The murmurs in the trial grounds had not yet died down from Jian Wushen's victory when the elder's voice echoed once more.
"Next challenger, step forward!"
The crowd stirred, disciples shifting in their seats as another youth stepped onto the glowing platform. His robes shimmered with silver embroidery, and his long hair was tied neatly behind his head. His gaze carried quiet arrogance, the kind born of noble lineage.
"Zhang Hu of the Zhang family," someone whispered.
"The youngest son of the Zhang family head," another added, awe coloring their tone. "They say his comprehension rivals even Zhang Yifeng."
The mention of the Zhang family stirred excitement. All eyes turned to the young prodigy, who walked with unhurried steps as though the platform itself bowed to his presence.
Jian Wushen's gaze followed him quietly. His grip on the spear tightened ever so slightly, but his expression remained calm.
The runes flared again, and three guardians materialized. Their towering figures radiated oppressive pressure, yet Zhang Hu's lips curved into a confident smirk.
With a single breath, his aura erupted—sharp, domineering, as if a mighty beast lurked beneath his flesh. He raised his hand, and a jade talisman dissolved into light. In an instant, a phantom book appeared before him, its pages glowing.
"A mimicry skill card!"
The disciples erupted into gasps. The phantom book flipped open, runes spilling into his body. His aura surged higher, his frame glowing faintly. When the light faded, his stance mirrored one of the guardians exactly—the halberd-wielder.
"This is the strength of the Zhang family," someone muttered enviously.
The battle began with a roar. Guardian and prodigy moved in perfect unison, halberds clashing with bone-shaking force. Sparks scattered across the platform as Zhang Hu's movements flowed flawlessly, each strike mirroring his opponent's before twisting into something sharper, deadlier.
The watching disciples cheered.
"This is true genius!"
"To learn and replicate in an instant—how terrifying must his comprehension be?"
Elders exchanged approving glances. Even the stoic ones nodded slightly.
But in the midst of the noise, Jian Wushen's eyes narrowed. His spear trembled faintly at his side, humming with a resonance none around him seemed to notice. It was as if the weapon itself rejected what it saw—the borrowed power, the false imitation.
So this is the path others walk, Jian thought silently. Borrowed brilliance. Temporary strength. But my spear… it doesn't belong to that path.
On the stage, Zhang Hu's halberd swept through the final guardian, splitting its body of light in two. The crowd roared their approval as the guardian crumbled into fragments.
At the same moment, a glowing chest appeared in midair, descending before him.
"The trial's reward!"
Zhang Hu reached out, and the chest opened with a flash. Inside lay a jade slip inscribed with flowing characters. He raised it high, his expression smug.
"A movement technique of the Heaven-rank," an elder announced. "Heavenly River Footwork!"
The arena erupted. Disciples cried out in envy, some even standing from their seats in disbelief.
"Heaven-rank?!"
"With that technique, Zhang Hu's future is limitless!"
The prodigy bowed slightly to the elders before striding down from the platform, his every step radiating pride. Whispers followed him like a tide.
Jian Wushen lowered his gaze. His fingers brushed along the shaft of the spear, feeling the faint vibration that still lingered. He said nothing, but in his silence lay a sharpness deeper than words.
More disciples were called. One after another, they stepped forward, fought, won or lost. Some collapsed in shame. Others beamed with pride as mimicry cards granted them temporary power. Chests opened, revealing weapons, manuals, pills. The air buzzed with the scent of ambition and jealousy.
Yet through it all, Jian remained still. Watching. Waiting. His presence was quiet, but every so often a disciple's eyes would drift toward him, curiosity plain in their gaze.
The boy who had been mocked at the start no longer seemed so small.
Among the elders, voices whispered again.
"His performance earlier cannot be overlooked."
"Even compared to Zhang Hu?"
"…Perhaps not yet. But potential does not always reveal itself all at once."
The trial continued until the elder's gaze finally settled once more on Jian Wushen.
The crowd hushed.
"Jian Wushen," the elder's voice rang out, solemn and heavy, "step forward again."
The silence that followed was deafening. Disciples leaned in, hearts pounding. Some smirked, expecting him to falter a second time. Others waited with bated breath, wondering if lightning could strike twice.
Jian rose slowly, his hand already resting on the Immortal Spear. He stepped forward, each footfall steady, measured. The hum of the spear grew louder, a rhythm only he could hear.
The runes on the platform ignited once more. But this time, the light flared brighter, fiercer, as though responding not just to the trial… but to him.
Gasps filled the air. Even the elders stiffened.
"What is this?"
"Why is the trial reacting differently?"
Jian Wushen walked into the glow, his figure bathed in light, the spear gleaming like a sun.
The next trial had begun.
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