A blinding rupture of golden light forced the spectators to shield their eyes, severing their connection to the celestial trial.

When the brilliance finally faded, vision returned. They were no longer standing on the ancient staircase but had been deposited back into the reality of the Buried Immortal Mountain Range.

Disoriented, Bai Ling blinked and looked down. A golden storage ring sat heavily in her palm. Beside her, Xiao Zi shook her head, a matching ring clamped firmly between her teeth. These were the rewards for conquering the nine-thousandth step.

Yet, the sky above them remained terrifying. A pitch-black vortex, a hundred meters wide, churned silently overhead, twisting the surrounding space and emitting an aura that made the soul tremble.

“Brother Lie!” Bai Ling froze, her panic mounting as she realized she and the cat were alone. Han Lie was nowhere to be seen.

“Fairy Bai Ling.” A soft voice cut through her fear. Xiao Yuruo approached, accompanied by Elder Huang Hai.

“It’s… it’s you.” Bai Ling’s shoulders sagged slightly at the sight of a friendly face. “Brother Lie… he won’t be in danger, will he?”

Xiao Yuruo smiled gently, shaking her head. “If nothing unexpected happens, he is safe. When he emerges from that secret realm, he will likely walk among us as a Nascent Soul powerhouse.”

Bai Ling and Xiao Zi exchanged looks of utter confusion. They had seen him explode.

Huang Hai stroked his beard, his expression sagely. “No destruction, no construction. It is the necessary path for proving the Dao. Do not assume Young Friend Han has perished simply because he discarded his flesh.”

“Really? That’s wonderful!” Bai Ling beamed, her mood flipping instantly. She didn’t understand the mechanics, but she trusted Xiao Yuruo implicitly.

“Think of the body as a vessel,” Xiao Yuruo explained, her gaze fixed on the swirling vortex. “A tea cup can hold water, but how can it contain a lake, let alone an ocean?”

The original body was too fragile to house the majestic power of the Nascent Soul. To ascend, the vessel had to be shattered and forged anew.

On the other side of the clearing, the mood was far darker.

Zhao Batian stared at the black vortex, his face a mask of gloom so heavy it seemed ready to drip water.

“Holy Son,” Li Qingyu whispered, stepping closer. “It appears we cannot stop him from proving his Dao.”

There was only one option left: summon a Soul Formation grandmaster from the Sun Moon Sect to forcibly shatter the vortex and interrupt the breakthrough. But such a blatant act of war would not go unnoticed. Ye Qingxuan, the terrifying Sect Leader of the Heavenly Void Sect, was likely watching this very mountain range from across the void.

“We retreat,” Zhao Batian finally hissed, the words tasting like ash.

He could not stay. He could not watch Han Lie ascend. To witness his rival succeed where he had not yet even tried would strike a fatal blow to his Dao Heart.

Zhao Batian was a genius, born with a ninth-grade spiritual vein. His life had been a smooth, conquering river—until the Sacred Sun Mountain Range. Until Han Lie.

He had rationalized his previous defeat as carelessness. He still believed they were equals. But if Han Lie stepped out of that vortex as a Nascent Soul cultivator… the gap would be undeniable.

If he stayed, his confidence would crack. He might birth an inner demon, never to rise again.

“We go back to the Sect,” Zhao Batian commanded, turning his back on the vortex. “We will find another method to break through. I will not remain here.”

If I stay, I am just an ant watching a dragon.

It was a humiliation he refused to accept. Gathering the disciples of the Sun Moon Sect, Zhao Batian and Li Qingyu vanished into the treeline, fleeing their own insecurity.

Meanwhile, Xiao Yuruo instructed Huang Hai to escort the Myriad Sword Pavilion disciples home. She, however, would remain. She stood with Bai Ling and Xiao Zi, a silent sentinel waiting for the return of the man who had shaken the heavens.

Inside the ruins, within the void of the trial.

Han Lie was gone, and yet, he was everywhere.

Amidst a sea of golden light, the bloody mist that was once his body began to coalesce. Guided by an unseen will, the fragments gathered, forming a pulsating sphere of crimson liquid.

Gurgle… Gurgle…

Suspended within the heart of the blood sphere was his Golden Core, refracting beams of light through the fluid. Han Lie’s consciousness, however, was untethered.

He drifted in a shapeless, colorless void. There was no up, no down, and no passage of time.

He floated in this primordial chaos for an eternity, or perhaps a second. Then, a vision manifested.

He saw the birth of a universe. He saw space unfurl like a canvas, creating a place for matter to exist. He saw that matter flow, shift, and change.

Han Lie’s disembodied consciousness trembled violently. The fog in his mind burned away in a flash of clarity.

So that is it…

“This is the essence of Space and Time!”

Ecstasy, bordering on madness, flooded his thoughts.

Space is the container for all matter. Time is merely the reference system recording the changes of that matter.

Without Space to hold matter, there can be no change. Without change, there is no Time. They were not separate laws, but one indivisible truth.

Han Lie’s spirit entered a profound state of enlightenment. Fragments of universal laws—shards of Space and Time—dissolved into memories and fused with his soul.

When he finally snapped back to awareness, his consciousness had returned to the ruins.

He hovered above a golden expanse, looking down at the glowing sphere of blood. It was a strange sensation, staring at one’s own gestation.

“After endless eons, someone has finally passed my trial.”

The voice was ancient, carrying the weight of dust and dead stars.

Han Lie’s consciousness focused, projecting his intent upward. A pale, illusory figure materialized from the void, an old man seemingly made of smoke.

“Junior Han Lie pays respects to Senior,” Han Lie projected, forming a mental image of bowing with cupped hands.

“Young friend,” the ghost sighed, his voice echoing. “This humble Daoist has been dead for too long. Only a wisp of residual will remains, so I cannot speak at length.”

The ghost drifted closer, inspecting the blood sphere.

“Since you have conquered the three trials, take my lifetime of insights into the Dao. Everything I learned, I leave to you.”

The figure began to fade, his purpose fulfilled.

“Please, remember only my title.”

The ghost smiled, a fleeting expression of pride.

“Daoist Star-Sucker.”

“I have always believed that the destruction of the flesh is not the end. True death comes only when the last person in the world forgets my name.”

Buzz!

Before Han Lie could respond, the figure shattered into a galaxy of light motes.

The next instant, a tidal wave of information crashed into Han Lie’s mind. It was a lifetime of cultivation, a legacy of power, and the terrifying wisdom of the Daoist Star-Sucker.