Chapter 30: Initial Trial (2)

The trial was a mirror, but not the kind that reflected truth. It was a distorted glass, showing Xu Mo a version of himself that could have been—a version that made his soul tremble. He watched, detached, as the Xu Mo within the trial accepted the title of True Successor with a smirk, his eyes gleaming with greed and arrogance. The real Xu Mo, felt a cold knot tighten in his chest. This isn’t me, he thought. But the question lingered, haunting him: Is this what I could have become?

The Sect Master and Elder Long stood before the trial’s Xu Mo, their expressions unreadable. In reality, Xu Mo had always treated them with respect, even reverence. There was an unspoken bond between them, forged through shared trials and quiet understanding. But here, in this false reality, the trial’s Xu Mo looked down on them, his demeanor dripping with disdain. He saw them not as mentors but as stepping stones, tools to elevate his own status.

The real Xu Mo clenched his fists, his soul aching. This isn’t who I am. This can’t be who I am.

But the trial continued, relentless.

The announcement of Xu Mo’s ascension to True Successor sent ripples through the Hidden Dragon Sect. Disciples whispered in awe, their eyes filled with envy or admiration. But there were others—those who had known him before—who looked at him with a quiet sadness. The Xu Mo they remembered had been an underdog, a young man who endured injustice after injustice with quiet resilience. But this Xu Mo? He was a storm, reckless and unyielding, intoxicated by the power he now wielded.

At first, it was small things. A sneer here, a dismissive wave there. He began to exert his authority over minor matters, relishing the way others scrambled to obey. But power, as it often does, began to corrupt. The more he indulged, the more he craved. And then came the Grand Dao Blessing.

It was supposed to be a moment of triumph, a divine acknowledgment of his potential. But instead of feeling the warmth of the Dao’s embrace, Xu Mo felt a cold emptiness seep into his soul. It was as if something vital had been stripped away, leaving him hollow. Yet, in his arrogance, he barely noticed. He was too consumed by his newfound status, too blinded by his own reflection in the eyes of others.

And then there was Jin Meiyu.

She was a vision, her beauty ethereal, her presence commanding. But it wasn’t just her looks that drew Xu Mo’s attention. It was her talent, her grace, the way she carried herself with an air of unattainability. She was the Saintess of the Hidden Dragon Sect, a title bestowed upon her when her grandfather, Jin Wuyuan, brought her to the sect. Jin Wuyuan was an old friend of the sect’s Ancestor, and his influence had elevated Jin Meiyu to a position of reverence. Her talent was second only to Long Chen’s, and that made her all the more desirable in Xu Mo’s eyes.

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But Jin Meiyu was not a prize to be won. She was a force of nature, her focus unwavering, her heart untouchable. Xu Mo, however, saw her as the ultimate symbol of his supremacy. If he could claim her, he thought, it would be the final proof of his dominance over Long Chen.

He showered her with gifts, each more extravagant than the last. He flaunted his authority, challenging anyone who dared to speak to her. He believed that his status alone would be enough to win her heart. But Jin Meiyu remained indifferent, her gaze cold and distant. She saw through his arrogance, through the facade of power he had built around himself. And she wanted no part of it.

Then came Long Chen.

The Son of Destiny. The one favored by the heavens. Long Chen’s presence was like a blade, cutting through the arrogance that surrounded Xu Mo. He was no longer the struggling disciple Xu Mo had once dismissed. He was a force to be reckoned with, his every step resonating with the weight of destiny.

The confrontation was inevitable.

Blinded by jealousy and rage, Xu Mo challenged Long Chen in front of the entire sect. He demanded a duel, convinced that he could defeat him and claim everything—power, recognition, Jin Meiyu. But the battle was swift and brutal. Long Chen didn’t merely defeat him; he crushed him. Every strike of his sword shattered Xu Mo’s illusions of grandeur. Every blow stripped away the arrogance that had clouded his heart. In the end, Xu Mo lay on the ground, his body battered, his pride in tatters.

Jin Meiyu never spared him a glance.

As Xu Mo coughed up blood, his vision blurring, he looked up at Long Chen’s towering figure and understood. He had become the stepping stone in another’s path to greatness. The fate he had once dismissed as the weakness of the defeated had now become his own.

The world around him cracked, the illusions shattering like glass. Xu Mo’s consciousness was pulled from the false reality, and he found himself standing in the silent void once more. Before him stood an ethereal figure, its form swirling with mist, its voice a whisper of the Grand Dao.

“Do you understand now?” the Dao asked.

Xu Mo clenched his fists, his mind reeling. The trial had never been about power. It had never been about his potential. It was a warning—a glimpse of what he could become if he let himself be consumed by arrogance, greed, and obsession.

“Will you still seek power?” the Dao whispered.

Xu Mo closed his eyes, the weight of the trial pressing down on him. He had received his answer. He would remain silent. But this time, not out of weakness. Not out of fear. But because he understood the weight of his silence.

"Yes." There was a confident smile on his.

"..." The Grand Dao turned silent at the unexpected response received from Xu Mo. Any logical person in this situation would have said 'No'.

"Watch me. I would not change."

"And If you do change, then what?"

"Do whatever you think is right with me."

[Trial has ended!!]

'I doubt you are the Grand Dao. Lets meet when I am strong enough.' Xu Mo thought in his heart.

As he opened his eyes, the void dissolved, and the real world welcomed him back.

The trial had shown him the abyss. And now, he would step away from its edge.