The descent felt endless, as if they were plunging into an abyss where light dared not follow. Each step seemed to draw them deeper into the earth's embrace, the air growing colder and heavier with a foreboding energy. Han Wei glanced nervously at the walls, his whisper barely audible over the soft shuffle of footsteps. "Was this always here?" he murmured, his voice betraying a tremor of unease.
Yao Qin's dangerous eyes swept across the stonework, taking in the intricate carvings and faintly glowing glyphs that pulsed with a rhythmic energy. "If it was," he said quietly, "it's been reshaped. The Red Dawn Kingdom's ancient routes went deep, but this…" He trailed off, his gaze narrowing as he felt the dark energy thrumming from the walls. "This doesn't feel like the work of righteous cultivators."
The walls bore symbols of conquest and subjugation—chains binding faceless figures, jagged crowns atop shadowy silhouettes. The oppressive energy seemed to seep from these carvings, feeding into the chamber's suffocating aura. Yao Qin's mind flickered back to his previous life, to the Black Phantom Cult's lairs in the Danger Zone. The same suffocating control, he thought, but this is darker. Wilder. The Redbloom King has built something far more insidious.
Scarface led the way, his imposing figure cutting a sharp silhouette against the dim torchlight. His movements were steady, but his presence radiated a volatile tension, as though his injuries had sharpened his edges rather than dulled them. Han Wei followed closely behind him, his breaths shallow, his steps hesitant. Each creak of the stone beneath their feet felt like an omen, as if the ground itself disapproved of their intrusion.
Yao Qin lingered at the back of the group, his sharp gaze dissecting every detail. Though his exterior remained calm, his mind churned. Did the King carve this domain himself, or did he simply awaken something that was already here? The question lingered, unanswered. Yao Qin felt a pang of guilt as his gaze flicked briefly to Han Wei. This trial had never happened in his past life. The rivers of time had already begun to shift, carrying them both into unknown waters. Would Han Wei have been spared this, if not for me? he wondered, the thought gnawing at the edges of his resolve, even as the corridor finally opened into a vast chamber.
The room glowed faintly, illuminated by glyphs etched into the walls and floor. Symbols pulsed with energy, radiating a subtle hum that resonated in Yao Qin's chest. The chamber's design was imposing, calculated to inspire awe and fear. At its centre, candidates huddled together: urchins dressed in tattered rags, mercenaries with hardened expressions, rogue cultivators with flickering auras, and weary labourers with calloused hands. Their eyes darted nervously between the glyphs, the captains seated above, and the heavy iron door at the far end of the room.
Above the chamber, a seating area loomed in shadow. Scarface climbed the stairs to take his place alongside two other captains, their presence casting a long shadow over the proceedings. The first was Grimfang, a hulking body cultivator with a bushy grey handlebar moustache. His wide frame dominated his seat, the massive two-handed greatsword slung across his back seeming almost an extension of himself. His piercing gaze swept across the candidates like a predator sizing up prey.
Beside him sat Snowveil, her curvaceous figure drawing more than a few stares. Dressed in tight-fitting white robes, she exuded an icy elegance that contrasted sharply with her cold, unreadable eyes. A white balaclava covered her lower face, adding an air of mystery to her already distant demeanour. She observed the room with detached precision, her gaze lingering briefly on Yao Qin.
Scarface slumped into his seat with a grunt, his burned lips twisting into a faint smirk. Whether it was approval or disdain was impossible to tell.
In the farthest shadows, beyond the reach of flickering torchlight, a figure sat motionless, his presence equal to the King's. His features were obscured, but the intensity of his gaze felt like a blade pressed to the skin, a quiet power that made the chamber feel even colder. Yao Qin felt the weight of that unseen gaze but did not look up. He focused instead on the trial ahead, his mind already calculating every possible outcome.
The chamber buzzed with nervous energy as the iron door creaked open, and the Redbloom King stepped into view. His crimson robes shimmered faintly, and his eyes gleamed with a sharp, predatory light. The room fell silent, all attention drawn to the man whose will had shaped the events unfolding.
Yao Qin inhaled slowly, steadying himself.
The chamber's atmosphere grew heavier as the Redbloom King approached the centre, his crimson robes trailing like a pool of blood. Each step echoed faintly, the sound sharp and deliberate, as if marking time against the oppressive silence. The air seemed to tighten, carrying with it a faint metallic tang that hinted at blood and power. His gaze swept over the assembled candidates, lingering momentarily on each before moving to the captains seated above. The weight of his presence pressed down on the room, silencing even the faint murmurs of nervous candidates.
"You stand here to prove your worth," the King said, his voice calm yet resonant, cutting through the silence like a blade. "Your strength, your potential, your destiny—all will be laid bare. Those who falter will serve in other ways, or perish. There is no room for mediocrity under my rule."
A massive stone artefact stood at the chamber's centre, its surface etched with ancient glyphs that pulsed faintly with an eerie, rhythmic glow. The King gestured to it. "Step forward. Let the Testing Stone judge you."
The first candidate, a wiry youth with quick eyes, approached the stone hesitantly. He placed his hands on its cold surface, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then the glyphs flared, projecting an image of a serpent coiled around a cracked egg, its scales shimmering with an almost metallic sheen.
"Clever," Snowveil commented, her voice cool. "A thinker. But fragile."
"Not bad for a rat," Grimfang grunted, though his tone lacked enthusiasm.
Yao Qin's sharp eyes narrowed. Cunning, but too cautious, he thought. He'll hesitate when it matters most.
The youth stepped back, shoulders tense, as another candidate moved forward. This one, a burly man with scarred arms, carried himself with the confidence of experience. His hands gripped the stone firmly, and the glyphs responded almost immediately. Above him appeared a raging bull, its horns wreathed in flames as it charged forward.
"Strength," Grimfang said, his moustache twitching with approval. "Look at the lifeforce in that aura. It's wild, untamed—full of fire." Scarface snorted, leaning back with a smirk. "Fire burns bright, but it also burns fast. Let's see if he can handle the heat." The comment drew a few nods and murmurs from the other captains, while a pair of candidates exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves about the intensity of the display. A few others shuffled closer together, as though proximity could shield them from the palpable weight of the bull's fiery energy.
Scarface, seated nearby, let out a dry chuckle. "Wild enough to break, but fire like that will eat him alive without someone to direct it. He's mine."
Grimfang turned to Scarface, his moustache bristling with irritation. "Look at you, Scarface, half-charred and still puffing your chest. Perhaps the Tang didn't break you hard enough." Grimfang stood, his massive frame casting an imposing shadow. "Raging Bull is mine."
Scarface watched Grimfang approach, licking his seared lips. His burnt body tensed, convulsing with barely contained excitement. The captains exchanged glances, some smirking at the brewing confrontation while others remained silent, their gazes flicking between the two.
Below, a few candidates murmured nervously, their voices blending with the crackle of tension in the air. One leaned to another, whispering, "If they fight, will it be here? Or somewhere far worse?" Rising to meet Grimfang, he flexed his remaining arm, eager for a bloody contest.
"Enough," Snowveil interjected softly, her tone cutting through the tension. "Our liege is watching. And his guest as well."
The shadowy figure at the back of the room shifted slightly, his gaze cutting into them like knives. Unlike the King's, this presence was far more dangerous, an aura that spoke of countless victories in a game none of them fully understood. Grimfang's gaze darted uneasily toward Snowveil, his moustache twitching as though seeking reassurance. Snowveil, in turn, sat rigid, her icy eyes narrowing with a flicker of apprehension. Their usual bravado seemed to dissolve under the weight of his attention, leaving an unspoken tension that crackled in the air.
The Redbloom King's sharp gaze landed on them, silencing Grimfang and Scarface. With a collective shudder, they retreated to their seats, the weight of his disapproval palpable.
"Fine, take him," Scarface muttered, waving away the tension. "He's too wild for my crew anyway."
Grimfang grumbled but held his tongue, the faint satisfaction of victory flickering in his eyes.
Yao Qin watched silently, suppressing a smirk that he dared not let show. A bull causing a fight amongst the farmhands, he thought dryly.
The next candidate was a woman with sharp features and a confident stride. Her hands touched the stone, and a whirlwind of ice and shards materialised above her, spinning in a controlled frenzy that made the air itself seem to shiver.
"Now that is intriguing," Snowveil said, leaning forward slightly. "Controlled. Sharp. That precision doesn't come without years of discipline. She's more dangerous than she looks—someone who knows exactly when and where to strike." The candidates nearby exchanged nervous whispers, their voices carrying fragments of awe and fear. "She could cut us all down if she wanted," one muttered, earning a sharp nod from another.
"Could be useful," Grimfang admitted. "If she doesn't turn on us first."
Efficient and deadly, Yao Qin thought, his respect growing despite himself. She knows her strengths and isn't afraid to use them. A dangerous combination.
The fourth candidate, a gaunt man with trembling hands, stepped forward next. The glyphs reacted sluggishly, struggling to form an image. When they finally did, it was a flicker of stagnant water, dark and murky. The silence in the chamber grew heavy.
"Waste of time," Grimfang spat, leaning back with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Barely worth the stone's effort," Snowveil added, her tone icy.
Yao Qin's gaze didn't linger. Unfocused and weak. He won't last long here.
When Han Wei's turn came, his hands shook as he pressed them to the stone. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a dim light flickered weakly above it, struggling to form even the faintest outline. The glyphs' hum faltered, as if unimpressed.
"Pathetic," Grimfang muttered, his lips curling into a sneer. "Barely worth the effort." Han Wei flinched at the words, his face tightening as if struck. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he didn't lift his gaze, stepping back with slumped shoulders. The faint murmurs from the candidates behind him felt like daggers against his back, and Yao Qin felt a flicker of guilt rise unbidden. *He doesn't deserve this. *
Snowveil's gaze passed over Han Wei, cold and dismissive. "A shadow of potential. If even that."
"He's the one for you Scarface, right up your trashy alleyway!" Grimfang burst out laughing.
Scarface stayed silent, contemplating. His eyes shifted between Yao Qin and Han Wei, calculating the value of each—a tool and the leverage to wield it. A scorched smile crept across his face, "I'll take him."
Grimfang shot him a look of twisted curiosity, his moustache twitching in what might have been confusion or disdain. With a grunt, he crossed his arms, his wide frame settling back into his seat.
Snowveil sat in quiet contemplation, her icy gaze shifting between Scarface and Han Wei. Unlike the other captains, she couldn't help but wonder what Scarface had seen that she had missed.
"Next," the King commanded.
Another dozen candidates passed through, each stepping forward to place their hands on the stone. A lanky man with a scar across his cheek projected an image of a fox curled around a blazing star, earning murmurs of admiration for his cunning and fire. Grimfang leaned forward with a gruff chuckle. "Foxes are sly but slippery. Let's hope this one can keep its footing."
Snowveil's gaze lingered on the image, her expression unreadable, before she finally remarked, "Cleverness like that often leads to betrayal, but it's useful—if leashed."
A young woman with a steady gaze manifested a golden stag standing amidst a storm, its antlers crackling with energy—eliciting sharp nods of approval from Snowveil and Grimfang. The remaining candidates struggled to produce faint and unimpressive images, their auras flickering weakly, drawing only silence or faint scoffs from the captains. Some earned murmurs of approval or disdain from the captains, while others left no impression at all. The tension in the chamber grew heavier with each attempt, the weight of expectation pressing down on those who remained. Finally, it was Yao Qin's turn.
He stepped forward, his movements deliberate and calm. He placed his hands on the stone, its surface cold against his skin. The moment his palms touched it, the glyphs erupted with blinding light. The chamber grew silent as the image above the stone began to take shape.
A phoenix emerged, but not one of fire and majesty. It was a grotesque abomination, its skeletal frame shackled by chains that seemed to strain and groan with each movement. Gasps rippled through the candidates, some recoiling instinctively as if the vision might consume them. Grimfang's moustache twitched as he leaned back slightly, muttering, "That's no destiny—it's madness."
One candidate whispered, "What kind of fate is that?" while another shuddered, adding, "An accursed one!"
Above, Snowveil's cold gaze lingered on the grotesque manifestation, her lips pressing into a thin line of unease. The captains tried not to vomit, their confidence shaken as they grappled with the heretical display before them.
Shreds of decaying flesh clung stubbornly to its bones, and its wings, jagged and tattered, flapped with a sound like cracking sinew. At its core, a crimson heart pulsed violently, each beat sending rivulets of dark blood oozing from hollow, weeping eyes. The air around it bent and twisted unnaturally, as though reality itself recoiled from its presence, the very sight teetering on the edge of what the mind could endure.
The room froze. Even those hardened by years of battle and bloodshed, recoiled at the sight. Grimfang's hand unconsciously gripped the hilt of his greatsword, his wide frame leaning forward in disbelief.
"What in the nine hells…" he murmured.
Snowveil's icy composure cracked ever so slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied the manifestation. "It's not natural," she said softly, her voice tinged with unease.
In the shadows above, the unnamed figure equal to the King shifted slightly, his gaze locked onto Yao Qin. The atmosphere grew colder, an almost imperceptible ripple of tension spreading through the room. The captains exchanged uneasy glances, their usual courage visibly dimmed under the weight of his scrutiny.
Among the candidates, some instinctively stepped back, their whispers fraught with uncertainty. "He's more terrifying than the King," someone murmured.
The silent intensity of his attention made the air grow colder, as if the chamber itself had taken notice.
"He's mine!" Scarface shouted, his voice shattering the heavy silence like a hammer on glass. The declaration echoed through the chamber, leaving no room for challenge.
Neither Grimfang nor Snowveil challenged him, their silence a testament to the shock still gripping them. Both captains remained fixed in their seats, their expressions unreadable as they processed the grotesque manifestation they had just witnessed.
The Redbloom King's expression remained unreadable, though his eyes gleamed with something akin to interest—or perhaps calculation. "Fascinating," he said at last, his voice cutting through the tension. "Chains that bind, yet cannot hold. Death that persists. Rebirth through decay. Tell me, boy—what do you see?"
The King's words rippled through the chamber like a chilling wind, silencing even the faintest murmur. The captains leaned forward slightly, their expressions a mix of curiosity and unease. Among the candidates, a few sweat through their clothes, as though the question were directed at them instead.
Yao Qin hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind racing. Chains that bind yet cannot hold… am I still trapped by the echoes of my past life, or have I broken free?
The grotesque phoenix burned in his mind, a reflection of his unyielding will but also his lingering scars. He forced himself to meet the King's gaze, steadying his voice as he replied, "I see what I am meant to be."
The King's lips curved into a faint smile. "We shall see."
The Redbloom King's gaze swept over the candidates one final time, his eyes narrowing slightly as if weighing each soul before him. "The following names have earned their place in my favour," he announced, his voice cutting through the silence like a judge passing sentence. The faintest curl of his lips hinted at approval, though his tone left no room for misinterpretation—this was not praise, but an expectation.
"Huin Li, for her 100-Year Yin Body, a vessel of unmatched precision and control. Taren Fang, for his fiery strength, embodying the untamed spirit of a Raging Bull. And Yao Qin, for his… potential, bound yet unyielding."
As the chosen names echoed through the chamber, murmurs of envy and disappointment spread among the unchosen. One young man, his fists trembling, muttered under his breath, "Next time, it'll be my name they call." Nearby, a gaunt woman shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "You're delusional. We're lucky we weren't killed outright."
Some cast bitter glances at the selected few, while others clenched their fists, their determination hardened for the trials to come.
At the mention of their names, the chosen candidates stepped forward. Huin Li bowed deeply, her expression composed but her hands trembling slightly. Taren Fang gave a sharp nod, his fiery presence almost daring anyone to challenge his place. The others watched in silence, their disappointment written across their faces as they retreated to the edges of the chamber, murmuring among themselves about their chances in the next trial.
A murmur ran through the chamber as the King continued. "The rest of you will have the opportunity to prove yourselves in the following trials. Remember, mediocrity is death in my domain."
The glyphs dimmed as Yao Qin stepped back. The silence in the room was deafening, the grotesque image burned into the minds of everyone present. He could feel their stares—a mix of fear, awe, and something he couldn't quite place. But he did not falter.
Han Wei's eyes met his briefly, filled with a mixture of relief and despair. "Why did I even try?" Han Wei spat bitterly, the weight of his failure pressing down on him.
Yao Qin's gaze lingered for a moment longer, his own guilt bubbling beneath his composed exterior. I dragged him into this, Yao Qin reflected, before steeling himself. But I won't let it end here. Yao Qin looked away, his resolve hardening.