The path toward Blackstone Trial Peak was quieter than Fang Lin expected.
After the trial hall collapsed behind them, the Green Bamboo Sect Alliance did not immediately speak. The disciples moved in a tight formation, each person keeping a cautious distance from the black stone walls on both sides.
Every few moments, a faint scraping sound came from somewhere deep within the passage, as if chains were being dragged across stone.
Fang Lin walked near the rear under the name Shen Mo, his expression calm, his aura held at Late Spirit Foundation Realm. He did not walk too quickly, nor did he appear too relaxed. He simply followed with the kind of quiet confidence that belonged to someone who had seen danger before and did not wish to advertise it.
Feng Jiu'er walked at the front.
Her white-red dress moved lightly with each step, its sleeves embroidered with the bamboo-leaf emblem of the Green Bamboo Sect. Her aura was restrained, but there was a sharpness hidden beneath it, like a blade wrapped in silk. Every few breaths, she would glance at the passage ahead, then at the disciples behind her.
Su Wanqing stayed close to her side, her expression gentle but her eyes alert. Murong Yue, on the other hand, kept looking back at Fang Lin as if trying to see through him by sheer persistence.
After the sixth glance, Fang Lin finally turned his head.
"Is there something on my face?"
Murong Yue blinked, then smiled sweetly.
"No. That is exactly why I'm suspicious."
Several disciples nearly lost their serious expressions.
Li Shan coughed once and tried to look dignified. "Junior Sister Murong, this is a dangerous place. Please remain focused."
Murong Yue glanced at him. "Senior Brother Li, your hand has been holding your sword hilt for half an incense stick. If you squeeze any harder, the sword may ask for compensation."
Li Shan's face stiffened.
Bai Qing lowered her head slightly, her lips curving before she quickly hid it.
Fang Lin looked away, but a faint smirk touched the corner of his mouth.
It vanished almost immediately.
He had not expected to feel this strange.
These people were from the Green Bamboo Sect. Some of them had once stood near him, spoken with him, worried about him, and believed him dead or missing. Now he walked beside them under another face, another name, another aura.
Feng Jiu'er suddenly slowed.
Fang Lin's gaze shifted toward her.
She did not turn around fully. She only said, "Fellow Daoist Shen, the path ahead leads to Blackstone Trial Peak. The records we obtained say the pressure there tests both body and foundation. Since you are traveling with us for now, I hope you will not act alone."
Her voice was calm, but there was something beneath it.
A warning.
And perhaps a little concern.
Fang Lin cupped his hands lightly. "I understand."
Feng Jiu'er nodded and continued walking.
Murong Yue came beside Fang Lin and lowered her voice. "Senior Sister Feng rarely speaks that much to outsiders. Either she trusts you, or she thinks you are dangerous."
Fang Lin replied evenly, "Which one do you think it is?"
Murong Yue smiled. "Both."
This time, Fang Lin did not answer.
The passage opened after another hundred steps.
A vast underground space appeared before them.
Blackstone Trial Peak stood in the center like a mountain carved from night. Its surface was not smooth. Countless stone steps had been cut into it, each step dark and heavy, covered in ancient marks that pulsed with faint grey light. Chains as thick as ancient trees wrapped around the mountain, sinking into the ground at different angles.
At the peak, a broken altar floated half a foot above the stone.
Around the altar circled three black lamps, their flames burning without heat.
The moment the Green Bamboo disciples entered the cavern, a wave of pressure descended.
Several Early Spirit Foundation disciples groaned.
Zhao Feng's knees bent slightly before he forced himself upright, his face turning red from embarrassment. Han Zhi's shoulders trembled, but his eyes remained steady. Bai Qing's pale-blue dress fluttered as she released a soft breath and steadied her aura.
Li Shan gritted his teeth. "This pressure is stronger than the records said."
Fang Lin felt the weight fall on him as well.
It was not weak.
For ordinary Spirit Foundation cultivators, every step here would compress their Qi, flesh, bones, and spiritual foundation at the same time. If they forced themselves forward recklessly, their meridians might crack.
For Fang Lin, however, it only made the Nine Nether Phantom Body stir slightly, as if it had found a grinding stone.
His eyes narrowed faintly.
Good place.
But his expression did not change much. He let his shoulders sink by a small degree, making himself appear affected.
Feng Jiu'er raised her hand. "Formation."
The Green Bamboo disciples moved quickly.
A pale-green glow spread between them, linking their breaths together. This was not the Guard Dragon Breath Fang Lin had just obtained, but a simpler sect formation meant to share pressure.
Even so, it was enough to stabilize the weaker disciples.
Fang Lin stood at the edge of the formation. He could enter it, but doing so too naturally would expose his understanding. He paused for half a breath before stepping in.
Feng Jiu'er noticed the pause.
Her eyes flickered.
Fang Lin pretended not to see it.
The group began climbing.
The first thirty steps were bearable.
By the fiftieth step, the pressure doubled.
By the eightieth step, black mist began leaking out from the cracks in the mountain. The mist gathered into vague human shapes with hollow eyes and broken weapons. They did not have true bodies, but each one carried a lingering battle intent.
"Trial spirits," Su Wanqing said softly. "Do not let them touch your spiritual foundation."
The first shadow lunged.
Li Shan drew his sword.
"Green Bamboo Splitting Wind!"
His sword swept out with green light, cutting the shadow apart. Before he could relax, the shattered mist reformed behind him and struck toward his back.
Fang Lin's fingers moved.
"Black Mountain Lock."
An invisible weight descended.
The shadow froze for a breath.
Li Shan reacted instantly and cut it apart again, this time sending Qi into the fragments until they dispersed completely.
He turned his head, surprise flashing across his face.
Fang Lin only said, "Do not cut them once. Crush the intent inside."
Li Shan's pride wanted to respond.
His reason stopped him.
He nodded. "Many thanks."
More trial spirits appeared.
The mountain became chaotic in an instant.
Feng Jiu'er's aura bloomed. Pale-green light wrapped around her palm, gentle at first, then sharp as spring bamboo breaking through stone.
"Bamboo Heart Severing Palm."
She struck forward, and three trial spirits collapsed at once.
Her expression remained composed, but her eyes were cold. This was not the warmth she showed her own people. Toward enemies, Feng Jiu'er was clean and decisive.
Su Wanqing used a long ribbon-like spiritual weapon. It moved around her like flowing water, soft yet difficult to approach. Whenever a disciple nearly lost balance, her ribbon would pull them back.
Murong Yue's weapon was a short blade hidden inside her sleeve. She smiled when she fought, but the smile was not lighthearted. It was sharp, almost mischievous, as if she enjoyed punishing anything that underestimated her.
A trial spirit appeared behind Bai Qing.
Its broken spear stabbed toward the back of her head.
Bai Qing sensed it, but the pressure beneath her feet delayed her movement by half a breath.
That half breath was enough to kill.
Fang Lin's eyes turned cold.
"Black Mountain Breaking Palm."
He stepped forward and struck out with one palm.
The air between them sank.
The trial spirit shattered before its spear could land.
Bai Qing turned, startled. Her face was slightly pale, and for a moment she forgot the pressure bearing down on her.
"Thank you, Fellow Daoist Shen."
Fang Lin withdrew his hand. "Focus on your footing."
Bai Qing nodded quickly.
Murong Yue glanced over and said, "He even saves people with a cold face. Senior Sister Bai, do not misunderstand. Some men are born looking like they are collecting debts."
Bai Qing's pale face instantly flushed.
Fang Lin's eyelid twitched once.
Even Feng Jiu'er's lips seemed to move faintly, but the expression disappeared too quickly to catch.
The climb continued.
At the hundredth step, the pressure changed.
It no longer pressed only on the body.
It began pressing on the heart.
Voices rose within the mountain.
Some disciples heard mockery. Some heard fear. Some heard the voices of enemies they had defeated or friends they had lost.
Fang Lin heard nothing at first.
Then, very faintly, he heard Uncle Wei's voice.
"Little Lin, do not trust what shines too brightly."
His steps paused.
The voice vanished.
Fang Lin lowered his gaze. His fingers curled once, then relaxed.
It was not Uncle Wei.
Only an echo trying to dig into his memories.
A coldness spread through his chest.
He had tolerated the pressure. He had tolerated the trial spirits. But using Uncle Wei's voice to disturb him made something in Fang Lin's eyes turn dark.
He raised his hand slightly.
Darkness gathered at his fingertips, but he held it back before it could become visible.
Not here.
Not yet.
Instead, he changed the flow of his Qi and used only the heaviness of the Black Mountain Suppression Art.
"Black Mountain Descent."
The space around him sank.
The nearby trial spirits froze as if a mountain had fallen onto their backs. Cracks spread through their misty bodies before they collapsed into black smoke.
Feng Jiu'er turned her head.
For a moment, she looked directly at Fang Lin.
"That technique does not belong to a rogue cultivator."
The words were soft.
Only Fang Lin heard them.
He met her gaze calmly. "Many things in the world do not belong to those who use them."
Feng Jiu'er stared at him for a breath longer.
Then she looked away.
She did not ask.
That was her intelligence.
And perhaps her mercy.
At the one hundred and twentieth step, a stone tablet rose from the mountain.
Ancient characters burned across its surface.
Those who withstand the mountain may choose one mark.
Those who protect others may choose two.
Those who had strength shall be judged by the mountain itself.
The last sentence made Fang Lin's eyes narrow.
The mountain knew.
Or at least, the trial formation sensed more than ordinary cultivators could.
A low rumble spread through Blackstone Trial Peak.
The pressure on Fang Lin suddenly increased.
Not by one fold.
By five.
His robes pressed tightly against his body. His bones gave a faint sound, and the Spirit Foundation within his dantian trembled once.
Fang Lin lowered his head slightly.
Then he smiled.
It was faint.
Cold.
Almost amused.
So the trial wanted to force him to reveal himself.
Unfortunately, it had chosen the wrong person.
Inside his body, the Nine Nether Phantom Body circulated silently. Life force spread through his flesh and bones, repairing tiny strains the moment they appeared. His death-dark spiritual Qi sank deep into his meridians, heavy and quiet. His soul remained still, like a black mirror beneath a moonless sky.
Outwardly, he only seemed to be enduring with difficulty.
His breathing became heavier.
His forehead showed a little sweat.
His steps slowed.
Perfectly reasonable.
Perfectly false.
Murong Yue noticed and frowned slightly. "Fellow Daoist Shen, are you all right?"
Fang Lin exhaled. "The mountain dislikes me."
Li Shan, struggling nearby, forced out a laugh. "Then it has good taste. It dislikes me too."
This time, even Zhao Feng laughed once before the pressure nearly made him bite his tongue.
The tension eased by a thread.
Fang Lin glanced at Li Shan.
This fellow had grown.
Not much, but enough to be less annoying than before.
The group reached the stone tablet together.
One by one, marks appeared on the tablet.
Some were defensive skills.
Some were body-tempering fragments.
Some were incomplete movement arts.
Fang Lin did not rush. He studied the marks carefully, pretending to hesitate while his soul quietly examined their structure.
Most were ordinary.
Useful to normal disciples, but not worth exposing himself for.
Then his gaze stopped on a small black-grey mark near the bottom of the tablet.
It did not shine brightly.
It almost seemed buried.
Stone Vein Crushing Step.
A footwork attack.
Not movement for speed, but a short-range battle step that used body force and earth pressure to crush an opponent's balance, disrupt their Qi flow, and create an opening. It suited body cultivators and suppression techniques. More importantly, it could blend with Black Mountain Suppression Art without revealing frost, life, or death.
Fang Lin's eyes softened with satisfaction.
This was exactly the kind of skill he needed while wearing Shen Mo's face.
He placed his palm on the mark.
The tablet trembled.
A stream of information entered his mind.
At the same time, the mountain pressure around him lightened.
Fang Lin withdrew his hand and let out a slow breath, as if relieved.
Feng Jiu'er chose a defensive art.
Su Wanqing chose a healing support technique.
Murong Yue chose a hidden blade movement skill and looked extremely pleased with herself.
Li Shan chose a sword-pressure fragment, then immediately tried to look as if he had understood it completely.
Murong Yue leaned over. "Senior Brother Li, do you understand it?"
Li Shan answered firmly, "Mostly."
"How much is mostly?"
"Enough."
"So not much."
Li Shan closed his eyes and pretended the mountain pressure had made him deaf.
Fang Lin almost smiled again.
But before anyone could relax, a cold voice came from below.
"Well, well. The Green Bamboo Sect Alliance is quite lively."
Everyone turned.
At the lower steps of Blackstone Trial Peak, another group had appeared.
Their robes carried the emblem of the Green Bamboo Sect, but their aura was not friendly.
At the front stood Chen Mingyuan, the Chen clan's Peak Spirit Foundation leader from the Faction side. His robe was deep green edged with black thread, and a narrow sword hung at his waist. His face was handsome in a cold, arrogant way, but his eyes carried the impatience of someone used to being obeyed.
Behind him stood Chen Hao.
The moment Chen Hao saw Feng Jiu'er, his expression tightened.
Then his gaze moved across the Alliance disciples and landed briefly on Fang Lin's disguised face.
He did not recognize him.
Fang Lin's eyes remained calm.
But deep inside, something old and cold stirred.
Chen Mingyuan smiled faintly. "Junior Sister Feng, it seems your Alliance gained a helper."
Feng Jiu'er's expression did not change. "And it seems your Faction learned to follow others."
The disciples behind her straightened.
Chen Mingyuan's smile thinned.
For a moment, the pressure of Blackstone Trial Peak seemed to grow heavier.
Two groups from the same sect stood on the same mountain, but there was no warmth between them.
Only old grudges.
Hidden blades.
And a ruin that rewarded those who survived.
Fang Lin lowered his gaze and quietly adjusted the flow of his aura.
Forty percent.
No more.
Not yet.
But if Chen Hao truly stepped too close, Fang Lin was not sure his restraint would remain as polite as his face.
-