Riley sat in a lotus position beneath the ocean's depths, his eyes closed and his aura calm. With a single thought, he willed himself to break through to the Void Tribulation Realm.
Bang!
Thunder roared across the skies above, shaking the very heavens. In mere moments, the sound of crackling lightning echoed across the entire Nine Cauldrons Continent.
Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
The deafening booms reverberated, audible to everyone, everywhere. Ordinary people, caught in the chaos, were thrown into panic.
"What in the goddess's name is happening right now?"
"It's the end of the world! Everyone, run!"
"Repent for your sins! It's not too late!"
While the common folk scrambled in fear, the more learned—the ancient powerhouses who understood the significance of such phenomena—gathered their thoughts and quickly rushed toward the source of the disturbance.
When they reached the ocean's edge, they were greeted by a sight of unparalleled chaos. Lightning surged and twisted, illuminating the horizon with dazzling, destructive brilliance.
The skies and seas churned in violent disarray, creating a scene of apocalyptic grandeur.
"Hmmm... Someone's attempting to break through to the Void Tribulation Realm," one elder murmured, his voice laced with awe and trepidation.
"Does anyone know who it is?" another asked.
"Your guess is as good as mine," an elder replied, stroking his beard.
"But what's peculiar is that this senior doesn't seem to have any dao protectors in place, nor any defensive formations."
"Yes," another chimed in.
"Normally, one would prepare extensively—strategic locations, defensive arrays, and even the aid of trusted allies are the norm for surviving a heavenly tribulation. Yet this senior chose the Abyss Ocean of all places, far from any support. It's hard to say whether this is reckless folly or unparalleled genius."
"Indeed," said another expert, his tone thoughtful.
"This is the first time I've heard of someone attempting a breakthrough in the Abyss Ocean. Not even ancient texts or recorded histories mention such an unconventional choice."
As the gathered sect masters and elders exchanged their observations, their attention turned to the eerie and overwhelming presence emanating from the center of the storm.
"Still," one powerhouse muttered, his gaze fixed on the phenomenon, "that shadow… it's terrifying to behold."
He was referring to the giant, faceless hangman's figure towering over Riley's submerged form.
The spectral entity stood an imposing 2,000 feet tall, its rope noosed around its neck and seemingly descending from the vaults of heaven itself.
This shadowy avatar concealed Riley's true identity while exuding an aura of oppressive might.
The manifestation, sometimes called a fighting spirit or an avatar, was a reflection of one's comprehension of the dao, their achievements, and the weight of their experiences.
Only the most gifted, those who had weathered monumental tribulations or achieved unparalleled feats, could hope to manifest such an entity.
The experts watching from the shore felt a mix of awe and unease as the hangman's presence dominated the horizon.
"This is no ordinary cultivator," an elder finally said, his voice hushed. "Whoever this is… they are a true anomaly."
As the lightning continued to crash down, the onlookers could only watch, wondering who this mysterious figure was and what heights they sought to conquer.
BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
Pillars of lightning rained down faster and more violently, their size growing until they seemed to dominate the heavens.
The sheer weight of their descent created an oppressive spectacle, one that left onlookers breathless.
Each strike landed on the towering hangman figure, but not a single bolt managed to pierce its dreadful, shadowy skin.
The avatar stood unyielding, a monolith of defiance against the heavens' wrath.
The gathered cultivators stared in awe, their faces pale with disbelief. The sheer ferocity of this heavenly tribulation was unprecedented, a testament to the mysterious figure's extraordinary fate.
The disturbance was so intense it roused even the continent's peak cultivators—those ancient beings who had long secluded themselves within their cultivation coffins.
Stirred from their slumber, they extended their divine senses across millions of kilometers, bridging the distance to the abyssal ocean to witness the source of such celestial fury.
Silence hung over these awakened beings as they observed the unfolding chaos. For many, memories of their own tribulations surfaced, and they couldn't help but compare.
The conclusion was unanimous: the trials they endured paled in comparison to the heavens' wrath that now raged over the ocean.
Some chose to remain within their coffins, unwilling to involve themselves in what they perceived as an event fraught with danger.
Yet a few, driven by greed or curiosity, ventured out, their thoughts filled with speculation.
"Is this a fortuitous encounter… or a grave danger?" muttered one such ancient as he appeared at the very edge of the tribulation.
The old man was frail-looking, his bald head glistening under the sporadic flashes of lightning.
A long white beard cascaded down his chest, and his stooped figure might have been mistaken for that of a mortal, were it not for the potent spiritual essence radiating from his body.
Ding!
A stray bolt of lightning lanced toward him, piercing his shoulder before he could react. He stumbled back a step, retreating to safety.
Blood seeped from the wound but healed almost instantly, a testament to his formidable regenerative abilities and the resilience of his tempered body.
"Hmmm…" The old man's eyes narrowed as he studied the enormous shadow of the hangman. Its faceless visage loomed ominously, an unsettling presence that seemed to radiate judgment itself.
By all logical accounts, this was the perfect moment to strike. There were no dao protectors, no defensive formations, no apparent safeguards in place. Yet, the old man hesitated.
His instincts screamed at him, a primal warning that chilled him to the bone.
"Death," he murmured under his breath, the single word carrying a weight that left no room for doubt.
He sighed, withdrawing his gaze. Despite the tantalizing opportunity, the price of interference was clear. This was not a battle to join, nor a force to provoke.
In the end, the old man chose to watch in silence, retreating from any plans of meddling in this extraordinary affair.