The hour passed too quickly.
Lin Feng had used the time to center himself, to review every technique he knew that could be plausibly explained away, to calculate how much power he could use without revealing his true cultivation. It was like trying to fight with one hand tied behind his back—except the hand was actually there, he just had to pretend it wasn't.
The sun had begun its descent toward the western peaks, painting the Grand Testing Grounds in shades of gold and crimson. Symbolic, Lin Feng thought. The day's trials were reaching their conclusion, one way or another.
Elder Shan stood at the center of the main arena—a massive circular space a hundred meters across, ringed by viewing pavilions now packed with spectators. Word had spread about the servant with perfect meridians who kept surviving impossible trials. The entire sect wanted to see how this improbable story would end.
"Trial Four: The Final Confrontation," Elder Shan's voice carried to every corner of the grounds. "Twenty-one candidates remain. You will face inner disciples of our sect in single combat. The pairings are not random—they are designed to challenge you, to push you beyond your perceived limits."
He gestured, and a massive formation array activated overhead, displaying the combat pairings in letters of fire.
Lin Feng found his name quickly:
Arena 1: Candidate 47 (Lin Feng) vs. Inner Disciple Zhao Hai
The crowd murmured. Those who recognized the name Zhao Hai looked at Lin Feng with something between pity and morbid curiosity.
"Zhao Hai?" someone near Lin Feng whispered. "That's Zhao Kun's older brother. He's Divine Domain Level 1—one of the sect's rising stars!"
"Against a Mortal Awakening candidate? That's not a test, that's an execution!"
"Maybe that's the point. Show the servant his place before he gets too confident."
Lin Feng ignored the whispers and focused on the viewing pavilion where the sect leadership sat. Patriarch Cloud watched impassively. Elder Shadow leaned forward with interest. And there, sitting with the Azure Sky delegation, Li Xian smiled like a cat that had finally cornered a mouse.
Through the Dao Thread, Lin Feng felt Yun Qingxue's presence—sharp anxiety mixed with barely restrained fury. She knew what this pairing meant. She'd probably tried to intervene but been overruled by sect politics and her family's obligations.
Stay calm. Trust me. I have a plan.
Whether she felt his reassurance through the bond, he couldn't tell. But her emotions steadied slightly.
"Candidates will proceed to their assigned arenas," Elder Shan continued. "You have five minutes to prepare. Combat will be conducted under standard sparring rules—first blood, surrender, or incapacitation. Killing is forbidden, but injuries are inevitable. Medical disciples will be standing by."
Killing is forbidden. Unless it's an 'accident.' Unless the power disparity is so great that the examiner 'couldn't control his strength.'
Lin Feng walked toward Arena 1, feeling hundreds of eyes tracking his movement. He passed other candidates heading to their arenas, most looking nervous but determined. None of them faced opponents as overwhelmingly superior as his.
Arena 1 was the largest and most prominent—positioned directly in front of the main viewing pavilion. Of course it was. Li Xian wanted everyone to see Lin Feng's humiliation.
At the arena's opposite entrance, Zhao Hai appeared.
Lin Feng studied his opponent carefully. Zhao Hai was twenty-five years old, standing a head taller than Lin Feng with the broad shoulders and corded muscle of someone who practiced body refinement alongside cultivation. His face bore a strong resemblance to Zhao Kun—the same sharp features, the same cold eyes—but refined by additional years and power.
He wore the crimson robes of an inner disciple, with silver embroidery denoting his status as a personal student of Elder Shan. At his waist hung a sword that radiated Divine Domain energy—a spirit weapon bonded to its wielder.
Divine Domain Level 1. The same rank as Lin Feng's true cultivation.
But Zhao Hai had reached that level through traditional means, over years of training. Lin Feng had been forcibly elevated in seven days through an ancient emperor's inheritance. They were technically equal in rank, but vastly different in foundation and experience.
He has years of combat practice. I have the Void Emperor's hundred thousand years of memories. The question is whether theoretical knowledge can overcome practical experience when I can't use my full power.
Zhao Hai walked into the arena with casual confidence. He didn't even spare Lin Feng a glance initially—to him, this was just another obligation, another examination duty. Then his eyes found Lin Feng, and something flickered across his face.
Recognition. And contempt.
"You're the servant who's been making my little brother look like a fool," Zhao Hai said conversationally. His voice carried across the arena, meant to be heard by all. "Lin Feng, was it? The 'Eternal Waste' who suddenly found perfect meridians?"
"I don't seek to make anyone look foolish," Lin Feng replied carefully. "I only seek to prove myself worthy of the sect."
"Worthy." Zhao Hai laughed. "You survived three trials through blind luck and desperate gambles. But luck runs out eventually. And desperation..." He drew his sword—the blade sang as it left its sheath, a high clear note that resonated with power. "Desperation breaks against real strength."
Elder Shan stepped to the edge of the arena. "This is Trial Four. Combat will continue until first blood, surrender, or incapacitation. Do both participants understand?"
"Yes, Elder," they answered simultaneously.
"Candidate Lin Feng, you may withdraw if you feel the disparity is too great. There is no shame in recognizing one's limits."
He's offering me an out. Probably knows this pairing is deliberately unfair.
"I wish to proceed, Elder."
Elder Shan sighed. "Very well. Take your positions."
Lin Feng moved to his starting position, drawing the simple practice sword he'd been using all day. It was unenhanced, purely mundane—a stark contrast to Zhao Hai's spirit weapon. Another deliberate disadvantage.
They faced each other across thirty meters of arena floor. The formation barriers activated, sealing them inside and protecting the audience from stray energy.
The crowd fell silent. In that silence, Lin Feng could hear his own heartbeat, steady and calm. Could feel the void energy flowing through his meridians, coiled and ready. Could sense Yun Qingxue's presence through the Dao Thread, her emotions a storm of worry and hope.
Show them. Show them what the 'waste' has become. But carefully. Always carefully.
Elder Shan raised his hand. "Begin!"
Zhao Hai moved first.
The inner disciple crossed thirty meters in an instant, his speed enhanced by Divine Domain cultivation. His sword came down in a vertical slash that would split Lin Feng from crown to sternum if it connected.
To most observers, the attack was blindingly fast—too fast for Mortal Awakening to perceive, let alone counter.
But Lin Feng saw it in perfect clarity. The Void Emperor's combat experience broke down the attack into its component parts: the angle of approach, the distribution of power, the tiny tells in Zhao Hai's posture that revealed his next three potential moves.
Lin Feng sidestepped. Not with void techniques—that would reveal too much. Just pure footwork, perfectly timed, moving his body the minimum distance necessary to avoid the blade.
Zhao Hai's sword cleaved air, striking the arena floor with a crack that sent stone fragments flying.
The crowd gasped. In the pavilion, even Li Xian's smile faltered slightly.
"Fast reflexes," Zhao Hai acknowledged, recovering his stance. "But reflexes alone won't save you."
He attacked again, this time a combination—three slashes flowing into each other, each one cutting off possible escape routes. It was a technique called "Cascading Mountain," designed to overwhelm opponents with inevitable strikes.
Lin Feng responded with minimal movement, weaving between the attacks like water flowing around stones. Each dodge was calculated to the millimeter—appearing desperate and barely successful while actually being perfectly controlled.
One slash passed so close to his face that he felt the wind of its passage. Another grazed his robe, cutting fabric but not flesh. The third came at his legs, and Lin Feng jumped backward, landing in a crouch.
"Impressive," Zhao Hai admitted, his expression shifting from contempt to interest. "You're better than I expected. But still—"
He pulsed his spiritual pressure—Divine Domain aura washing over the arena like a physical force. Normal Mortal Awakening cultivators would have been driven to their knees by the weight of it.
Lin Feng stood firm. He had to—he was Divine Domain himself, though he couldn't reveal it. Instead, he channeled a tiny fraction of his true power to resist the pressure, making it appear as if his perfect meridians were allowing him to barely withstand what should be overwhelming.
He visibly strained, sweat beading on his forehead, legs trembling. But he remained standing.
Zhao Hai's eyes narrowed. "Those meridians really are exceptional. Very well—let's see how they handle this."
The inner disciple began executing a true Divine Domain technique: "Heaven's Judgment Strike." His sword began to glow with concentrated spiritual energy, building power for a single devastating blow. This wasn't a probing attack—this was meant to end the fight.
Lin Feng had seconds to decide how to respond. He could dodge—his void techniques would make that trivial. But dodging would only delay the inevitable. Zhao Hai would keep attacking until he landed a blow or until Lin Feng was forced to reveal his true power.
I need to counter. Need to show offense, not just defense. But with what? I can't use Divine Domain techniques openly.
Then an idea struck him. Use the void, but make it look like something else.
As Zhao Hai's technique reached its crescendo, Lin Feng began his own response. He channeled void energy—but instead of using it directly, he wrapped it in a shell of normal spiritual energy. The technique would appear to be a Golden Transformation level attack augmented by perfect meridians, when in reality it was Divine Domain void manipulation disguised as something weaker.
"Inverse Piercing Strike!" Lin Feng called out, naming a technique he'd learned from the jade tablet—a legitimate ancient technique that he was supposedly performing above his cultivation level through sheer determination.
His sword thrust forward, wreathed in what appeared to be silver spiritual energy but was actually compressed void.
The two techniques collided in the center of the arena.
The explosion of power rattled the formation barriers. Light and force erupted outward, forcing spectators in the front rows to shield their eyes.
When the light faded, both combatants had been thrown backward. Zhao Hai slid to a stop near the arena's edge, his expression shocked. Lin Feng tumbled across the ground, his practice sword shattered, his arm bleeding where the backlash had torn through his defenses.
First blood.
The arena was silent for a heartbeat. Then Elder Shan's voice: "First blood to—"
"No!" Zhao Hai interrupted, standing. "That doesn't count. He broke his weapon—the injury was self-inflicted, not from my strike."
Elder Shan frowned. "The rules state—"
"I invoke Inner Disciple's Right," Zhao Hai said firmly. "I declare this contest unfinished. I will continue until proper victory is achieved."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Inner Disciple's Right was a rarely used provision that allowed an inner disciple to extend a trial combat if they felt the result was inconclusive. It was meant to prevent candidates from gaming the system with technicalities.
But it also meant Lin Feng, already injured and weaponless, would have to continue fighting.
Elder Shan looked displeased but couldn't override the invocation. "Very well. Candidate Lin Feng, do you have a backup weapon?"
Lin Feng stood slowly, cradling his injured arm. The bleeding was already slowing—his Divine Domain constitution accelerating healing—but he made sure it looked severe.
"No backup weapon, Elder."
"Then—"
"I'll fight unarmed." Lin Feng dropped the shattered sword hilt. "If Inner Disciple Zhao wishes to continue, I won't deny him."
The crowd erupted in shocked exclamations. Fighting unarmed against a sword-wielding Divine Domain cultivator? That was beyond brave—it was suicidal.
Through the Dao Thread, Lin Feng felt Yun Qingxue's horror. She was half-risen from her seat, clearly about to intervene regardless of consequences.
Not yet. One more minute. Trust me.
Zhao Hai looked surprised, then annoyed. "Don't be a fool. Take a weapon from the armory or surrender. I won't hold back against an unarmed opponent."
"I don't need you to hold back." Lin Feng settled into a martial stance—one the Void Emperor had used eighty thousand years ago against three Demi-God opponents. "I need you to fight seriously."
Something in his tone made Zhao Hai pause. For just a moment, the inner disciple looked uncertain. Then his expression hardened.
"As you wish."
Zhao Hai attacked with renewed intensity, his sword techniques flowing faster, more complex. He was no longer testing—he was fighting to win decisively, to prove that Lin Feng's earlier resistance had been a fluke.
But Lin Feng had learned something during their first exchange. Zhao Hai's technique was traditional, orthodox, predictable. The inner disciple had been trained well, but he fought by the book—every move following established forms.
The Void Emperor's combat philosophy was the opposite: chaos masquerading as form, unpredictability wearing the mask of structure. Fight by the book, and you could be countered by someone who'd read that book. Fight by instinct and adaptation, and you became impossible to predict.
Lin Feng began to move.
Without a weapon, his entire body became the tool. He slipped inside Zhao Hai's guard, his palm striking at pressure points. The strikes carried void energy—microscopic amounts, undetectable to observers, but enough to disrupt the inner disciple's spiritual circulation.
Zhao Hai grunted, feeling something wrong but unable to identify what. His next sword strike was fractionally slower.
Lin Feng pressed the advantage. He flowed around attacks that should have caught him, his movements borrowed from styles that predated the sect itself. Each motion was minimal, efficient, beautiful in its economy.
And terrifying in its effectiveness.
He struck Zhao Hai's wrist, and the inner disciple's grip on his sword loosened momentarily. Struck his knee, and his stance wavered. Struck his shoulder, and his spiritual energy circulation stuttered.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the impossible unfolded: a Mortal Awakening cultivator was matching—no, pressuring—a Divine Domain inner disciple in hand-to-hand combat.
Zhao Hai realized he was in danger. "Enough games!"
The inner disciple activated his full Divine Domain aura and manifested his domain—"Mountain's Eternal Weight"—a space where gravity intensified fivefold, where every movement became laborious, where weaker cultivators would be crushed under their own weight.
It was meant to end the fight instantly.
The domain expanded, covering the arena. Lin Feng felt the increased gravity—it would have been crippling to a real Mortal Awakening cultivator.
But Lin Feng had his own domain. The "Eternal Void," far more powerful than Zhao Hai's mountain.
He couldn't manifest it—that would reveal everything. But he could use its power internally, could let void energy flow through his body to counteract the gravity's effects.
To observers, it looked like Lin Feng was struggling under the domain's weight, his movements slower, labored. In reality, he was still operating at full capacity—he was just acting strained.
But I need to end this soon. The longer it goes, the more people will realize something's wrong.
Zhao Hai pressed his advantage, his sword strikes coming faster now, empowered by his domain. "See? This is the difference between us! Power, real power, not luck and tricks!"
"You're right," Lin Feng said, his voice strained. "There is a difference between us."
He stepped forward—appearing to struggle against the gravity but actually moving deliberately.
"You fight with the power you've accumulated. Power given to you by years of resources and training."
Another step. Zhao Hai's sword came down, and Lin Feng caught it.
Not with his hand—that would have been impossible, the blade would have sliced through flesh and bone. Instead, he caught it with void energy shaped like a hand, invisible to normal perception but solid as steel.
The sword stopped mid-strike, held immobile.
"I fight with understanding. With technique perfected over..." Lin Feng paused, almost saying "a hundred thousand years" before catching himself. "...over countless hours of study and practice."
Zhao Hai's eyes widened in shock. His sword wouldn't move. He pushed with his full Divine Domain strength, but the blade remained frozen.
"What—how are you—"
Lin Feng struck.
He released the sword and drove his palm into Zhao Hai's chest—a technique called "Void Palm" that he disguised as "Collapsing Mountain Palm," a legitimate Golden Transformation technique. The strike carried void energy that disrupted spiritual circulation at a fundamental level.
Zhao Hai flew backward, his domain collapsing as his spiritual energy went chaotic. He crashed into the arena's barrier formation and slumped to the ground, conscious but unable to stand, his cultivation temporarily disrupted.
Not permanently damaged—Lin Feng had been careful about that. Just incapacitated enough to end the fight.
The arena was absolutely silent.
Elder Shan stared, his mouth actually open in shock. In the viewing pavilions, cultivators sat frozen, unable to process what they'd witnessed.
Then Elder Shan found his voice: "Winner... Winner: Candidate 47, Lin Feng!"
The crowd exploded.
Shouts, cheers, disbelief, accusations—every emotion poured out simultaneously. The noise was deafening.
In the sect leadership pavilion, Patriarch Cloud stood, his ancient eyes fixed on Lin Feng with an intensity that made the air feel heavy.
Li Xian's face had gone pale, then red with rage. His father, Li Tianlong, looked thoughtful and dangerous.
Elder Shadow's expression was unreadable, but his fingers drummed against his chair's armrest—the first sign of agitation Lin Feng had ever seen from him.
And Yun Qingxue—through the Dao Thread, Lin Feng felt her emotions: shock giving way to joy, relief, and something that felt like pride.
Medical disciples rushed into the arena. Some went to Zhao Hai, helping the dazed inner disciple to his feet and beginning treatment for his disrupted cultivation. Others approached Lin Feng, examining his injuries.
"How are you still standing?" one disciple asked in wonder. "You should be collapsed from exhaustion."
"Perfect meridians," Lin Feng repeated the excuse one more time. "They allow better energy efficiency."
"But that last technique—the force required to—" The disciple shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You need treatment. Your arm is still bleeding, and you're covered in bruises."
Lin Feng allowed them to lead him from the arena, but his attention remained on the viewing pavilions. On the faces of people realizing that their assumptions had been wrong.
He'd been a servant. Waste. Nothing.
Now he'd defeated an inner disciple in front of the entire sect.
Everything had changed.
As he left Arena 1, Lin Feng heard Elder Shan announcing results from the other arenas. Of the twenty-one candidates who'd reached Trial Four, seventeen had completed it—some winning, most losing but showing well enough to pass.
"The Outer Disciple examination is concluded!" Elder Shan's voice boomed. "Seventeen new Outer Disciples will be confirmed at tomorrow's ceremony. Among them—"
He paused, looking directly at where Lin Feng was being treated.
"Among them, one who has proven that genius is not solely determined by birth or initial talent. That perfect meridians combined with determination and intelligence can overcome seemingly impossible odds. Lin Feng, you have shocked us all today. Tomorrow, you will officially join the ranks of Outer Disciples. But I suspect..." Elder Shan smiled slightly. "I suspect that won't be your final destination."
The crowd roared approval—at least, those who weren't still processing their shock or, in some cases, anger.
Lin Feng was led to the medical pavilion, where healers worked on his injuries. The physical damage was minor and healed quickly. But the exhaustion was real—maintaining precise control over his power while appearing weak had been mentally draining in ways that actual combat wouldn't have been.
He was lying on a medical cot, allowing the healers to finish their work, when a presence approached.
Yun Qingxue.
She dismissed the healers with a gesture, then activated a privacy formation around them. The moment it was active, her ice-cold mask cracked completely.
"You absolute fool!" Her voice was quiet but intense. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Any idea how many powerful people are now wondering what you really are?"
"I won," Lin Feng said simply. "Isn't that what we needed?"
"Winning wasn't the problem! Winning that way was!" She paced, her emotions flooding through the Dao Thread—relief and anger and fear all tangled together. "You caught a Divine Domain sword with your bare hand! Disrupted an inner disciple's cultivation with a single strike! People are already calling it impossible, miraculous, suspicious!"
"I disguised the void techniques—"
"Not well enough!" She stopped, looking at him with those ice-blue eyes that had seen through his concealment from the start. "Li Tianlong is demanding an investigation. Elder Shadow is insisting you be tested for demonic cultivation. Half the sect thinks you're using forbidden techniques. The other half thinks you're a once-in-a-millennium genius who needs to be recruited or eliminated before other sects steal you away."
Lin Feng sat up slowly, meeting her gaze. "What do you think?"
"I think..." She sighed, her anger deflating into something softer. "I think you're the most infuriating, stubborn, impossible person I've ever met. And I think..." She looked away. "I think I'm glad you survived. Even if you've made everything infinitely more complicated."
Through the Dao Thread, Lin Feng felt the truth beneath her words. She'd been terrified during the fight. Had been ready to reveal their connection, to throw away everything to save him. And now that he'd won, she didn't know whether to be relieved or more worried about what came next.
"What happens now?" Lin Feng asked.
"Now? Now the real game begins." Yun Qingxue's mask settled back into place, but her eyes remained warm. "Tomorrow's ceremony will confirm you as an Outer Disciple. But that's just the beginning. Li Xian won't accept this defeat. His father certainly won't. And Elder Shadow..." She frowned. "He knows something. I don't know what, but he looks at you like he's seeing a ghost."
"I'll deal with whatever comes."
"Yes, I'm sure you will. You seem remarkably good at dealing with impossible situations." She moved toward the privacy formation's edge, preparing to leave. "Rest tonight. Tomorrow will be difficult. And Lin Feng?"
"Yes?"
"Try to be less impossible for at least a few days. My heart can't take much more of watching you nearly die."
She left before he could respond, deactivating the privacy formation as she went. But through the Dao Thread, Lin Feng felt her lingering presence—worry and affection in equal measure.
He lay back on the medical cot, staring at the pavilion's ceiling. Around him, he could hear healers discussing his case in amazed tones. Outside, the sect was buzzing with speculation about the servant who'd become legend in a single day.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. Li Xian's revenge. Elder Shadow's investigation. The Patriarch's scrutiny. Political machinations from families and factions that saw opportunity or threat in his sudden rise.
But tonight, for just a few hours, Lin Feng allowed himself to feel satisfaction.
He'd survived. More than survived—he'd proven himself. Not as Divine Domain, not as the Void Emperor's heir, but as Lin Feng. Someone who refused to accept the limitations others placed on him.
The "Eternal Waste" had shown the sect what was truly eternal: the refusal to give up, no matter how impossible the odds.
As darkness fell over the Grand Testing Grounds, Lin Feng closed his eyes and let exhaustion claim him. Tomorrow would bring its battles.
Tonight, he'd earned his rest.
END OF CHAPTER 9
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 10: CEREMONY AND CONSEQUENCES