almost melodic, as his fingers brushed against the edges of the mist. The void stirred, coiling subtly around the altar's pulses. His interference was invisible, imperceptible, yet it guided the flow of energies like a maestro adjusting the pitch of an orchestra.
Meanwhile, Lu Tian of Scarlet Fang Sect remained tense, eyes flicking between Tianyu and the chaos. Every instinct screamed that this wandering figure was no ordinary mortal.
"He moves as if… controlling the storm itself," Lu Tian muttered. "Yet he does nothing overt. What manner of cultivator is this?"
Tianyu's gaze met his briefly, and in that instant, the faintest flicker of void-thread brushed the young disciple's mind, like a whisper through mist. A shiver ran down Lu Tian's spine, but when he blinked, nothing seemed changed. Only intuition remained—a subtle unease he could not explain.
The altar pulsed again, violently this time. Platforms tilted sharply, and three of the younger disciples lost footing. Fire, water, and steel collided in uncontrolled bursts. The valley rang with the roar of elemental forces, but beneath it, a silent pattern emerged—threads of void guiding outcomes, preventing disaster while letting chaos reign.
A sharp voice cut through the tumult. "Stand firm! Do not falter!" Elder Qin commanded, raising his arms. Spirit qi radiated outward, stabilizing several platforms. Yet even he could not fully counteract the altar's unpredictability.
Tianyu let his lips curl. So much reliance on outward power… yet the moment you think you control, you are already a pawn.
From the north, Crimson Flame disciples surged, their flames licking the mist with molten precision. Elder Huo's heat rose like a tidal wave, yet the altar's runes flared, bending their attacks back into controlled chaos. Disciples collided midair, sparks and fire merging into fleeting blossoms that vanished before they touched the ground.
The Core intruder roared again, raising both hands. A shockwave of raw energy surged outward, threatening to collapse the nearest platforms. Tianyu leaned slightly, letting a thread of void coil subtly around the edge of the surge, redirecting it into the mist, saving the closest disciples from annihilation without their awareness.
"Impossible!" a Mist Valley disciple gasped. "How… how does it respond so fast?"
"Not the altar!" Elder Han muttered. "Someone—there! Behind the crowd! See that figure?"
Eyes turned toward Tianyu, but he had already begun to step back, melding into the mist, appearing almost like a shadow of the valley itself. Only the faintest ripple betrayed his presence, ignored by all but the keenest eyes.
A sudden tremor shook the entire valley. The altar pulsed brighter than ever, as if awakening fully. Platforms wavered violently, and the mist thickened to a near-opaque shroud. Gasps of fear and awe swept through the sects.
"Stay alert!" Daoist Shen Qing's voice echoed, calm but piercing. "This is beyond any trial we have faced."
Tianyu's faint smile deepened. Beyond their understanding, yes… and yet, the stage is set.
The Core intruder's aura flared in response to the altar's awakening, forming a lattice that temporarily stabilized three platforms. Sparks of uncontrolled energy burst outward, illuminating the mist in sudden, jagged flashes. Every sect froze, noting the unprecedented display.
Tianyu's eyes gleamed with interest. Ah… now it becomes truly entertaining. Watch, as pride, fear, and ambition collide. I will remain unseen, yet every thread bends at my discretion.
The valley quaked once more, and the altar pulsed a deep, resonant note. Tianyu's shadow threads responded almost instinctively, weaving through the mist, subtly guiding outcomes. The Core intruder, unaware of the invisible hand shaping him, stumbled forward—yet each misstep was precise, each failure controlled.
The sect disciples began to murmur nervously. "Is it possible… that someone is guiding the trial?"
"No," Elder Huo growled, his eyes scanning the mist. "Only the altar itself reacts this way. There is no other force!"
Tianyu's faint laughter drifted like mist. They call it impossible, yet I am here, unseen, shaping what they cannot see. Let the folly continue.
The valley, now fully alive, trembled beneath the collective energies of mortal pride and ancient mechanisms. Platforms floated, tilted, and shifted unpredictably. Sparks, flames, and water collided in a chaotic symphony, yet beneath the surface, a hidden order was taking shape—threads of void quietly stabilizing, directing, and shaping the storm.
And Tianyu remained, a ghost in the mist, calm, composed, watching, waiting, guiding without notice, his mortal shell concealing a void deep and patient, amused by the dance of those who thought they controlled the world.