Chapter 38 10th stage?

The gate rumbled shut behind them, locking with a low, echoing pulse of ancient Qi. Jin Ye, Shen Li, and Bai Xueqing stood still for a moment, letting their eyes adjust to the darkness.

This chamber was different. It wasn't a battlefield. It wasn't a trap-laced gauntlet.

It felt… solemn.

Rows of jade statues lined the shrine's interior, their expressions blank, but their hands held weapons—swords, sabers, fans, spears. Each one pulsed faintly with a lingering will, as if they weren't just monuments to the past, but watchers of the present.

The floor beneath them was engraved with a massive formation circle, ancient script woven in curves and spirals, glowing in soft gold.

As they stepped forward, the formation activated.

A soft chime filled the room. Then—

A voice, calm and aged, echoed without source.

"Those who seek to inherit legacy must first prove they understand it."

Three beams of light split from the ceiling, encircling each of them and separating them onto different sides of the shrine.

Before Jin Ye, a spectral figure began to form, shaped like a man in flowing black robes. His long hair fluttered despite the still air, and a single sheathed sword rested at his waist.

The figure's eyes opened—clear and calm.

"I am Shen Mu, Fourth Legacy Swordholder of Azure Sky."

He stepped forward, hand resting on his hilt.

"Your blade is unpolished. Your flow is incomplete. Show me what you've learned."

Jin Ye said nothing. He drew his sword in a smooth arc, the air shimmering slightly with the resonance of Flowing Phantom Blade.

The first clash came like lightning.

Shen Mu unsheathed his blade in a single fluid motion—Heavenpiercer Draw.

A single-line sword Qi shot toward Jin Ye like a ray of focused will. He didn't block—it wasn't blockable. Instead, he slipped sideways with Shadow Phantom Step, the blade carving a straight line through where his heart had been a breath earlier.

"Your technique is fast," Shen Mu said, already closing the gap. "But it lacks rhythm."

He followed up with a sweeping horizontal slash—Piercing Sky Arc, designed to trap movement with pressure rather than speed.

Jin Ye grounded his stance and answered with his own.

Flowing Phantom Blade – Second Movement: Slipping Stream.

His sword curved along the inside of the strike, not meeting it head-on but dragging the force aside like water guiding a stone. He twisted into a low stance and countered—a rippling thrust toward Shen Mu's hip.

But Shen Mu spun.

The tip of his sword tapped Jin Ye's forearm—not cutting, but marking him.

"Missed your timing."

Jin Ye backed off, expression unreadable.

Heavenpiercer wasn't just about speed. It was about perfection. Each strike, timed to punish even the smallest misstep. There were no wasted movements—every attack forced a decision.

And Jin Ye had made the wrong one.

He inhaled, steadying himself. Flowing Phantom Blade was not about clashing—it was about reading.

He needed to shift. Not react. Anticipate.

They clashed again. And again. Jin Ye's robes bore shallow cuts now, proof that Shen Mu's technique was eroding his footing slowly.

But slowly wasn't enough.

On the seventh exchange, Jin Ye finally saw it.

A brief pause. A breath. When Shen Mu raised his foot to shift forward, his Qi rippled not with intent, but with preparation.

An opening.

Jin Ye vanished with Shadow Phantom Step, but instead of reappearing behind, he manifested just to the side, off-beat, where no strike had been aimed.

Flowing Phantom Blade – Third Movement: Phantom Current.

His sword didn't clash—it whispered along Shen Mu's ribs, a draw-cut designed not to kill, but to break momentum.

The figure halted, eyes closing as his blade returned to its sheath.

"Well read."

The projection of Shen Mu began to flicker, but not fade. His voice returned, softer now.

"You don't walk a clean path, Jin Ye. You borrow what is not freely given. With every victory, you grow sharper—but every step you take cuts deeper into fate."

Jin Ye's brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing.

The projection raised a hand, pressing a glowing sigil of sword-shaped energy into Jin Ye's palm.

"Your flow will carry you forward. But one day… it may drown you."

With that, Shen Mu disappeared, and the shrine fell silent.

Across the chamber, two more pillars dimmed—Shen Li and Bai Xueqing had passed.

As the mark of sword-shaped energy faded into Jin Ye's palm, Shen Mu's form flickered—but did not vanish.

Instead, the specter stilled, his voice calm yet challenging.

"You have passed… but do you dare to face another challenge."

Jin Ye raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

Shen Mu nodded. "There is another trial. One not meant for those satisfied with just passing. If you desire greater inheritance, step forward—and face me again."

The air tightened instantly, the temperature dropping as a second formation circle ignited around Jin Ye.

"Foundation Establishment," Shen Mu said simply.

Bai Xueqing and Shen Li, now regrouped at the edge of the hall, turned in alarm.

"He's taking another one?" Shen Li muttered. "That guy's insane."

Jin Ye said nothing. He stepped forward into the new ring, his fingers tightening around his sword.

The moment the formation completed, Shen Mu's aura exploded outward, far heavier than before. His robes shifted, body glowing with a dense internal core—true Foundation Establishment power.

The first strike came without warning.

Heavenpiercer Sword – Void Cleave.

A pulse of condensed sword Qi sliced toward Jin Ye, forming a jagged rift in the stone floor behind him even as he dodged.

He didn't have time to play defensive—this wasn't about waiting. This was about dominating or being crushed.

Jin Ye's sword flared as he activated his refined style:

Flowing Phantom Blade – Phantom Current.

He engaged, matching Shen Mu's intensity, dancing around killing blows, always within an inch of death.

But it wasn't enough.

Shen Mu was faster, stronger, more refined. Jin Ye's strikes began to falter, his footwork slipping under the weight of Shen Mu's relentless pressure.

Until—

Clang.

Shen Mu's blade struck Jin Ye's directly. The force rattled through Jin Ye's arms and spine. He skidded backward, boots scraping sparks across the floor.

His breathing slowed.

Then—his vision narrowed.

Everything else fell away.

And then he felt it.

A surge within his sword. Not just Qi. Not just intent. But something deeper—a resonance.

Sword Intent.

Not yet perfect. Not yet sharp. But real.

His blade hummed as if alive.

He stepped forward.

"Flowing Phantom Blade—Fourth Movement: Whispering Cut."

His sword vanished. Not literally—but to the eye, it became indiscernible, a ripple in the air, invisible and precise.

He struck.

Shen Mu parried—almost.

But the blade had already curved—not toward his sword, but past it.

It grazed Shen Mu's ribs, splitting the formation light from within.

The Foundation projection cracked.

And Shen Mu smiled.

"You have it," Shen Mu said, voice steady even as his form began to fade for good.

Jin Ye stood silently, sword at his side, chest rising and falling.

"You've seen the edge of intent. Most do not glimpse it until far later."

He stepped forward and pressed two fingers against Jin Ye's forehead.

"There is a step beyond the ninth."

Jin Ye's breath caught. "What?"

"A forgotten truth—buried by the convenience of conformity. The Tenth Stage of Qi Refinement."

He looked down at Jin Ye's hand.

"When the body, Qi, spirit, and fate align, a cultivator can forge a pseudo-core—one that is not built on Foundation but on identity."

He began to fade fully now.

"Walk it carefully, Fated One. The heavens are watching."

And then he was gone.

Jin Ye stood alone in the dim shrine, sword still humming faintly with the echo of his awakening.

In a quieter part of the Inner Sanctum, where the light from the formation stones grew faint and the walls sweated with moisture, a group of cultivators gathered in a half-circle around a man pacing slowly.

Wang Yiran.

He no longer looked like the smug young master who had strutted through Dawnroot City. His outer robes were gone, replaced with lighter armor, and his eyes burned with something colder than pride—bitterness.

"…he's not even from a clan," he said, voice low, carrying just enough to stir resentment without sounding desperate. "No sect background. No known master. Just walks in and humiliates everyone?"

A Zhao Clan disciple nearby crossed his arms. "He was chosen. The formation didn't lie."

"But how?" Wang Yiran pushed. "How does a nobody—someone who wasn't even in the top ranks a month ago—take down a Foundation Beast and humiliate peak-stage cultivators without a scratch?"

A few heads dipped in silent agreement.

A Liu Clan member who had watched Liu Yan's defeat spat to the side. "Liu Yan still hasn't said a word since that fight."

Wang Yiran stepped closer, his tone silken now. "If he rises any further, none of us get noticed. The sect's eyes are already fixed on him. We came here to secure our futures—not carry someone else's name forward."

Someone muttered, "So what are you suggesting?"

Wang Yiran stopped. Smiled.

"We level the field. While he's distracted. I have connections with formation cultivators—ones who owe me. If we move carefully, strike in the next phase…"

The thought hung in the air.

A few hesitated. But more than one nodded.

Resentment was a powerful glue.

Back near the legacy shrine, the trio regrouped in a side chamber lit by soft, golden light. Shen Li leaned against a stone brazier, gaze scanning the open halls they had just come from.

"You feel that?" he asked quietly.

Jin Ye didn't look up. "Feel what?"

"The shift," Shen Li said, tilting his head. "How they look at you now. Like you're not a person—just something standing in their way."

Bai Xueqing folded her arms, frowning slightly. "I noticed it too. Some of them aren't just annoyed. They're reorganizing. You beat one of their best—humiliated another. Now you're marked."

Jin Ye sheathed his sword with a soft click. "Doesn't matter."

Shen Li smirked. "I knew you'd say that."

"But," Jin Ye added, "if they're coming, I want to see how far they're willing to go."

Bai arched a brow. "You're going to bait them?"

He offered a slight grin. "No. I'm just not stepping aside."

The glow of their legacy marks began to pulse, drawing their attention to a massive door beyond the shrine, shaped like a vertical ring, its surface carved with flowing lines of fate, cycles, and forgotten names.

As the three stepped forward, the runes flared, and the door began to shift—layers of ancient mechanisms clicking and rotating in rhythm with their presence.

The center opened like an iris, revealing a path cloaked in cold wind and echoing silence.

From beyond, a low whisper drifted through. Not a voice—more like a breath drawn from memory.

Bai narrowed her eyes. "That… wasn't just ambient Qi."

Shen Li rolled his shoulders. "Whatever's in there, it's old—and it's aware."

Jin Ye stepped forward without hesitation, the mark on his palm glowing brighter.

Above the door, a single inscription etched itself into the stone:

"Beyond this threshold lies truth. And truth requires sacrifice."

He passed through first.

And the shadows welcomed him.