The echoes of Zhang Yifeng's saber strike still lingered in the trial grounds, the sharp sound resonating in the ears of every disciple. Even long after the guardians had vanished, the brilliance of his performance remained carved into their minds.
The prodigy of the Zhang family stepped down from the platform with measured steps. He neither smiled nor boasted; his face remained calm, his aura steady. Yet that quiet composure was more dazzling than arrogance could ever be. The crowd parted naturally, disciples drawing back as though unwilling to stand in his way.
"Unbelievable…" someone whispered, unable to restrain their awe.
"One strike for each guardian—has such a thing ever happened before?"
"At his age? Never. This Zhang Yifeng is bound to shake the entire Eastern Continent."
The murmurs spread like wildfire, filling every corner of the arena.
But not every whisper was praise.
"He's only seventeen, yet already this strong. Compared to him, what hope do the rest of us have?" one disciple muttered bitterly.
"Hmph. Not everyone can be born a prodigy," another sneered. "Some are destined to shine, others… to remain forgotten."
Their eyes slid toward Jian Wushen, who stood quietly at the edge of the crowd.
"That one—didn't he collapse during his trial just now?"
"Yeah, he looked like he couldn't even withstand the formation. What a disgrace."
"To think he even carries a spear on his back. What's the point of carrying a weapon if you can't even stand straight?"
Soft chuckles followed, laced with scorn.
Jian Wushen heard them all. His expression, however, did not change. He stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes fixed on the platform. The crowd's mockery washed over him like wind over stone—there, but unable to move him.
They see only what's before them. They cannot see the path I've glimpsed.
The Oracle's labyrinth still lingered in his mind, its mirrored corridors twisting endlessly, the silver-clad figure's words etched into his soul. He had failed there, yes. But failure was not the end. It was the beginning.
The elder overseeing the trial raised his hand, silencing the murmurs. His voice carried with authority:
"Next challenger—Lin Xuan of the Southern Peak!"
A young man stepped forward, his face tense but determined. His steps lacked the calm confidence of Zhang Yifeng, but his eyes blazed with a fiery will. He clasped his fists respectfully toward the elder before entering the formation.
The guardians appeared once more—three figures of condensed spiritual force, their forms shimmering like phantoms.
Lin Xuan drew his sword, his aura flaring like a rushing flame. "Come!"
The clash began instantly. Unlike Zhang Yifeng's effortless dominance, Lin Xuan's battle was fierce and ragged. His blade clashed with the guardians again and again, sparks flying, his body trembling from each exchange. He staggered under the weight of their blows, yet he did not yield.
Gasps filled the air as one guardian's strike sent him reeling backward, blood spraying from his lips.
"Lin Xuan!" voices cried from the crowd.
But the youth roared, steadying himself, his sword trembling in his grip. He lunged forward once more, his slash wild yet filled with desperate resolve. Against all odds, his blade cut through one guardian, dispersing it into fragments of light.
The crowd erupted in cheers.
"He did it!"
"Even though his strength can't compare to Zhang Yifeng, his willpower is extraordinary!"
The second guardian's strike came down mercilessly, sending Lin Xuan crashing to the ground. His sword clattered away, his body too weak to rise. The elder raised his hand.
"Enough. The trial ends here."
The guardians dissolved into nothingness. Lin Xuan was carried away by two sect disciples, his face pale yet his eyes still burning with defiance.
The crowd applauded—not with the awe they had shown Zhang Yifeng, but with respect.
"Not all geniuses are like Zhang Yifeng," someone murmured. "But that Lin Xuan… he fought with everything he had. That too is strength."
Jian Wushen's gaze lingered on Lin Xuan's figure as it disappeared into the crowd. His heart stirred faintly. He respected the youth's unyielding will.
Around him, the whispers resumed.
"Tch. That one at least managed to take down a guardian. Better than the spear-carrier who failed before even beginning."
"Some trials reveal monsters, others reveal trash. That's just the way of the cultivation world."
Jian's lips curved into the faintest of smiles—not of amusement, but of iron resolve.
Mock me. Underestimate me. When the time comes, the light you now worship will be dim compared to the blaze I will ignite.
The trial continued, but for Jian Wushen, the true battle had only just begun—within himself.
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