The moment Su Mengtian's ship crested the final wave, the sea fell silent—as though the waters themselves were holding their breath. The Island Bearing Kun rose before them in eerie majesty, its silhouette vast and surreal under the shrouded sky. Beneath the veil of mist, the entire landmass shifted subtly, rising and falling like the slow breath of some titanic slumbering beast. Thunder growled in the distance, faint and ominous.
Commander Fei Wu, standing at the prow, turned to Mengtian. "From here on," she said, her voice laced with gravity, "your path is one no command can shape but your own resolve."
Mengtian nodded. Beside him stood the nine Hallmasters, their expressions sober. Behind them, elite members of the Heavenly Spear Alliance waited in reverent silence. This was not merely an expedition—it was a trial of destiny.
The ship touched the shore, and as Mengtian stepped off, the earth beneath him pulsed once, faint but unmistakable—like a heartbeat. Around them, trees rustled, their leaves shaped like long, iridescent feathers. Stones scattered across the terrain hummed softly with spirit energy, and some beat faintly in rhythm with the ground. This was no ordinary island. This land was alive.
As they made their way inland, the terrain shifted under their feet. What had seemed to be cliffs upon approach now loomed as vast fins, slightly trembling as though reacting to their presence. Then they came upon a great stone altar, embedded with ancient runes that shimmered faintly in shades of blue and silver.
Mengtian stepped forward. When his hand brushed the altar, a surge of energy coursed through him. Visions burst into his mind—he saw the primordial Kun soaring through tempestuous skies, its body spanning clouds, its roar shaking continents. Lightning followed its wake. A being born of storms, revered in ancient days as both guardian and destroyer.
As the vision faded, a figure shimmered into being before the altar—an elderly man with long white hair and a beard that flowed like mist. His eyes were deep and whale-black, layered with the weight of millennia.
"You stand upon the flesh of Kun," he said, his voice echoing through air and soul alike. "I am the Echo of Kun's Will, left behind to test those who seek what sleeps within."
Mengtian bowed slightly. "What must I do to earn Kun's legacy?"
The elder's expression turned grave. "Three trials await—woven from mind, body, and soul. They cannot be circumvented. You are not merely storm-forged—you must prove you are soul-bound."
With that, the ground shifted beneath them. The Hallmasters and alliance members were transported to separate peripheries of the island, protected by divine runes. The trials were for Mengtian alone.
The world warped.
The Trial of Reverence,
The Trial of Reverence began in silence. Mengtian stood alone on a dais of gold suspended in a black void. Around him, illusions swirled—crowds of millions knelt, chanting his name. He was adorned in imperial robes, a crown upon his brow, gods and monsters offering fealty.
"Accept it," whispered the illusion. "You are destined for dominion. They were made to follow."
His past life's victories echoed in the distance. His battle cries. His bloodshed. His conquests. The temptation clawed at his pride.
But Mengtian closed his eyes and knelt.
"I am a blade to protect, not a god to be worshipped. Glory sought without humility breeds ruin."
The illusion shattered like glass. The black void faded, and the elder returned.
"You have passed the Trial of Reverence."
The Trial of Balance,
The Trial of Balance began as the terrain shifted violently. Mengtian found himself upon a narrow ridge that soared over a stormy sea—Kun's back, now heaving with each breath. Gravity twisted. Winds roared. The land tilted unexpectedly, shifting as the beast exhaled.
Each step forward risked falling into thunder-filled abyss. Spirit winds tried to push him sideways. The ridge broke in places, forcing him to leap or cling to moving segments. At one point, the ground flipped vertically, revealing the storm sky beneath.
But Mengtian adapted. His breaths synchronized with Kun's breath. His body moved in harmony with the undulations of the sleeping giant. With firm resolve, he reached the next platform.
"You have passed the Trial of Balance."
The Trial of Will,
The final challenge loomed—the Trial of Will.
At the base of a spiral staircase carved into the chest of the island, Mengtian paused. The air here was thick with spiritual pressure, and faint symbols floated in the mist. From beyond the trees, a glow—one purple eye—briefly pierced the fog. It vanished in a blink.
Unseen to him, a voice whispered, cold and amused, "Let's see if you truly deserve him, successor."
Before he could ponder it further, the earth opened, revealing the path to the heart cavern. Mengtian descended alone, unaware of the watching rival.
Inside the cavern, the temperature dropped, and reality began to bend.
Here the Trial of Will began.
He stood once more on the blood-soaked battlefield of his former life. His comrades dead, his blade broken. Flames swallowed the sky. Screams of loved ones pierced the air. And before him—Yueying, dying in his arms.
"You failed me," the illusion whispered. "You always do."
Mengtian shook, gripped by shame, loss, and doubt. He almost dropped to his knees.
But then he clenched his fists.
"This pain is my anchor. I carry it forward—not to drown, but to rise."
He roared, breaking through the illusion. The cavern cracked with energy. The voice of the elder echoed, now reverent.
"You have passed the Trial of Will. Kun's legacy recognizes you."
Suddenly, walls crumbled to reveal a hidden space deep within the island—an untouched secret realm brimming with glowing spirit flora, rare ores, floating crystals, and latent spirit beasts. It pulsed with divine energy—resources that could elevate a faction to supremacy.
Before Mengtian could absorb its value, a flash of heat split the mist. On a distant ridge, eight banners rose.
The Great Crimson Flame Clan of the Feng family.
The Great Dragon Soul Clan of the Long family.
The Celestial Snow Pavilion of the Bai family.
The Golden Chamber of Commerce of the Jin family.
The Great Eastern Clan of the Tang clan.
The Golden Rock Clan of the Peng clan.
The Great Crystal Clan of the Shi family.
The Radiant Lion Clan of the Imperial Dongfang family.
They had arrived. And they too had seen the realm.
At their head stood formidable figures—clan heirs, elite prodigies, and ancient powerhouses.
Among them, a tall man in golden-red armor gazed across the island: Long Aotian, brother to Mengtian's mother, Long Xuimei, and patriarch of the Dragon Soul Clan.
Beside him stood Bai Qingtian, sovereign of the Celestial Snow Pavilion—and Yueying's father.
And nearby, watching with narrowed eyes, was Bai Feng—Yueying's elder brother, whose pride burned cold.
Mengtian stood atop the high cliff as the storm clouds churned above, lightning flashing across the ridge. Behind him, the Hallmasters of his nine halls reassembled. Below, the Heavenly Spear Alliance emerged from the mist.
The storm was no longer breathing. It was roaring.
The battle for Kun's legacy—and the future of the continent—had begun.
Thunder cracked far above the mist-wreathed canopy of the Island Bearing Kun, but down below, within the freshly unearthed secret realm, silence held dominion. A sacred stillness, broken only by the breath of the earth, the low hum of ancient spirit veins pulsing with forgotten power, and the steady footsteps of Su Mengtian and his companions. The Hallmasters fanned out beside him, their eyes scanning the luminous landscape with both awe and calculation. The members of the Heavenly Spear Alliance moved with discipline, guarding the flanks as if they had already entered enemy territory.
And in truth, they had.
From the cliffs and forested ridges surrounding the crystalline basin, shadows emerged. Eight directions, eight powers converging, drawn by the island's awakening and the blinding pulse of spiritual energy erupting from the heart of the realm. First came the flickering crimson banners of the Great Crimson Flame Clan, led by Feng Yao, the flame-kissed prodigy whose mere presence made the temperature rise. His eyes locked onto Mengtian, smoldering with both respect and rivalry.
Next arrived the Great Dragon Soul Clan of the Long family, spearheaded by none other than Long Aotian—the man known across the empires as the Golden Fang of the East. Broad-shouldered and armored in azure dragon scales, he carried the bearing of nobility and command. Su Mengtian's eyes narrowed. That was his uncle—his mother Long Xuimei's elder brother. A relative he had never met… until now.
Trailing mist and frost, the Celestial Snow Pavilion descended in silence, led by Bai Qingtian, the stoic and hawk-eyed patriarch of the Bai family, and his son, Bai Feng, whose presence shimmered with chilling grace. Yueying's father and elder brother. For the briefest moment, emotion stirred in Mengtian's chest—but he buried it beneath iron discipline.
The other factions followed quickly: the gilded envoys of the Golden Chamber of Commerce; the steely guardians of the Eastern Tang Clan; the gemstone-armored warriors of the Shi family's Great Crystal Clan; the mountain-treading Peng clan's Golden Rock disciples; and last, the lion-emblazoned procession of the Great Dongfang clan—the Radiant Lion Clan, bearing the imperial crest.
The ancient ground trembled as the island responded to the convergence of its chosen. The Elder Avatar of Kun materialized once more atop a ridge of stone-veined jade, leaning on his curved staff. His voice boomed like tides against cliffs.
"The trials tested your soul," he intoned, gesturing to Mengtian, "but this—this shall test your fate."
Dozens of elite cultivators flared their auras as the factions prepared for the inevitable: a contest of supremacy. The secret realm was a trove of untouched cultivation resources—primordial spirit crystals, rare beast cores, medicinal lotus pools, and flowing rivers of condensed essence. To claim it was to leap forward by decades in power.
Lan Qiu of the Hall of Tempests stepped forward, storm energy gathering around her. "We'll hold them if they charge. Tempest Formation ready."
Ji Yeyan of the Hall of Shadows remained in place, fingers twitching as black mist coiled at his feet. "No need to provoke… yet. Let's see which snake strikes first."
Suddenly, a ripple passed through the ground—subtle, but ancient. The Elder Avatar's eyes closed. "You awaken not only what is seen… but what lies beneath."
With a thunderous rumble, a segment of the realm cracked open near its center. Spiraling staircases of light and shadow descended into a pit cloaked in black mist. The smell of ozone and blood filled the air. From within that chasm came a sound—not quite a roar, nor a cry, but something older. A call that bypassed the ears and seared into the soul.
The factions paused. Even the most hardened elders turned toward the pit with unease.
Su Mengtian stepped forward. "The true legacy of Kun lies deeper still."
Long Aotian, now standing opposite him, chuckled. "You always did think you were chosen. Let's see if fate agrees."
With a flick of his cloak, Long Aotian nodded toward his own men. "Secure the perimeter. No one follows us unless they dare."
Bai Feng stared at Su Mengtian with a cool glint in his eye. "If you make it back, we'll have a proper discussion."
Around them, alliances were forming, dissolving, and reforming in real time. The secret realm would be a battlefield—and yet, it was not the final stage.
Su Mengtian turned to his Hallmasters. "We'll hold the outer sanctum—but I'm going down. The true contract with Kun isn't here. It's in that abyss."
Xuan Le nodded. "Understood. We'll prepare layered defenses. Anyone approaches—we'll answer with force."
Mengtian gave them a final glance. "Hold until I return. Or until I don't."
Then, without hesitation, he stepped into the abyss.
The mists swallowed him, and the silence above was shattered by the first clash of factions—flame met ice, sound met metal, illusion met storm.
And in the depths below, Su Mengtian descended toward a presence older than kingdoms, older than stars.
The Final Trial of Kun had begun.