Jian remained still, his mind working through the encounter. Two figures in a single night—one bending the fabric of reality, the other a master assassin. Both had come with warnings, both had left without answers.
And yet, their presence meant something undeniable.
He was no longer just another challenger in the Tower.
He had become a variable. A threat.
Jian exhaled, sheathing his blade. The forest still held that unnatural silence, but he no longer felt watched. Whoever had been following him had either left or decided they had seen enough.
For now.
He turned and continued his path deeper into the Wilds. He needed answers, and standing in the dark, waiting for another assassin to show up, wasn't going to get him any.
The 40th floor was still uncharted territory for most challengers. Unlike the structured battlefields of the lower floors, this place felt alive—untamed, shifting, and unpredictable. It wasn't just a test of strength, but of survival.
And if the Tower was watching him, he intended to give it a show.
---
Elsewhere—The Hidden Chamber
The flickering glow of ethereal lanterns cast long shadows across the chamber's marble walls. A vast, circular table stood in the center, surrounded by cloaked figures, their identities obscured by shifting darkness.
They were the Silent Hand, the ones who acted where the Council did not.
"The Irregular has made his move." The voice came from one of the figures, calm but edged with something unreadable. "The assassin failed."
"She was never meant to succeed." Another voice, deeper, contemplative. "She was meant to measure him. And she has."
A faint hum of agreement passed through the gathering.
"And?" someone finally asked.
A pause. Then, the first figure leaned forward slightly. "He is beyond expectations."
Silence.
The weight of those words settled over the chamber.
"He is still unrefined," one of them said. "But his growth is unnatural. If left unchecked—"
"He won't be." The first figure's tone was absolute. "The next test is already in motion."
A flicker of energy rippled through the room. A projection appeared in the center of the table—an image of Jian, walking through the Wilds, blade at his hip, eyes sharp.
The shadows around the table stirred.
The hunt had begun.
---
Jian—The Wilds
The terrain had changed. The deeper Jian moved into the forest, the more unnatural it became. The trees twisted in impossible angles, their bark shifting as if breathing. The ground pulsed beneath his feet, the very air charged with unseen energy.
Something was wrong.
Jian slowed his pace, his instincts on high alert.
Then—
A sound.
A deep, reverberating hum, like the world itself was waking up.
Jian's grip tightened on his sword as he turned—just in time to see the forest itself move.
Branches lashed forward, roots erupted from the ground, the very shadows between the trees shifting unnaturally. It wasn't an enemy.
It was the floor itself turning against him.
Jian reacted instantly. His blade flashed, slicing through the incoming roots, his body moving with precise, efficient speed. He ducked, rolled, and leapt, avoiding the suffocating grasp of the living terrain.
But it wasn't just attacking randomly.
It was guiding him.
Forcing him in one direction.
Jian gritted his teeth. "So that's how it is."
He didn't fight the pull. Instead, he adapted, using the terrain's aggression against itself, weaving through the onslaught with calculated movements. If the floor wanted him somewhere—
Then he'd see what awaited him.
---
The Ruined Spire
The attacks stopped the moment he stepped into the clearing.
Jian came to a halt, his breath steady, his sword still in hand. Before him, rising from the center of the glade, stood a massive, ancient stone spire, half-collapsed, its surface carved with symbols long forgotten.
And he wasn't alone.
At the base of the spire stood three figures.
Each radiating a presence that set his instincts ablaze.
The first was a towering man in obsidian armor, a massive warhammer resting against his shoulder. His stance was relaxed, but his eyes held the weight of countless battles.
The second was a woman clad in flowing silver robes, a staff in her hands, the air around her humming with raw, crackling energy.
The third—
Jian narrowed his eyes.
The third was the assassin from before.
She smirked at him. "Took you long enough."
Jian exhaled sharply. "I assume this isn't a coincidence."
The armored man chuckled, stepping forward. "No, Irregular. This is your next test."
Jian's fingers flexed around his sword.
He didn't know who these people were.
He didn't know what the Silent Hand's true goal was.
But one thing was clear.
The Tower's hidden players had decided it was time for Jian to prove himself.
And he had every intention of showing them exactly why he was feared.
End of Chapter 40.