"This…"
Everyone hesitated. No one dared to be the first to step through the gate, but neither did anyone dare to stay behind.
Then, a streak of pale yellow flashed across the void. The figure moved so swiftly her face could not be seen, leaving behind fading afterimages as she threw herself into the eerie black gate without a trace of hesitation.
That was enough to stir the others into action. Soon, cultivators began rushing in after her.
Tang Xiangyin too prepared to leap forward. She had just taken two steps when she noticed Yao Ranran still standing in place. Tang Xiangyin quickly stopped and shrank back.
"Fairy Ranran, did you sense some danger?"
"If Fairy Ranran doesn't move, then I won't move either!"
Tang Xiangyin's gaze stayed fixed on the ominous black gate. Cautiously, she reached out and clasped Yao Ranran's left hand, their fingers interlocked in a tight grip.
"You don't need to hold on so tightly. I suspect this trial is tailored to each person's strength, setting different obstacles for each of us…"
Tang Xiangyin loosened her hand, scratched her own head, and muttered, "Strange, why does my scalp feel itchy all of a sudden? Fairy Ranran, you go ahead first. I'll catch up later, no need to wait for me!"
"…Alright."
The itch came at just the right time…
Yao Ranran leapt alone into the black gate. Before her feet even touched solid ground, an overwhelming heat engulfed her. She looked down. Beneath her stretched a landscape of knife mountains and seas of fire.
At the summit of a glimmering, blade-strewn peak, a lone Daoist temple stood in solemn silence.
Yao Ranran felt no fear. She did not retreat.
Compared to the strange life she had just lived through, this trial was nothing. No torment could be more terrifying than knowing your fate, yet being powerless to change it.
The collapse of the Eastern Wilderness Secret Realm, the shattering of the Small and Great Xuanyun Secret Realms, the sudden emergence of Shu Xi Palace—all of it was tied, inescapably, to the heroine.
For the first time, Yao Ranran felt the heroine's halo pressing down on her like a threat.
Even though she had chosen to quietly remain in the Gu Ling Mountain, doing her utmost to avoid the flow of the original story, the influence of the heroine still dragged her back into its current.
She wasn't strong enough.
Compared to the heroine, she was nothing.
Yao Ranran tread across blade edges and passed through the sea of flames. Her flowing Water Zhi gown was singed, her sleeves reduced to ash and scattered by the scorching winds. Her bare feet turned red-hot, the soles of her Cloud-Walking Shoes burned away until only thin insoles remained.
Pu Yehai and Tang Xiangyin, watching from behind, were stunned.
"Is she even human?"
Pu Yehai lowered his eyes toward the magical artifact he had just thrown in earlier—reduced to nothing but cinders—and then looked up at the slender, unyielding figure pressing forward without pause. His pale face turned paler still.
"Who… who is she?" he murmured.
Tang Xiangyin's mouth went slack. "Fairy, you're scaring me…"
Pu Yehai turned to glance at the woman who had entered with him. His brow twitched. "You know her?"
Tang Xiangyin tucked her chin down, then nodded. "She's my boss."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she hesitated, her foot lifting as if to follow.
Pu Yehai frowned slightly. "If I'm not mistaken, that fire is Heaven-Burning Karma Fire. Old texts describe how the Qiaoliu Mountain Range in the southern region was once lush with endless forests. A million years ago, a single flame descended from the heavens, reducing the mountains to ash in an instant. The conflagration burned for five hundred years before finally dying out. Even now, that land is barren and lifeless."
Tang Xiangyin quickly pulled her foot back and turned her gaze toward the nearby mountain of blades.
"The knives gleam with a chilling frost, each edge exuding a murderous aura. Judging from appearance alone, every blade is sharper than the weapon in my own hand."
Crash!
Pu Yehai tossed a sword forward. The blade struck a knife tip—and shattered into two.
"They cut iron like mud, cleave jade as though it were nothing. No ordinary artifact can withstand them."
Tang Xiangyin's face drained of color.
She had nearly stepped into certain death.
Lifting her gaze, she watched as Yao Ranran disappeared into the distance, a silent ache tightening in her chest.
As expected, some people could not be compared.
"Although it looks effortless when she passes through, that doesn't mean we could do the same," Pu Yehai said coolly.
Tang Xiangyin's lips twisted into a bitter smile.
She should never have come. What now?
Her eyes darted about in panic. Then she noticed the man beside her, pale as death, and gathered her courage. "Daoyou, let's work together!"
Pu Yehai gave her a sidelong glance. Then he looked again toward the Daoist temple where Yao Ranran had entered. His lashes lowered. "Very well."
…
At the mountaintop temple.
"The ten thousand and ninety-ninth entrant," a clear female voice rang out.
The temple's steward cast her a cold glance.
Yao Ranran's heart tightened. She was still too slow.
The steward clasped his hands behind his back, his voice indifferent, his eyes sweeping over her. "What an utterly ordinary person. Ordinary talent, ordinary temperament, and… ordinary looks."
?
Straight to insults? Where was his courtesy?
At the last remark, Yao Ranran froze. Something wasn't right.
The original Yao Ranran had been hailed across the Central Continent as the number one beauty of the six lands. Even the heroine Pei Xianqiao could not compare. How had she suddenly become… ordinary?
The steward seemed to notice her doubt. His lips curled in disdain. "Don't tell me you actually think you're beautiful? That I'm lying? That you're that confident?"
Yao Ranran hesitated, then shook her head.
Life is struggle, and progress never stops. Among the ten thousand ninety-nine before her, there must have been those with better temperament, higher talent. One must never be arrogant. One must remain humble.
"Good. At least you have some self-awareness." The steward's smirk deepened. He gestured arrogantly toward a side door. "Go, ordinary cultivator. Beyond lies endless trials, and opponents far more talented and perfect than you."
Yao Ranran clenched her fists. "Many thanks for your guidance, Steward. This disciple will proceed!"
Resolutely, she turned and strode through the side door.
Once her figure vanished, the steward slumped to the ground with a thud.
"Senior Brother An is insane! Forcing me to humiliate someone like that! She's brilliant, she's monstrous in her talent, and I had to tear her down with words? Me—someone who needed three days and nights to cross the knife mountains and fire seas—what right do I have to insult her? Where did I get the nerve? The audacity? She's even that beautiful, and I had the gall to call her ordinary!?"
Dong, dong, dong—
The temple doors resounded again.
The steward snapped upright, expression shifting to ice. He sat straight-backed in his chair.
"The ten thousand and ninety-ninth entrant."
"You are far too ordinary."
This time, it was true.
…
Through the side door was a world of mirrors.
Every wall was a polished bronze surface, reflecting Yao Ranran from every angle. She saw herself clearly, yet at the same time, a stranger looked back.
The reflection was breathtaking. A woman of transcendent beauty, serene and ethereal, her aura clear as moonlight. Even the faintest glance was like beholding a celestial being beyond the mortal realm.
She wore a noble violet gown that shimmered with every movement, her slender waist swaying with grace, her every step radiating refinement. To behold was awe, never indulgence.
"So even this is not considered beauty? Just how fierce must the competition be ahead?"
Yao Ranran's expression grew solemn. Her resolve hardened.
The world was vast, with countless talents and prodigies. Beyond the looming threat of the heroine, there were trials unending. She could not relax. She could not be arrogant.
She tore her eyes from the mirrors, and without hesitation, walked deeper into the side hall.