The Trial

The air crackled with residual power.

High above the heads of the remaining candidates, on a platform that seemed carved from a solid cloud, figures began to shimmer into existence.

Eight powerful cultivators, their auras blazing like individual suns, took their seats.

At the very center sat an old man with a beard so long it brushed the floor of the platform, his presence so immense and ancient it felt like the mountain itself was watching them.

This was the Founder of the Sword Character Immortal Palace.

Just as the crowd's collective awe reached its peak, the space beside the platform rippled like disturbed water.

Two more figures emerged.

A woman of such breathtaking beauty and chilling authority that the air grew colder, her robes the color of a winter sky.

And beside her, a younger girl in vibrant red, her face so perfectly sculpted she seemed unreal.

"Lady Thalassa," the Founder grumbled, his voice like the grinding of ancient stones.

"I wasn't aware the Mistvale Sect was in the business of poaching disciples these days.

Are your own standards slipping?"

"I'm merely observing, old friend," the woman, Lady Thalassa, said with a smile that could freeze fire.

Her gaze, sharp as broken glass, swept over the candidates below.

"And perhaps… offering a small, preliminary test. To weed out the truly hopeless."

Before anyone could react, she raised a delicate hand. The world dissolved.

"What the hell?" Michael gasped.

The sky was melting like hot wax, dripping in psychedelic, rainbow-colored streams.

The stone ground turned to churning water, and the other candidates began screaming as they were swallowed by giant, rainbow-colored fish with human teeth.

It's an illusion, you dolt!

Umbra's voice snapped in his head, sharp and irritated.

A powerful one.

Stop staring at the stupid fish!

Focus on the source!

The old bat on the platform!

She's projecting her will. Cut the connection!

Michael gritted his teeth, his Divine Sense lashing out like a whip.

He ignored the melting world, the screaming candidates, and the frankly ridiculous-looking fish.

He focused all his will, all his ten years of forged mental fortitude, on the serene, smiling face of Lady Thalassa.

For a fleeting moment, her perfect smile wavered. The illusion flickered. The sky was just a sky again. The ground was solid stone.

He glanced around. Most of the remaining candidates were still screaming, flailing at invisible monsters, or trying to swim through the stone floor.

But he wasn't the only one who had broken free.

He saw four others standing calmly amidst the chaos.

A stoic, grim-faced man in black robes.

A handsome youth with an easy, confident smile.

A plump boy who was calmly munching on a meat bun.

And the girl in red, Chloe Virelle.

She met his gaze for a split second, her flawless eyes wide with shock and surprise, before she quickly looked away.

On the platform, an elder leaned in and whispered to Lady Thalassa.

"The lucky star on her brow… it's glowing, my Lady.

Her fated one is among them."

Lady Thalassa's eyes narrowed, a flicker of genuine interest in her gaze as she looked between the five unaffected candidates below.

The Founder cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being upstaged in his own front yard.

"An amusing parlor trick.

Now, for the real test."

He waved a dismissive hand.

"The Stele of Truth is… being polished. Yes.

So, the rules have changed.

Instead, each of you will be personally inspected by our esteemed guardian."

A ripple of pure terror went through the crowd.

From the shadows behind the platform, a creature padded into view.

It was a beast the size of a carriage, with the muscular body of a lion, the scaled neck of a dragon, and a single, impossibly intelligent, golden eye that seemed to see right through flesh and bone.

It radiated an ancient, terrifying power that dwarfed even the elders on the platform. The Smaug Beast.

Michael's blood ran cold.

"Okay, now we're screwed.

That thing will see right through my suppressed cultivation.

It's a Divine Beast of Chaos!"

Relax, Umbra sent, sounding profoundly bored.

That's just Tiberius. My fifth little brother.

Michael's jaw dropped. Your… what?

We used to play cards back in the Primordial Chaos. He was terrible at it. Still owes me three star systems.

Don't worry, I just had a little chat with him. We're good.

The test began. The Smaug Beast, Tiberius, moved with a horrifying grace down the line of candidates, its massive golden eye staring into each one.

"Foundation Establishment!

You hide your power like a child hiding behind a curtain!

Get out!" it boomed, its voice shaking the very air.

A young man was unceremoniously flung from the square by an invisible force.

"Gold Core! You have some nerve! Be gone!"

A woman shrieked as she was teleported away in a flash of light.

It exposed a dozen cheaters in minutes, its judgment swift and absolute.

Finally, it stood before Michael.

The massive golden eye, filled with the wisdom of ages and the fury of a thousand storms, stared directly into his soul.

For a heart-stopping moment, Michael was sure he was caught.

Then, the great beast winked.

"Lo Refining, Peak Stage," it announced, its voice suddenly flat and unimpressed.

"Barely passable. A foundation as stable as a three-legged stool. Move along."

Michael let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding and quickly shuffled forward.

He had passed the first hurdle.

But as he took his place among the survivors, a new wave of anxiety washed over him. The initial culling was over.

Now, the real fun would begin.

An elder with a stern face and robes the color of thunderclouds stepped forward.

"Congratulations to the four hundred and seventeen of you who remain.

You have proven you possess, at the very least, a stable mind and an honest heart.

Or, in some cases, a very well-connected pet."

He gave Michael a pointed look that made his skin crawl.