Chapter Fifty: I Lay My Cards on the Table

The very first step!

As soon as he set foot upon it, Tianming felt a weight pressing upon him, but it was as slight as a feather drifting onto his body—utterly negligible.

“It’s nothing. Anyone with legs can cross this,” he said with disdain, lifting his head.

No wonder, really—the first step demanded only the strength of an entry-level martial artist, so how could it possibly trouble someone at the fifth level of the Spirit Void Realm?

“Is that so? Then let’s see how you feel after the fortieth step,” Qing Po remarked, a hint of meaning in his tone.

If it were really so simple, this wouldn’t have been deemed the third trial. That much was obvious.

“Oh? Since you say that, I’ll have to reach the fiftieth step just to prove you wrong!”

Tianming understood this, of course, but he couldn’t help but want to contend. After all, what is life if not a struggle to prove oneself?

Keep boasting, then...

Floating above, Qing Po’s gaze swept over Tianming, utterly unconvinced by his words.

“What a joke—you really think I’m going to climb step by step?” Tianming shook his head and chuckled softly.

Qing Po said nothing, but Tianming could clearly sense the disbelief in the air around him.

Hmm?

Qing Po glanced at Tianming in surprise, sensing an unexpected confidence in the youth. Could he have already grasped the trick behind this trial?

Taking a deep breath, Tianming paid no mind to Qing Po’s gaze, for he preferred to let his actions speak for themselves.

Without further ado, he leaped from the first step, vaulting upward.

In an instant, the faint pressure upon him surged, yet it could not halt his forward momentum...

Alas, he fell short.

He landed on the eleventh step.

Were it not for the ever-increasing pressure, he might have soared all the way to the twentieth, with strength to spare.

But that was wishful thinking.

Upon reaching the eleventh step, Tianming realized things were not so simple after all.

Each step was growing longer. Now, each spanned over a hundred meters; to jump directly to the twenty-first, he would need to leap a full kilometer—and withstand immense pressure along the way.

A kilometer is no small distance. Even flying—with a bamboo copter, perhaps—would take a minute or so; otherwise, he’d be grounded.

“Damn it, Qing Po, you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Tianming couldn’t help but grumble as he stared at the noodle-long steps before him.

They hadn’t seemed so long before, but now they stretched wide before him—clearly a deliberate challenge.

“Did you really think you were the first to try this method?” Qing Po replied with some exasperation.

He had to admit, this was a foolish approach—one that completely disregarded the guardian of the trial.

How could Qing Po allow such antics? He had quietly tweaked the rules, though of course he would never admit it.

...

Pressure of the Qi-Gathering Realm—steps eleven through twenty...

The weight grew with each step, from a feather to a mountain pressing down on Tianming.

Foundation Establishment Realm pressure—steps twenty-one through thirty...

Each now measured two hundred meters; two kilometers to cross.

Soon, Tianming reached the thirty-first step—Spirit Void Realm pressure.

An overwhelming force bore down upon him...

“Hah... finally made it!” Tianming gasped, out of breath.

He had no sense of time as he leaped across those two kilometers, all while laboring under crushing pressure.

Now, he felt as if he carried a mountain a thousand meters high on his back. His legs trembled, his body shook...

He had exhausted his strength, and worse, his reserves of spiritual energy were nearly depleted.

Though he had reached the Spirit Void Realm, his cultivation was unstable—a product of forced advancement rather than true understanding. He could only rely on instinct to resist.

This put him at a disadvantage, and while Tianming knew it, there was nothing he could do—his time in training had been short.

But he had no choice. Now, he had to muster all his will and press forward in one final surge!

Focus!

Otherwise, he might collapse and never rise again. With this in mind, Tianming desperately drew in what little spiritual energy he could from his surroundings, converting it for his own use.

A meager stream of energy circulated within him.

But unfortunately, he was burning through it far faster than he could replenish it—drawing now on his very core.

“Damn it, you’re forcing me to go all out!”

Gritting his teeth, Tianming ignored the oppressive force and his fear of heights.

In a flash, a faint silvery glow spread from his body, enveloping him, as a small whirlwind howled around him.

A cry erupted from deep within.

High above, a silver-white figure leapt forward like a fierce tiger, streaking through the air with lightning speed, leaving white afterimages flickering in his wake, accompanied by a primal shout from his very soul...

“Young people—always so reckless,” Qing Po muttered, shaking his head.

Complaints aside, Qing Po watched closely, ready to intervene should danger arise.

Of course, before that, Tianming would have to suffer a little—to temper his arrogance.

Meanwhile...

On the thirty-ninth step...

Hardly had Tianming caught his breath when an unprecedented pressure—Spirit Void, level nine—began to torment him mercilessly. It was an experience he never wished to repeat.

Blood trickled from his lips, but Tianming paid no heed to his battered state; he simply dragged himself forward, leaving a trail behind.

It was a wretched scene, yet strangely inspiring...

But when he saw that the fortieth step was still more than two kilometers away, he nearly gave up.

Clearly, Qing Po intended to prevent him from advancing further. But would Tianming admit defeat?

Never.

“To hell with it, I won’t pretend anymore—I’ll show my hand!”

He slammed his fists into the ground and roared.

Just then, he received help from the ever-resourceful Dora: if he sacrificed six minor realms, he could unleash ultimate power.

What reason did he have to refuse?

No sooner had the words left his lips than—

The world changed in an instant.

Thunder as fierce as the roar of dragons and tigers crashed down from the heavens.

Two vast rings of golden light descended from the sky, enveloping the bloodied figure as he struggled to rise.

Simply by standing, he emanated an ineffable aura; supreme majesty swept over the steps, erasing all pressure as if it had never existed...

The protagonist’s halo.

The aura of China’s great destiny.

Two towering characters shone above his head, auspicious clouds swirling around him, ethereal immortal energy drifting in all directions, shrouding all in mystery...

This was a power that transcended all things.

A spurt of blood, and Qing Po’s face turned deathly pale, his mind emptied of all thought...

As golden light burst forth, Qing Po felt utterly insignificant—a mere speck in the vast sea of stars.

He forgot his own name, forgot where he was.

He knew only that this was something sacred, not to be desecrated. Helpless and ignorant, Qing Po could only kneel in reverence.

His whole body trembled; he dared not even raise his head, as if to look upon that light would be the greatest sin.