Chen Mingyuan's voice came from below, but between his group and the Alliance stood more than a few dozen stone steps.
It was distance.
It was pressure.
It was the weight of Blackstone Trial Peak itself.
Feng Jiu'er and the Alliance disciples had already reached the one hundred and twentieth step and obtained their marks. Behind them, the stone tablet still glowed faintly, its ancient characters slowly fading. The pressure there had not disappeared completely, but compared to the steps below, it was far gentler.
Chen Mingyuan's Faction group stood far lower on the mountain.
Most of them had not even crossed the hundredth step.
The mountain pressure pressed down on their shoulders, bones, meridians, and hearts. Even Chen Mingyuan, who stood at Peak Spirit Foundation Realm, could not treat it casually. His robes hung heavier than before, and his smile, though still present, no longer looked as effortless.
Feng Jiu'er looked down at him calmly.
"If you want to speak, climb first."
The words were not loud.
Yet they fell clearly through the pressure.
Chen Mingyuan's eyes narrowed slightly.
Beside him, Chen Hao's expression darkened. His hand tightened around his sword hilt, and for a moment, a strand of anger leaked from his body.
The mountain reacted instantly.
Boom.
The pressure around Chen Hao suddenly sank.
His shoulders dropped, his knees bent, and his face changed as his Qi flow was forced back into his meridians. The sword intent he had just released vanished like a spark crushed beneath stone.
Chen Hao gritted his teeth and barely stopped himself from kneeling.
Chen Mingyuan glanced at him coldly.
"Do not embarrass yourself."
Chen Hao's face flushed, but he did not dare answer.
Above them, Murong Yue watched with bright eyes.
She leaned slightly toward Li Shan and whispered, "The mountain has better discipline than some elders."
Li Shan's mouth twitched, but he kept his face straight. "Do not provoke the trial formation."
Zhao Feng nodded seriously. "I agree. Formations usually have no sense of humor."
Murong Yue looked at him. "Like you?"
Zhao Feng fell silent.
Fang Lin stood quietly near the side, his black-grey robes pressed lightly against his body by the remaining mountain pressure. His gaze rested on Chen Hao for only a moment before moving away.
Chen Hao had changed.
His cultivation had risen.
His hatred had deepened.
But his foundation was still restless. He had strength, yet he could not fully carry it. The moment his emotions moved too violently, the mountain exposed him without mercy.
Fang Lin's expression remained calm, but deep inside, a cold feeling passed through him.
Some people grew stronger.
Some people only grew more dangerous to those weaker than themselves.
Chen Mingyuan lifted his gaze back toward Feng Jiu'er.
"Junior Sister Feng, since we are from the same sect, sharing what you learned from the tablet should not be too much."
Feng Jiu'er's eyes did not change.
"The trial rewards those who reach it."
Chen Mingyuan smiled faintly. "So you refuse?"
"I am telling you to climb."
The Alliance disciples behind her straightened slightly.
No one spoke, but their expressions already showed where they stood.
Chen Mingyuan's smile thinned.
Before he could reply, the stone tablet behind Feng Jiu'er trembled.
Black light spread across its surface, and new characters slowly appeared.
Those who have received the mark shall witness.
Those who have not climbed shall climb.
No aid.
No obstruction.
The same banner may stand beneath one name, but the mountain judges each heart alone.
The moment the words appeared, the marks on the Alliance disciples' hands glowed faintly. A gentle but firm force stopped them from leaving the platform immediately.
Fang Lin lowered his gaze to his palm.
The mark he had obtained from the Stone Vein Crushing Step pulsed once before becoming quiet.
He understood.
The trial was forcing the Alliance to watch the Faction climb.
They could not help.
They could not interfere.
They could only witness.
Feng Jiu'er frowned slightly, but she did not resist. Since the trial had given clear rules, acting carelessly would only bring danger to her own people.
Chen Mingyuan also saw the words.
His expression became colder for the first time.
There was no way around it.
He could not demand information. He could not use the excuse of the same sect to pressure them. He had to climb the same path and face the same judgment.
"Move," he said.
The Faction disciples followed.
Their first dozens of steps were not too difficult. Chen Mingyuan walked at the front, his dark-green robes swaying as he released a steady sword pressure to stabilize the disciples behind him. His control was not weak. Every step he took landed firmly, and every strand of Qi he released was used with purpose.
Fang Lin watched silently.
Chen Mingyuan was not Chen Hao.
This person had arrogance, but also patience. He knew when to hold back, how to probe, and how to wait for advantage. Among the Green Bamboo Sect's younger generation, he could indeed be considered a dangerous figure.
At the eightieth step, black mist leaked from the mountain cracks again.
Trial spirits formed one after another.
Their hollow eyes turned toward the Faction group.
Chen Mingyuan drew his sword.
"Green Mountain Sword Pressure."
A heavy green sword light swept outward, not sharp like ordinary sword Qi, but dense and forceful. It crushed two trial spirits at once and pushed the surrounding mist away.
Several Faction disciples immediately regained their footing.
Chen Hao also attacked.
"Green Shadow Piercing Sword."
His sword thrust forward, fast and vicious. The strike pierced through a trial spirit's chest, but under the mountain pressure, his footwork lagged by half a breath. The shattered spirit reformed near his side and clawed toward his shoulder.
Chen Hao's pupils shrank.
A Faction disciple beside him hurriedly struck out and forced the spirit back.
Chen Hao's face became ugly.
From above, Murong Yue quietly said, "That sword looked angry."
Li Shan replied, "Anger is not a sword technique."
The Faction group continued upward.
By the hundredth step, the mountain pressure changed again.
It no longer pressed only on flesh and Qi.
It entered the heart.
The Faction disciples' expressions changed one by one. Some gritted their teeth. Some trembled. One disciple began muttering under his breath, his eyes unfocused, as if he had seen something terrifying.
Chen Mingyuan's expression remained steady, but even his breathing became slower.
Chen Hao suddenly stopped.
Black mist gathered before him.
A blurry figure appeared inside it.
The figure was not clear to most people. It looked like an ordinary young man standing with calm eyes and plain robes. Yet the moment Chen Hao saw it, his face twisted.
"Fang Lin…"
His voice was low.
But several people heard it.
Feng Jiu'er's fingers tightened slightly.
Fang Lin stood not far away in Shen Mo's appearance, his face unchanged, but his eyes lowered by a fraction.
The illusion raised its head within the mist.
It did not speak loudly.
Only Chen Hao seemed to hear it.
Chen Hao's breathing grew rough.
"You are dead," he muttered. "You should be dead…"
The trial spirit suddenly moved.
Its hand pierced toward Chen Hao's spiritual foundation.
Chen Hao reacted too late.
Chen Mingyuan's expression darkened. He flicked his sleeve, and a black pill shot toward Chen Hao's mouth.
"Swallow."
Chen Hao bit down instinctively.
The pill dissolved, releasing a bitter medicinal force that rushed through his meridians. His trembling aura steadied just enough for him to raise his sword.
"Shadow Piercing Sword."
This time, the strike landed properly.
The mist figure shattered.
But Chen Hao did not look victorious.
He looked humiliated.
Above, Feng Jiu'er stared at the fading mist for a long moment.
Fang Lin.
That name had appeared again.
The ruins had drawn it from Chen Hao's heart, which meant Chen Hao still feared him or hated him deeply enough for the mountain to use it.
Her gaze unconsciously shifted toward Shen Mo.
He stood quietly, as if the name had nothing to do with him.
Feng Jiu'er looked away.
The Faction group climbed with increasing difficulty.
By the time they reached the one hundred and twentieth step, several disciples were pale, one had blood at the corner of his mouth, and Chen Hao's robe was soaked with cold sweat. Chen Mingyuan remained the most composed among them, but his eyes were no longer relaxed.
The stone tablet trembled again.
Marks appeared before the Faction disciples.
Some were dim.
Some were clear.
Chen Mingyuan obtained two marks.
Chen Hao obtained one.
The difference made Chen Hao's face even darker, but he did not dare complain. The mountain had judged him already. Complaining would only make him look worse.
Chen Mingyuan placed his palm on one of the brighter marks and received its inheritance. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked toward Feng Jiu'er.
"Junior Sister Feng's group climbed well."
Feng Jiu'er replied calmly, "Your group climbed too."
The difference between those two sentences was small.
The insult inside it was not.
Several Alliance disciples lowered their heads slightly.
Murong Yue's shoulders trembled once, but she managed not to laugh aloud.
Chen Mingyuan's eyes chilled.
Before he could speak, the stone tablet released a deep sound.
The black lamps around the broken altar suddenly ignited.
Three flames rose.
One crimson.
One pale green.
One black.
The mountain trembled from base to peak.
Then, behind the altar, two stone doors slowly emerged from the darkness.
The left door was wrapped in pale-green patterns, with faint crimson sparks moving between the lines.
The right door was made of black stone, covered in heavy mountain runes and dark cracks.
Ancient words appeared above them.
One sect.
Two hearts.
Separate paths.
Separate trials.
Separate fate.
The force holding the Alliance disciples loosened.
Feng Jiu'er looked at the two doors silently.
Chen Mingyuan also stared at them, his expression thoughtful.
The trial had not allowed them to fight.
It had done something colder.
It had separated them.
Fang Lin's gaze moved across both doors.
The left door clearly suited the Alliance. Its aura carried bamboo, fire, and formation stability. The right door leaned toward pressure, body force, and suppression. Both were ordinary trial paths, valuable but not enough to stir the grey seed.
Then, faintly, something pulsed inside his spiritual sea.
Once.
Fang Lin's eyes narrowed.
The grey seed was not reacting to either door.
It was reacting to the space between them.
Behind the altar, beneath the three black lamps, there was a thin crack almost invisible to the eye. A trace of dark heat leaked from it, vanishing so quickly that even Spirit Foundation cultivators would miss it.
Fang Lin felt it.
Not clearly.
But enough.
Something deeper was hidden beneath Blackstone Trial Peak.
Something the ordinary trial doors did not show.
He lowered his gaze and hid the change in his expression.
Feng Jiu'er turned toward the Alliance disciples.
"We take the left door."
No one objected.
Chen Mingyuan smiled faintly from the other side.
"Then we will take the right."
His tone was calm again, but the coldness beneath it had not disappeared.
As the two groups prepared to separate, Chen Hao's gaze swept across Fang Lin once more. He still did not recognize him, yet for some reason, after the mist illusion, looking at Shen Mo made his chest feel tight.
Fang Lin met his gaze briefly.
Calm.
Indifferent.
Almost empty.
Chen Hao looked away first.
Fang Lin released a slow breath.
Not relief but Restraint.
The doors opened.
Pale-green light swallowed the Alliance group.
Black stone darkness swallowed the Faction group.
And behind them, the tiny crack beneath the altar pulsed once more, carrying a faint warmth that did not belong to ordinary fire.
Fang Lin stepped through the left door with the others.
But his attention remained behind him.
Blackstone Trial Peak had not revealed its true treasure yet.
It had only hidden it better.
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