Fang Hao, along with everyone else, arrived at the center of the expansive arena, awaiting the Sect Master's instructions.
He felt confused about why his father hadn't given him any information about the trials.
"A lot of you might be wondering what Willpower is. For now, consider it the determination to fuel your cultivation," he explained, his gaze sweeping over the young faces.
"Take a seat and meditate, prepare yourselves mentally." With those words, he moved away, approaching an elder from the outer sect who was overseeing this trial.
"Any issues?" he inquired, even though he was aware there were none.
"None, we are ready to begin whenever you wish, Sect Leader," the elder responded respectfully. He waited for a moment before receiving a signal.
"It starts now, good luck," the Sect Leader announced, and with those words, a powerful light spread across the arena, casting a red glow.
Fang Hao, upon hearing the Sect Leader's directive, opened his eyes and found himself enveloped in a red light. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness washed over him, prompting him to clutch his head until he regained his balance.
Surveying his surroundings, Fang Hao found himself amidst vast plains where the sounds of screams and the thundering hooves of horses filled the air.
Suddenly, the powerful sound of a horse's approach from behind startled him, causing him to swiftly dodge and narrowly escape a blade aimed at his neck.
Despite his quick reaction, the blade grazed his face, leaving a cut. His complexion turned pale as he touched his cheek, realizing the dampness was indeed blood.
Bringing his hand to his mouth, he tasted the liquid and immediately spat it out, confirming his suspicion of its metallic flavor.
Confusion clouded his thoughts as he muttered, "What is happening?"
"Where am I!?" he muttered, his voice lost amid the chaotic clashes occurring all around him.
Cavalry crashed into others, lifting mud and filling the air with horse screams. Fire and smoke surrounded him, further adding to his confusion.
He found himself amidst a medieval battlefield of mortals, where cold steel weapons gleamed in the sunlight and horses galloped through the fray.
Gruesome scenes of decapitated heads and dismembered bodies surrounded him.
As he took a step, his footing betrayed him, and he slipped, coming face to face with the lifeless visage of a male head.
Recoiling, he crawled away, only to have his hands sink into puddles of blood, triggering an involuntary bout of vomiting.
"This makes no sense," he mumbled, feeling disoriented and sickened.
Amidst the ongoing chaos, a warrior caught sight of him and charged, bellowing a battle cry and wielding a massive great axe.
Instinctively, Fang Hao rolled away from the impending strike, narrowly avoiding the lethal edge, though the axe still grazed his stomach, leaving a searing scratch in its wake.
A sharp cry of pain escaped Fang Hao's lips as he clutched at the wound, the searing agony radiating through his body, threatening to overwhelm him.
The warrior, realizing his initial strike had missed, swiftly retracted the axe before bringing it down once more, this time targeting the grounded Fang Hao.
Faced with imminent peril, Fang Hao quickly retrieved the sword from his spatial ring and activated the Lotus Technique's Defensive Petals.
As the blade descended, the protective petals of the technique shattered under the immense pressure, shielding Fang Hao from the blow and anchoring him further into the mire of mud.
With the weight of the warrior pressing the axe down onto him, Fang Hao's mind raced, and he acted swiftly.
He delivered a forceful kick to the warrior's ankle, causing him to lose balance and topple sideways. Seizing the opportunity, Fang Hao sprang to his feet.
Employing the lotus offensive stance, he executed a slashing motion, propelling petals forward that collided with the man's chest.
The man, struggling to move, screamed in pain and held the wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding, his gaze fixed on Hao.
Breathing heavily, Fang Hao let out a resolute shout and brought the sword down, delivering a fatal blow that ended the warrior's life.
Afterwards, he sank to the ground, his body coated in a mixture of blood and mud.
Amidst the aftermath, his mind swirled with confusion, prompting him to wonder if he had been reincarnated once again.
Acting hastily, he picked up a metal shield that lay nearby and used it as a makeshift mirror, revealing his blood-streaked face and soiled clothes.
''My face still belongs to ...me'' he pondered as he inspected it more closely and gingerly touched the wound on his face. ''It hurts, no doubt about it.''
Attempting to regain his composure, Fang Hao discreetly rubbed the ring on his hand, deep in thought.
He concealed himself amidst the fallen bodies, feigning death to evade notice temporarily.
As he observed the chaos around him, he concentrated his mind on the possibilities. He reasoned that this might not be a reincarnation, but rather a transmigration.
The question lingered: How did this occur within a sect by some of the most formidable individuals in the world? Especially when his father was in close proximity?
"Was it an item? Or that light?" Fang Hao mumbled, the lingering memory of the flash that had enveloped him playing in his mind. He pondered over the possibilities, including the involvement of external factors.
Casting his gaze around, he observed the ongoing clash between two distinct factions, locked in a deadly battle.
One faction donned crimson armor and garments, adorned with a prominent lion emblem, while the other wore blue attire adorned with a serpent motif on their arms.
"I somehow found myself here, amid the midst of two major conflicts?" Fang Hao furrowed his brow, taking in the chaotic scene.
Fang Hao's talent allowed him to perceive the subtle anomalies that might have escaped others' notice.
What he didn't know of was that this very talent had also awaken him from the hypnotic grasp of the formation.
Typically, even an individual at his sister's cultivation rank would fail to detect such distinctions.