At the peak of Mount Qingshui, the wind ceased to blow.
Three vast auras stood facing one another, forming a triangular pressure that made the sky itself feel lower.
The Buddhist Sect.
The Sword God Sect.
The Sacred Demon Sect.
They had not come to fight.
They had come to recruit.
Ghulai stepped half a pace forward.
The golden light around him dimmed into something gentle, non-oppressive, as if yielding the way.
"Yunxihua," he said softly, his voice echoing like a prayer,
"you have shaken the world.
The Soul Refinement Sect and the Ancient Fu Clan have already set their eyes on you. If you stand alone… karma will devour you."
Rulai pressed his palms together and bowed slightly.
"Enter the Buddhist Sect. We do not promise worldly protection—
but we promise a path of life."
Before Yunxihua could answer, the sound of a sword sliced through the air.
Luoshen stepped forward.
His sword intent fused with the mountain—sharp yet restrained.
"In this world," he said coldly,
"the weak are used as pieces. The strong decide the rules."
Lingfeng smiled crookedly.
"Join the Sword God Sect.
If the Soul Refinement Sect comes… we will greet them with our blades."
Demonic aura suddenly surged.
Loufeng chuckled softly, his voice deep and heavy.
"Buddha speaks of karma.
The sword speaks of rules."
His eyes locked onto Yunxihua.
"Demons speak of freedom."
Yafei stood silent, yet her aura pulsed faintly, like dark fire awaiting fuel.
"You are being hunted," Loufeng continued.
"And those who are hunted… have the right to choose whether to be prey, or become hunters."
Yunxihua stood calmly.
His expression did not change, silver-white hair drifting gently.
"I am grateful," he said sincerely,
"but I have no intention of standing beneath anyone."
The air hardened.
The three sects were neither angry—nor surprised.
Yet at that moment—
in another dimension, Yunxihua's ancient god body trembled.
When Loufeng released a trace of his sacred demonic aura, something long dormant… responded.
Ancient demonic aura rose—dark crimson, heavy, and hungry.
Not ordinary demonic aura.
That aura was similar—
terrifyingly similar to the aura of a god-slaying demon.
Loufeng narrowed his eyes.
Yafei snapped her head up.
Ghulai opened his eyes wide for the first time.
"This is not… a demon of this world," he murmured.
Luoshen unconsciously gripped his sword hilt.
Even Yunxihua himself frowned slightly—he had not released that aura, yet his ancient god body had answered the call.
Loufeng smiled slowly.
"Interesting," he said softly.
"In that case… let us proceed according to the old rules."
The three sect masters moved half a step forward in unison.
"If you wish to be recruited," Luoshen said,
"you must prove that you are worthy."
Ghulai nodded.
"Not to submit. But to endure."
Loufeng stared at Yunxihua, his eyes glowing faintly.
"You will receive one attack from each of us."
Yafei added coldly,
"And you must endure for the time it takes one incense stick to burn."
Mount Qingshui fell into absolute silence.
This was no ordinary trial.
These were attacks from three demigods—
each a ruler of an ancient hidden sect.
Yunxihua drew a slow breath.
Behind his calm exterior, two consciousnesses resonated.
He lifted his head, his gaze clear and steady.
"Very well," he said.
Just one word.
Yet as that word fell—
the sky above Mount Qingshui began to seal itself.
And the first incense stick…
was slowly lit.
Lingfeng's sword intent exploded without warning.
"Bloodslaughtering Sword!" The air roared.
The sword in his hand was no longer a weapon, but pure killing intent—cold, clean, devoid of emotion.
The slash was straight and simple, yet carried the will to erase existence.
Yunxihua did not retreat.
His eyes were clear, his breathing steady.
In an instant, he stepped forward and swung his hand.
"Perfect Emotionless Slash."
No hatred.
No killing intent.
Only absolute emptiness.
The two slashes collided.
BOOM—!
A wave of qi swept across the peak of Mount Qingshui.
Rocks shattered into dust.
Lingfeng's sword trembled violently, and his body was forced half a step back.
His eyes widened.
"This technique…?" he murmured, his breathing slightly heavy.
"Pur-er than mine."
But the gap in realms was too great.
Blood flowed from the corner of Yunxihua's mouth.
He staggered half a step, then steadied himself.
The blood dripped onto the ground, crimson against his silver-white hair.
Lingfeng did not press the attack.
Instead, he laughed softly, filled with fascination.
"Interesting. Very interesting."
Before the world could regain its balance—
the sky split open.
Luoshen raised his hand.
"Heaven-Splitting Art."
Clouds were forcibly dragged apart, the laws of space crackling.
A gigantic sword descended from the sky, its size like a pillar of the world, its tip pointing directly at Yunxihua.
The pressure it carried nearly forced the knees of distant cultivators to buckle.
Yunxihua lifted his head.
His left eye gleamed.
His right eye ignited.
The Nine-Path Dragon Eye.
The world slowed.
The flow of the technique unfolded layer by layer—structure, circulation, points of support. Within its perfection, Yunxihua saw it.
A single flaw.
Extremely small.
"There," he whispered.
He raised his hand.
"Void Slash."
A thin black line split the air.
The gigantic sword stopped—then was drawn in.
Not shattered.
Not broken.
But swallowed by emptiness, vanishing without a sound.
Luoshen stared at him for a long moment.
For the first time, the look in his eyes changed.
"…you truly are a monster."
Yet before the echoes of that technique faded—
demonic aura flooded the sky.
Loufeng stepped forward.
The heavens darkened, and from the void, gigantic demonic hands emerged one after another.
Not just one—dozens. Hundreds.
Each carried ancient slaughtering intent.
"Endless God-Slaying Demon Hands."
The sky was torn apart by black claws.
Yunxihua clenched his teeth.
The blood on his body had not yet dried, yet he did not hesitate.
In another dimension, his ancient god body opened its eyes fully.
"Supreme Primordial Dragon Technique."
A roar shook the heavens.
A pale-golden dragon burst forth from Yunxihua's body, its scales gleaming like ancient laws.
The dragon coiled, bit, and smashed the demonic hands one by one.
The sky collapsed.
The mountain trembled.
Yet the incense stick was nearly burned out.
The dragon began to fade.
Yunxihua dropped to one knee, his breathing ragged, blood flowing from his shoulder. His body trembled—he had endured, but was close to his limit.
At that moment—
Yafei moved.
No sound, no explosive aura.
"Soul-Stitching Technique."
Invisible threads pierced through space, heading straight for Yunxihua's soul.
In an instant, Yafei's consciousness entered Yunxihua's sea of souls.
Then—
she froze.
Two souls.
Connected.
One gentle and clear.
One ancient, heavy, and… staring back at her.
That was not a human soul.
It was the soul of an ancient god.
That gaze fell upon her—without emotion, without intent to attack.
Yet the pressure was enough.
Yafei was thrown out of the sea of souls.
"Uh—!"
Blood flowed from her lips.
The soul threads shattered into fragments.
She stumbled back several steps, her face pale.
"What… was that…?" she whispered, her breathing chaotic.
At the same moment—the incense burned out.
Silence enveloped Mount Qingshui.
Yunxihua was still standing.
His body was gravely injured. His breathing was heavy.
Yet his eyes remained clear.
He had endured.
The three sect masters exchanged glances.
None of them spoke.
But one thing was clear—this trial was no longer merely a trial.
From this moment on,
the name Yunxihua could no longer be treated as that of a junior generation.