The air in the Citadel grew still and heavy, thick with the promise of a conclusion. The four women—Su Wan, Chu Ling, Wang Xia, and Niu—stood before the entrance to the Ancestor's personal labyrinth. It was not a structure of stone and mortar, but a weaving of solidified shadow and captured nightmare, a spatial anomaly that existed between heartbeats. The entrance was a shimmering, black vortex that promised not just physical challenge, but a journey into the self.
The Ancestor's voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere. "Within lies the final trial. The labyrinth does not test your strength or your cunning alone. It tests your worth. Your deepest desire calls to the prize. Heed its call, overcome its guardians, and the ultimate boon shall be yours."
He described the prize, and the air grew colder. "The winner will receive a Nascent Soul Breaking Pill," he proclaimed, his voice dripping with tantalizing power. "A treasure that can shatter the barriers of the Core Formation realm and guarantee the birth of a perfect Nascent Soul, regardless of talent or comprehension."
A collective, sharp intake of breath. For cultivators, this was a dream made manifest. For Su Wan, it was a key to greater power to protect her son and please her Master. For Chu Ling, it was a tool for absolute dominance. For Wang Xia, it was a fascinating alchemical wonder. For Niu, the words meant nothing, but the tone promised a great reward.
"And," the Ancestor's voice dropped to an intimate, terrifying whisper, "as a mark of my highest favor, the winner shall receive what only my First Wife possesses. A strand of my soul. A permanent connection to my will, my power, my… affection."
The implications were staggering. It was the ultimate symbol of status, a piece of the god they served woven into their very being. It was also the most intimate shackle imaginable.
The vortex pulsed. The final round had begun.
The Labyrinth's Test:
The labyrinth did not have corridors. It had themes. Each woman was plunged into a personalized hell and paradise woven from their own regrets, fears, and deepest yearnings.
· Su Wan found herself in a sun-drenched courtyard. A young Ye Fan, un-crippled and smiling, practiced sword forms. "Mother!" he called, his voice full of love. "Look! I'm getting stronger! For you!" The vision was perfect, a slice of the life that was stolen. The guardian here was not a monster, but the ghost of her own guilt. To advance, she had to willingly shatter the illusion, to choose her Master's reality over her heart's deepest desire. With a scream of anguish that tore from her very soul, she unleashed a wave of Phoenix fire, burning the beautiful lie to ashes. She fell to her knees, sobbing, as a path forward opened.
· Chu Ling was thrust into the Antic Market on the day of her humiliation. But this time, she was not the branded maid. She was the spectator. She watched her past self be forced to her knees, and she felt nothing but a cold, analytical disgust for the weak girl she had been. The guardian was her own past shame. To advance, she had to embrace it. She walked up to her kneeling past self, looked down with pitiless eyes, and said, "Thank you, Master, for breaking this useless thing and making me anew." The vision shattered, satisfied by her utter corruption.
· Wang Xia stood in the Hidden Su Clan's gardens, before her "sister," Su Wan. But this Su Wan was not the Empress. She was a desperate prisoner, clutching Wang Xia's hands. "Please, sister! Remember me! Remember us! You have to fight him! Help me!" The guardian was the last echo of her true memory, a ghost of the person she was supposed to be. Wang Xia tilted her head, curious. This construct was flawed. It was suffering. With a serene smile, she gently placed a hand on the illusion's cheek, administering a potent psychic toxin that made the pleading Su Wan simply… forget her pain and sit down to peacefully watch the flowers. The path opened. She had cured the disease of memory.
· Niu's labyrinth was simple. A endless, barren field. Her udders were painfully full. She lowed in distress, searching for relief. In the distance, she saw her milking bench. But between her and it stood a large, stubborn rock—a manifestation of her own residual, stubborn will. The guardian was simplicity itself. She had to want her purpose more than her discomfort. With a grunt of effort, she pushed the rock aside. It wasn't difficult. The desire for the reward, for the Master's pat, was stronger. She reached the bench, and the attendants materialized to relieve her. Contentment washed over her. The path opened.
The Final Chamber:
They arrived at the center simultaneously. It was not a room, but a platform floating in a starless void. In the center, on a pedestal of bone, sat two things: a pill that glowed with the light of a contained supernova, and a swirling, emerald green strand of energy that pulsed with the Ancestor's terrifying power—the soul strand.
For a heartbeat, they all stared. Then, they moved.
Su Wan lunged with raw speed. Chu Ling was ready, throwing a cloud of needle-dust to blind and slow her. Wang Xia simply exhaled towards the pedestal, a mist that would put any who touched it into a death-like sleep.
But they had all underestimated the labyrinth's final trick. It had weighed their worth. It had measured not just their power, but the purity of their submission to the Ancestor's will.
As Su Wan's hand neared the pill, a force repelled her—the echo of her anguish at destroying the illusion of her son. Her motivation, though strong, was still tinged with a personal desire.
As Chu Ling's fingers neared the soul strand, she too was pushed back. Her submission was flawless, but it was born of a selfish desire for power and dominance, not pure devotion.
Wang Xia's mist dissipated against an invisible shield. Her actions were perfect, but her heart held only a clinical curiosity, not worship.
Niu, confused by the struggle, simply plodded forward. She wasn't thinking of power or status. She saw the glowing pill and the strand of light. The Master had said the winner gets the prize. She wanted to please the Master. Her desire was absolute in its simple purity. There was no conflict in her heart, no past, no future, only the present need to obey and be rewarded.
The defenses did not stop her. She walked straight up to the pedestal.
The others watched, stunned, as the hucow reached out a placid hand. She first picked up the Nascent Soul Breaking Pill. She looked at it for a moment, then, with a simple shrug, popped it into her mouth and swallowed it like a piece of candy.
A tremendous surge of energy exploded within her, but her Steadfast Ox Body and her mindless state simply absorbed it. Her cultivation, once nullified by her conditioning, didn't just break through to Nascent Soul—it solidified into a rock-solid, immensely durable, and utterly simple-minded Nascent Soul, perfectly aligned with her body.
Then, she reached for the strand of the Ancestor's soul.
It reacted to her touch, not with resistance, but with recognition. This was a vessel of perfect emptiness, ready to be filled. The strand shot forward and sank not into her dantian, but into the brand on her hip, right beside the characters of his name. The sigil flared with a brilliant, possessive green light before settling, now thrumming with a fraction of his cosmic will.
The labyrinth dissolved. They stood back in the Citadel's main hall. Niu stood slightly apart, glowing with a serene, bovine power, the new soul strand on her hip a mark of ultimate favor.
The Ancestor descended from his balcony, laughing—a sound of genuine, delighted astonishment.
"The humble ox leads the herd!" he proclaimed. "While you schemed and fought with your complicated hearts, the simplest among you won the prize through pure, unadulterated devotion. A lesson for you all!"
He walked to Niu and patted her head. "Well done, my good Niu. You have pleased me greatly."
Niu nuzzled his hand, content.
He then looked at the other three, his gaze turning cold. "You sought the prize for yourselves. She sought it for me. Remember this failure. Let it temper your service."
The competition was over. The hucow had won. The Phoenix Empress, the Sadistic Minister, and the Poison Sovereign had been bested by their own complexity. And the Ancestor had forever bound a piece of his soul to his most simple, most productive asset, ensuring her eternal loyalty and making her the ultimate symbol of his twisted philosophy. The strand within her would never face conflict or doubt. It would simply be, a quiet engine of obedience, forever.