"Ah?"
Lin Dong stared in disbelief. "Master, seriously? You want me to sweep the steps?"
Ye Feng raised a brow. "You don't want to?"
"N-No, I'll go now!" Lin Dong stammered, recognizing the faint threat in Ye Feng's gaze. That look—it meant business.
Fear crept through him.
Unlike the original timeline, he wasn't cultivating the ancestral Ancestral Symbol technique but the Burning Technique from the Doupo Plane. Without a Heavenly Flame, the technique couldn't evolve. And with Ye Feng now publicly accepting disciples, competition would only become fiercer.
I've got to redeem myself. Damn it! Why did I let that lustful thought creep in? Peeking at Ling Qingzhu—what the hell was I thinking?
He clenched his fists.
Master clearly has his eye on her. I should never covet what he hasn't granted me. I need to change the impression I left. I have to prove my loyalty.
Lin Dong's eyes sharpened with renewed purpose.
Since Master seems fond of Ling Qingzhu, I should find a way to help. It's not enough to have Qingtan. That Ying Huanhuan girl is strong too. Yes… If both become Master's disciples, I'll find a way to help him bond with them.
That's it! I'll become a matchmaker for my master!
—
Inside Yefeng Villa
"Why aren't you going?" Ye Feng asked calmly, turning to Mu Lingsha, a girl with bronze skin and striking black eyes.
"Eh? Master… am I being punished too?" she asked innocently.
Ye Feng gave her a slight smile. "Lin Dong is your fiancé. When he's being disciplined, shouldn't his future wife stand by his side and share his trials?"
Mu Lingsha blinked, then smiled sweetly. "Understood, Master!"
She bowed and ran off to catch up with Lin Dong, her steps light and quick.
From behind, Lin Qingtan called out, "Young Master Ye… Brother Lin Dong…"
Ye Feng waved a hand. "Qingtan, the Light of the Chaos God aids cultivation. A powerful person must possess not just strength—but also a heart forged in fire. Lin Dong's heart needs tempering."
"But… brother-in-law?"
Ye Feng chuckled and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. "You're my future wife. Lin Dong is your brother—so naturally, he's my brother-in-law. Makes sense, right?"
His hand slipped beneath her robes.
"Master Ye, stop—y-you're being bad again…" Lin Qingtan's cheeks flushed crimson as she playfully tried to escape his grasp.
"What's wrong?" Ye Feng frowned slightly.
"Y-Young Master Ye… please don't be angry. I… I just can't take it anymore." She lowered her head, fidgeting nervously with the fabric of her clothes.
As the God of Creation, Ye Feng's stamina was overwhelming. Lin Qingtan loved him dearly, but even she was struggling to keep up.
Her eyes glanced toward the mountain. Watching the ongoing trial, a thought echoed in her heart—the same one Lin Dong had earlier.
I need to find a sister-wife to share Master with me. Otherwise, my 'fields' might really be destroyed one day…
—
On the Mountain Steps
Despite the harsh conditions, hundreds continued climbing through the divine glow of the Chaos God's Light. Among them, two figures stood out the most—Ying Huanhuan of the Dao Sect and Ling Qingzhu of the Jiutian Taiqing Palace.
Following behind were Lin Langtian, who carried the mysterious "Grandpa" golden finger, and Mu Qianqian, Mu Lingsha's sister. After them came Wang Yan, Qin Shi, Huang Pujing, and others from the Great Yan Dynasty.
The sacred path up Linjia Mountain consisted of 1,001 steps, each bathed in the Light of the Chaos God. Much like the Douluo plane's divine tests, the pressure doubled every hundred steps—on the 101st, 201st, 301st…
Yet it wasn't only about the challenge.
Within the Light of Chaos, vital energy flowed faster. Cultivation speed accelerated dramatically.
This discovery ignited a new wave of enthusiasm. Even those uninterested in becoming Ye Feng's disciples joined the trial, just to bathe in the miraculous light.
The trial spanned one full year.
At the six-month mark, Ling Qingzhu and Ying Huanhuan stepped onto the 1,001st step.
"Half a year remains," Ling Qingzhu whispered, eyes shining.
"I've made three breakthroughs," Ying Huanhuan added, panting lightly.
The two shared a look, a rare mutual understanding forming between them. Without further words, they sat down at the summit, letting the Light of Chaos wash over them as they resumed cultivation.
Two months later, Lin Langtian and Mu Qianqian joined them. They too had conquered the final step and chose to remain under the divine glow, honing their strength before the final judgment.
—
The First Day of the Lunar New Year
Qingyang City was bursting with life, fireworks coloring the sky. Meanwhile, atop the sacred mountain, over a hundred people had reached the summit.
From more than 100,000 original participants, only a fraction had succeeded.
"The elimination rate is terrifying…" muttered an old man with snowy white hair and piercing eyes. He stood beside the mountain, awe written across his face.
Halfway up the mountain, Lin Zhentian observed the trial from a wide stone platform.
"There are still three hours left for the first round," he announced, gazing at the 900-step climbers straining against the pressure.
Three hours. Then two.
Many still struggled near the peak, unable to take the final step.
"Hrrgh!" one man groaned, raising a foot toward the 1,001st step—but it wouldn't move. No matter how hard he tried, it was as if the heavens themselves refused him passage.
"Just one more step… one more…"
He was a burly warrior, skin bronzed by battle, his muscular frame covered in open wounds—each inflicted by the intense pressure of the Chaos Light. His face was twisted in pain, but his spirit remained unyielding.
Every centimeter he advanced deepened his wounds. The blood didn't spill—it was suppressed by the divine pressure, forming thick, red ridges across his body.
Even so, he pressed on.
"One hour left…"
"Half an hour…"
"One stick of incense…"
"Only a cup of tea's time remains…"
Lin Zhentian's fingers twitched. He wanted to help this man—this warrior of astonishing willpower—but he dared not act without Ye Feng's permission.
Ye Feng's trial must remain untouched. I cannot risk his wrath.
"AHHH!"
With a final roar, the man poured every drop of his soul into one last push.
Step.
His foot landed on the 1,001st stair.
For a moment, silence fell.
Then—
SPLASH.
The pressure vanished, and the blood long held inside exploded outward in a crimson spray. The man collapsed on the platform, soaked in his own sacrifice—but victorious.
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