The miasma in the arena had reached its zenith, a suffocating sea of venom that clawed at the very fabric of reality. The Five Poisons raged like ancient demons unleashed, their combined aura pressing down upon every competitor with the weight of a collapsing mountain.
Cauldrons shattered one after another in violent symphonies of flame and toxin, sending molten shards whistling through the toxic haze like deadly stars. Screams rose and died in the thickening fog, each one a testament to the cruel truth of this trial: survival was the only merit that mattered.
Wu Ming sat at the edge of the chaos, his black smoke veil still perfect, still deliberate. To the eyes of the crowd, he was one heartbeat from annihilation. To the heavens themselves, he was the eye of the storm.
Then, the grand hourglass let out its final, resonant chime.
Phase 2 - Extraction of the Five Poisons - had ended.
The spiritual pressure in the arena snapped like a taut bowstring. The lingering miasma recoiled as if struck by an invisible hand, retreating into the jade boxes that Elder Chun now sealed with a single flick of his sleeve. The sudden clarity of the air felt almost fragile, like the calm after a cataclysm.
Elder Chun's voice rang out, ancient and emotionless, carrying across the stone arena with the weight of judgment itself.
"Phase 2 concludes. Present your pills."
The surviving competitors staggered forward, their faces pale, robes drenched in sweat and blood. Many clutched cauldrons that had cracked or warped beyond recognition. Only a handful remained truly intact.
Zhang Yun limped to the front, his once-aggressive Qi now ragged. The pill in his palm was crude, its surface marred by black veins of residual poison. He forced a mocking grin, but his eyes betrayed exhaustion.
Yin Tian moved like a shadow, silent and unyielding. His pill was dark, almost sinister, yet stable a reflection of the ruthless path he walked. He offered no words, only the faintest tilt of his head toward the dais.
Higher on the platform, Han Xiaofeng stepped forward with measured grace. His azure flame had finally dimmed, but the pill he presented glowed with a pure, harmonious light. Even in his fatigue, his posture remained proud, though a shadow of doubt still lingered in his narrowed eyes.
Xuan Yue and Mei Xue (Xuan Li) stood at the edge of the competitor's ring, their silver robes fluttering faintly. Mei Xue's face was still pale from the memory of that void gaze, but she forced her chin high, clinging to her earlier conviction.
Then, all eyes turned to the unremarkable youth in the corner.
Wu Ming rose slowly. His cauldron, which had billowed black smoke like a dying volcano throughout the phase, now stood eerily still. He placed a hand upon its lid. The crowd held its breath.
With a soft click, he lifted the lid.
A brilliant light erupted not the crude glow of low-grade pills, nor even the steady radiance of Earth-grade. This was something purer. Deeper. A soft, primordial glow that seemed to carry the breath of creation itself. The air around the cauldron shimmered as if the very laws of nature bent in reverence.
Inside lay a single pill.
It was flawless.
Its surface swirled with five distinct colors - the very poisons that had nearly killed the others now perfectly harmonized into a single, living orb. Tiny runes of light danced across it like stars in a newborn galaxy. A faint, sweet fragrance spread through the arena, chasing away the last remnants of toxin and replacing it with pure, revitali-spiritual energy.
The entire arena fell into stunned silence.
Mei Xue's knees nearly buckled. Her earlier mantra He is failing. Ordinary. Mediocre. - shattered completely. Cold sweat broke across her forehead once more. She clutched Xuan Yue's sleeve, voice barely a whisper.
"Impossible... that was the same cauldron... the one that was smoking like it was about to explode..."
Xuan Yue said nothing, but her sharp eyes widened fractionally. The memory of that void gaze from Phase 1 resurfaced, deeper now, heavier. A single bead of sweat traced down her temple.
Han Xiaofeng's breath hitched. His own pill suddenly felt... ordinary in comparison. The suspicion that had coiled in his chest since the inn flared brighter. That voice... that calm... it was him. The thought struck like lightning, but he kept his expression composed, though the fracture in his worldview widened another inch.
Even Yin Tian's half-lidded eyes opened a fraction wider. Zhang Yun's mocking grin froze on his face, turning into something closer to disbelief.
Elder Chun's gaze lingered on the pill for a long moment. A faint crease touched his brow - the same subtle recognition from earlier - before smoothing away into professional calm.
"Wu Ming of the Wu Clan," he announced, voice steady yet carrying an undercurrent of surprise, "Grade: Peak Earth-grade... bordering on Heaven-grade. Harmony rating: Perfect."
Gasps rippled through the arena like a wave.
But the true shock had only just begun.
Elder Chun swept his sleeve once more. The remaining hourglass flipped, and a new, heavier spiritual pressure descended - not the corrosive venom of Phase 2, but the pure, crushing weight of true competition.
"Phase 3 - the final round of the Alchemy Trial - begins now," he declared. "In this round, you will not merely refine. You will create. The theme is 'Pill of Ten Thousand Transformations. You must forge a pill that can adapt to any one of the five major elemental imbalances: Fire, Water, Wood, Metal, or Earth. The pill must shift its properties mid-refinement without breaking. Failure means immediate disqualification. Success will determine the true geniuses who advance to the final selection."
The arena erupted into murmurs. This was no longer a test of survival. This was a battlefield of true mastery.
From the VIP platforms, new figures stepped forward - geniuses who had been waiting in the wings, each representing powers from beyond Tianmen Empire's borders. They had come from distant lands, each carrying the weight of their own legacies.
First was Li Qingyun of the Eastern Sea Alchemy Pavilion, a young man with flowing azure robes embroidered with crashing waves. His long hair was bound by a jade hairpin shaped like a leaping dragon. His aura carried the boundless depth of the ocean itself. "Eastern Sea Region," he introduced himself calmly, cupping his hands toward the crowd. "I have refined three thousand pills under the guidance of Grandmaster Tidal Heart. Let us see whose Dao is deeper."
Beside him stood Feng Xiaoyao of the Northern Frost Empire, a cold beauty in white and silver, her eyes like frozen stars. Frost Qi faintly glimmered around her fingers. "Northern Frost Empire," she stated, voice crisp as winter wind. "My family's lineage has produced Heaven Alchemists for eight generations. Today, I will prove that ice can temper even the hottest flame."
Then came Huo Yan of the Southern Flame Dynasty, a fiery youth with blazing red hair and golden robes that seemed to flicker like living flames. His presence alone raised the temperature of the arena. "Southern Flame Dynasty," he laughed, voice bold and unrestrained. "We forge with the heart of volcanoes. Let the weak step aside - this round belongs to true fire!"
One more figure stepped into the light - Mu Lingxuan of the Central Divine Mountain Sect, a serene young woman in simple gray robes, yet her eyes held the quiet profundity of ancient mountains. "Central Divine Mountain Sect," she said softly, bowing slightly. "We seek balance in all things. May the best Dao prevail."
The crowd erupted. These were not ordinary competitors. These were the hidden aces of distant powers, each one a rising star in their own right. The spiritual pressure in the arena thickened further as their auras clashed ocean against frost, flame against mountain.
Wu Ming's lips curved into the faintest, almost imperceptible smile.
Good, his consciousness murmured, vast and regal as the primordial dark between stars. Let the true game begin. They come seeking glory. I simply watch the wheel turn.
He placed his hands upon a fresh cauldron. The World of Will hummed faintly at the edge of his perception, ready to dilate time the moment true refinement demanded it. The incomplete Return to Origin pulsed once, a distant promise.
Elder Chun raised his hand.
"Begin!"
The arena exploded into motion. Cauldrons ignited. Flames of every color roared to life. The geniuses from distant lands moved with practiced grace, their techniques flowing like living poetry Li Qingyun's waves of azure Qi, Feng Xiaoyao's crystalline frost seals, Huo Yan's volcanic inferno, Mu Lingxuan's steady mountain-anchoring arrays.
Yet in the corner, the unremarkable youth from the declining Wu Clan remained the calmest of all.
His flame was neither showy nor weak. It was simply... perfect.
And somewhere in the stands, Mei Xue's heart hammered against her ribs as the veil that had hidden the Rising Star finally, irrevocably, began to tear apart.
The true competition had only just begun.
The arena had become a canvas of elemental fury.
To the untrained eye, the four foreign geniuses were the unquestioned masters of the domain. Li Qingyun's cauldron was engulfed in a roaring maelstrom of azure water Qi, the heavy scent of the ocean pressing down on the lesser competitors, snuffing out their weak flames.
Opposite him, Huo Yan laughed manically, his golden robes dancing as he fed pure, volcanic essence into his furnace, the heat warping the very air into shimmering mirages.
Feng Xiaoyao's corner was a zone of absolute zero, her frost seals condensing the ambient moisture into falling snow that hissed violently against the heat of the arena. And anchoring it all was Mu Lingxuan, whose calm, mountain-like Qi forced the chaotic energies around her to flow around her cauldron like a river parting for a boulder.
They were a spectacle of the highest order. The crowd roared with every shift in their flames, entirely captivated by the display of peak-level talent.
Yet, among the true veterans, a different realization was dawning.
High in the VIP pavilion, Master Alchemist Huangfu Yan leaned forward, his teacup forgotten in his hand. His ancient eyes, which had witnessed centuries of rise and fall, bypassed the dazzling displays of the four geniuses.
Instead, his gaze was locked entirely on the unremarkable corner of the arena.
"Master?" his attendant whispered, noticing the elder's intense focus. "Is it the boy from the Southern Flame Dynasty?"
"Quiet," Huangfu Yan commanded, his voice trembling slightly. He wasn't looking at the fire. He was looking at the spaces between the fire.
Down in the arena, Han Xiaofeng gritted his teeth, his handsome face slick with sweat. He pushed his azure flame to its absolute limit, trying to match the sheer output of Li Qingyun and Huo Yan. He was a genius of the Tianmen Empire; he refused to be overshadowed. But every time he tried to shift his pill's elemental affinity from Wood to Fire—the core requirement of the 'Pill of Ten Thousand Transformations'—a microscopic fracture appeared in the pill's structure.
He was using force to bend the elements. It was exhausting.
A few paces away, Yin Tian operated in a completely different reality. He did not look at the newcomers. He did not look at the crowd.
His half-lidded eyes remained devoid of any emotion, his pale hands moving in a blur of shadowy afterimages.
He wasn't harmonizing with the elements; he was subjugating them. When his pill threatened to destabilize, a pulse of dark, ruthless Qi forced it back into shape.
It was a cruel, efficient path of alchemy, completely indifferent to the "beauty" of the craft.
But Wu Ming... Wu Ming was not forcing anything.
Dilate, his consciousness commanded.
In an instant, the roaring crowd, the blazing furnaces, the falling snow—everything ground to a near halt. Wu Ming's mind sank into the World of Will.
Real-time lost its meaning. Here, within the infinite expanse of his mental realm, he had all the time in the universe to study the microscopic composition of the medicinal herbs.
Wood gives birth to Fire. Fire refines Earth. Earth bears Metal. Metal gathers Water. Water nourishes Wood.
It was the most basic cycle of the elements, taught to every mortal child. The other geniuses were trying to force their pills to hold all five elements simultaneously, relying on their overwhelming Qi to keep the conflicting energies from exploding.
To a reincarnated Supreme Deity, this method was as crude as smashing rocks together to make music.
True transformation is not containment, Wu Ming mused within the void. It is surrender.
In the physical world, a fraction of a second passed. Wu Ming's eyes, deep and untroubled, reflected the modest, steady flame beneath his cauldron. He didn't use a flashy hand seal. He didn't release a burst of intimidating Qi. He simply extended a single finger and tapped the side of his cauldron.
Ping.
The sound was impossibly soft, yet it cut through the roaring infernos of the arena like a blade through silk.
Suddenly, the ambient spiritual energy in a ten-meter radius around Wu Ming simply... vanished.
Huo Yan's golden flames violently flickered, nearly dying out. Li Qingyun's water vortex collapsed by a full foot.
Both geniuses snapped their heads toward the declining Wu Clan's corner, their expressions twisting from arrogance to profound shock.
They hadn't been attacked. Their energy hadn't been stolen.
It had been summoned.
Wu Ming's cauldron was no longer just burning; it was breathing. It inhaled the ambient heat of Huo Yan's fire to temper the pill's Earth phase. It exhaled, drawing upon the residual moisture from Feng Xiaoyao's frost to nourish the Wood phase. He was using the spectacular, overwhelming auras of the "true geniuses" as free fuel to refine his own creation.
He was treating their pride as mere firewood.
At the edge of the competitor's ring, Mei Xue staggered backward, her back hitting the cold stone wall. Her breath came in ragged gasps. The aura radiating from that ordinary cauldron wasn't flashy. It was terrifyingly ancient. It was the feeling of standing before a grand, indifferent mountain that had existed before the concept of time.
"He... he isn't competing with them," Mei Xue whispered, her voice cracking, her eyes wide with a terror she couldn't fully comprehend.
Xuan Yue stood beside her, frozen, her silver robes perfectly still. Her sharp eyes were fixed on the youth's relaxed posture, the memory of that void-like gaze now fully realized before her.
"No," Xuan Yue replied, her voice dropping to a hollow murmur. "He is teaching them."
"Teaching them?" Mei Xue's voice was barely a thread of sound, lost in the roaring ambient noise of the arena. Her eyes darted from the foreign geniuses back to Wu Ming.
"How can a nobody from a declining clan teach the heirs of Empires?"
Xuan Yue did not answer. Her silver robes clung to her skin, suddenly damp with cold sweat. She realized now that the air around them wasn't just heavy with spiritual pressure; it was being organized. The chaotic storms of elemental Qi whipped up by the four geniuses were being silently, invisibly tethered and pulled toward that single, unassuming cauldron in the corner.
On the platform, Huo Yan of the Southern Flame Dynasty was the first to realize the true extent of the anomaly.
"What trickery is this?!" he roared, his booming voice cutting through the crackle of his own volcanic flames.
He glared at Wu Ming, his red hair whipping around his face like a halo of wrath. The fiery Qi he was bleeding into the atmosphere to intimidate the others was not dissipating—it was being siphoned.
Huo Yan gritted his teeth, his pride stinging. "You dare steal my Flame Qi? Let's see if your mortal furnace can handle the wrath of the Southern Volcanoes!"
With a vicious hand seal, Huo Yan forcefully redirected a concentrated stream of his golden, magma-like Qi directly at Wu Ming's cauldron. It wasn't an attack meant to kill that would violate the rules but it was an overwhelming surge of pure elemental fire designed to overheat Wu Ming's furnace and shatter his pill.
"Fool," Li Qingyun of the Eastern Sea muttered, his eyes narrowing as he maintained his azure water vortex. "Huo Yan lacks discipline. But... that kid in the corner is strange. I will test him as well."
With a flick of his wrist, Li Qingyun sent a localized wave of freezing, heavy oceanic Qi crashing toward Wu Ming from the opposite direction.
Fire and Water. Two opposing, pinnacle-level elemental forces converged on the unremarkable youth from two different angles. The crowd gasped. Even Elder Chun's eyes narrowed, his hand twitching beneath his sleeve, ready to intervene if the clash turned lethal.
Yet, Huangfu Yan, sitting in the highest seat, raised a single, wrinkled finger.
Wait.
Down below, Wu Ming did not even blink.
He remained seated in a meditative lotus position, his eyes still fixed on the dancing, ordinary flame beneath his cauldron.
In the World of Will, time stretched into a vast, silent ocean.
They offer fire to a star, and water to the abyss, Wu Ming thought, a ghost of amusement echoing in the void. Very well. The Pill of Ten Thousand Transformations requires external catalysts to temper its internal world. I shall accept your gifts.
Real-time resumed.
The golden fire and the heavy azure water struck the airspace around Wu Ming's cauldron simultaneously. But there was no explosion.
There was no hiss of steam or violent shockwave.
Instead, the two supreme energies simply... vanished into the modest flame beneath Wu Ming's furnace.
The ordinary fire flared for a fraction of a second, turning a brilliant, impossible shade of violet, before settling back down into a calm, orange glow. The cauldron let out a deep, resonant hum that vibrated through the stone floor of the arena, traveling up the legs of every competitor.
Huo Yan stumbled forward, his eyes bulging.
"Impossible! Where did my Qi go?"
Li Qingyun's calm facade shattered, his hands trembling as he stared at his own palms. "He didn't deflect it... he devoured it. Without even changing his hand seal?"
Silence began to spread from Wu Ming's corner outward, infecting the roaring arena like a plague of awe.
Only one other competitor seemed to truly understand the horror of what had just occurred. A few yards away, Yin Tian paused his own ruthless refinement. The dark, sinister Qi swirling around his hands halted.
For the first time since the trials began, Yin Tian turned his head completely, his half-lidded eyes locking onto Wu Ming.
There was no animosity in Yin Tian's gaze. There was no arrogance. There was only the cold, sharp recognition of a predator acknowledging a leviathan in the same waters.
Wu Ming felt the gaze. He did not turn, but he slightly tilted his head in Yin Tian's direction. A microscopic nod.
Yin Tian's eyes narrowed slightly. He returned to his cauldron, his movements faster now, sharper, entirely stripped of any remaining restraint. He knew now that first place was an illusion.
There was only survival in the shadow of this monster.
"Phase three reaches its midpoint," Elder Chun's voice echoed, breaking the heavy silence, though even his ancient tone carried a slight tremor. "The transformation must begin. Metal to Water. Water to Wood. Show the heavens your Dao!"
The four foreign geniuses, now sweating profusely and thoroughly shaken, forced their attention back to their own cauldrons. They had to transition the core element of their pills.
Feng Xiaoyao of the Northern Frost bit her lip, blood drawing as she forced her crystalline ice Qi to soften, attempting to mimic the nurturing aspect of Water to feed the Wood phase. The air around her shrieked as the elements fought her control.
Mu Lingxuan of the Central Divine Mountain chanted sutras, using her heavy Earth Qi to forcibly compress the shifting energies, her face pale as parchment.
Han Xiaofeng, the local genius, was faring the worst. His azure flame was flickering violently. He was trying to shift from Wood to Fire, but the residual poison from Phase 2, which he hadn't perfectly purged, was acting as a barrier.
A tiny, web-like crack appeared on his cauldron. Panic finally pierced his arrogant eyes.
Meanwhile, inside Wu Ming's furnace, a universe was being born.
He did not force the elements to change. He simply altered the environment, and the pill adapted naturally.
Earth to Metal, Wu Ming commanded in the silence of his mind.
He tapped the cauldron again. The violet hue returned to the flame, instantly crystallizing the medicinal liquid inside.
Metal to Water.
He withdrew his Qi entirely for a single heartbeat. The sudden vacuum caused the crystallized pill to melt, liquefying into a drop of pure, heavy dew that carried the resonance of a midnight ocean.
Water to Wood.
He fed the captured energy of Huo Yan and Li Qingyun directly into the dewdrop. A microscopic sprout of green light bloomed within the pill, pulsing with the heartbeat of ancient forests.
The transformations were seamless. Flawless. They occurred in the span of breaths, while the other geniuses struggled for agonizing minutes just to manage a single shift.
Up in the VIP pavilion, Master Alchemist Huangfu Yan stood up. He didn't realize he had done it. His attendant gasped, falling to his knees in panic, but the old man ignored him. He walked to the edge of the balcony, his knuckles white as he gripped the jade railing.
"Master?" the attendant whimpered. "What is happening? The clouds... look at the sky!"
Above the open-air arena of Beichen City, the midday sun was disappearing.
It wasn't a storm cloud. It was a gathering of pure, dense spiritual Qi, swirling in a massive vortex directly above the arena. The vortex shimmered with five distinct colors—Gold, Green, Blue, Red, and Brown.
The Five Elements.
"A Pill Tribulation?" an elder from a rival sect yelled, standing up in shock. "Impossible! Only Heaven-grade pills summon the judgment of the skies! Are these children refining Heaven-grade pills?!"
"No," Huangfu Yan whispered, his voice hoarse. Tears, actual tears of profound reverence, pricked the corners of his ancient eyes. "It is not a tribulation. The heavens are not coming to destroy the pill. They are coming to witness it."
Down in the arena, the final grain of sand fell through the hourglass.
"Time is up!" Elder Chun roared, his voice amplified by Qi to cut through the mounting atmospheric pressure. "Seal your cauldrons!"
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Lids slammed down. Han Xiaofeng collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his robes soaked in sweat. His cauldron was spider-webbed with cracks, but it held. The four foreign geniuses staggered, their faces pale, their immense Qi reserves completely drained.
Even Yin Tian took a slow, deep breath, his hands trembling imperceptibly as he rested them on his dark furnace.
Only Wu Ming sat perfectly still. He did not slam his lid. He simply let the flame die out naturally, the last ember fading into ash.
The massive vortex in the sky slowly stopped spinning, its five colors forming a radiant halo directly above the Wu Clan's corner.
"Present your creations," Elder Chun commanded, stepping down from the high platform and walking directly onto the arena floor. He didn't go to Han Xiaofeng. He didn't go to the heirs of Empires.
He walked straight toward Wu Ming.
The entire arena held its breath. The silence was absolute, deafening. Millions of eyes, from the lowest commoner in the stands to the hidden masters in the shadows, were fixed on the unremarkable youth in the black smoke veil.
Wu Ming looked up at Elder Chun. His eyes were calm pools of obsidian, reflecting the five-colored halo in the sky.
Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and lifted the lid of his cauldron.
As the lid of Wu Ming's cauldron was slowly lifted, a faint click echoed throughout the silent alchemy arena—resonating like the turning of fate itself.
In that instant, a five-colored radiance coalesced into a ring high in the heavens before plunging downward like a soundless bolt of lightning. It did not destroy—rather, it sank into the seemingly ordinary furnace. The rich fragrance that had filled the air vanished in the blink of an eye, replaced instead by an overwhelming void… a void so profound that even the surrounding competitors found their breathing faltering.
Five-Element Cycle Sovereign Pill… Wu Ming murmured inwardly.
In his palm, a single pill rose and hovered. It emitted no dazzling brilliance like the others—yet it possessed a pulse. Its surface trembled rhythmically, beating in harmony with the very heartbeat of nature itself. With every pulse, the surrounding elements seemed to respond in silent resonance.
"This…!" Elder Chun's knees buckled as his outstretched hand trembled violently. "This is no mere Peak Earth-grade… It has already brushed against the realm of Heaven's Will! This pill… it lives!"
An uproar erupted like a collapsing dam. The prodigies from the four distant lands turned pale. Huo Yan, once arrogant and domineering, staggered back three steps—his blazing eyes dimming upon witnessing a perfection far beyond his volcanic path.
Even Yin Tian, who had remained cold and composed throughout, clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his flesh. The gaze he cast upon Wu Ming shifted—from doubt… to a reverence that pierced deep into his very soul.
Yet before any verdict could be announced, an even greater pressure descended upon the entire hall.
Upon the VIP stands, the figure of an unassuming old man who had been seated behind Han Xiaofeng began to blur. A faint golden light radiated from his body, transforming into a translucent yet sacred projection—more imposing than any mountain beneath the heavens.
"That's… a fragment of a soul!" someone cried out in shock.
The elders of every sect immediately rose to their feet and bowed, for this was none other than Huangfu Yan—the true Grandmaster Alchemist. He had not come in person, but had sent forth a fragment of his will concealed within a follower's body to observe his disciple… yet now, his focus had changed.
The projection of Huangfu Yan descended from the stands. His steps were soundless, yet they carried a stillness that suppressed all chaos. He walked straight toward Wu Ming, passing over his beloved disciple Han Xiaofeng as though he were nothing but air.
Han Xiaofeng's face turned deathly pale. The pride he held in his own Earth-grade pill shattered in an instant as he watched his master fixate upon the so-called "trash" of the Wu Clan.
"So, you are Wu Ming…" Huangfu Yan's voice resounded directly within the souls of all present. "I have observed you since the first round. You concealed a blade within a worn sheath, yet in this third round, you have unveiled a secret of the Dao that even I must ponder."
For the first time, the exalted old man revealed a smile.
"Your talent is such that even the heavens would envy it. I, Huangfu Yan, in the name of the Grandmaster of the Tianmen Realm, hereby declare that I wish to accept you as my final direct disciple. All my resources, my secret manuals, and a status above countless beings—I shall grant them all to you."
The entire arena seemed to stop breathing. Even emperors would bow for such an opportunity. To become Huangfu Yan's disciple was to ascend instantly to the pinnacle of the alchemical world.
Han Xiaofeng's heart shattered, his gaze toward Wu Ming filled with a jealousy that threatened to burn everything to ash.
And yet… Wu Ming stood unmoved. Amidst the overwhelming pressure and glory crashing upon him, he remained as calm as one watching ripples upon still water.
He cupped his hands in a respectful salute, his voice steady and resolute.
"I am deeply honored by Grandmaster Huangfu's regard. However, I walk a path of my own—one that must be traversed alone. I fear I cannot accept the position of your disciple… please forgive me."
A suffocating silence fell once more.
He… refused? He refused Huangfu Yan!?
Whispers of disbelief spread like wildfire. To many, Wu Ming had surely lost his mind. Yet Huangfu Yan's smile only widened, even as his soul fragment flickered faintly from the strain of sustaining itself.
"To refuse me for the sake of a Dao beyond my reach… how intriguing!" he chuckled softly, his heart stirring with an excitement he had not felt in centuries.
He stepped closer, leaving behind words that etched themselves into the very fabric of the air:
"Today, you may refuse this fragment of my will—but do not think I shall yield so easily, Wu Ming. In the near future, when my true body arrives… or when fate brings us together once more… I will make you change your mind. No matter how lofty your path may be, I shall forge a throne worthy of it with my own hands!"
With that, Huangfu Yan's faint golden figure dissolved into countless motes of light, soaring back into the heavens—leaving behind only silence and the stunned gazes of tens of thousands.
Wu Ming watched the fading light, the corner of his lips curling into a faint smile unseen by all.
A throne, you say?
He gently caressed the Five-Element Pill in his hand.
You do not know… the throne upon which I once sat… is one that even the gods would not dare to behold.