Lin Xuan steadied his breathing, his eyes locked onto the shifting shadows ahead. The trial was not over. The true challenge was about to begin.

A low, guttural sound rumbled from within the abyss, reverberating through the stone walls. The mist thickened, turning into a silvery haze that obscured his vision. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to prepare for battle.

Then, the ground trembled.

Lin Xuan leaped back just as a jagged fissure tore through the ground where he had been standing. From its depths, an eerie glow pulsed, illuminating the cavern in an unnatural light. The glow coalesced into ghostly figures—warriors clad in spectral armor, their hollow eyes filled with boundless hatred.

"Ancient souls trapped within the abyss," Lin Xuan murmured, gripping his sword tighter.

One of the phantoms let out a shriek before lunging forward, its translucent blade slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Lin Xuan barely managed to dodge, rolling to the side before counterattacking with a swift strike of his own. His sword met resistance—not against flesh, but against an unnatural force, as if the very will of the abyss resisted his attack.

The other specters surged forward.

Lin Xuan’s body reacted instinctively. Channeling the power of the Heavenly Script, he moved with speed and precision, his strikes cutting through the phantoms like moonlight piercing the darkness. Each defeated specter dissolved into wisps of energy, dissipating into the air, but more took their place.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

This is endless.

His mind raced. He needed to break the cycle. There had to be a source—an anchor keeping these spirits bound.

Then he saw it.

A floating monolith, covered in ancient inscriptions, pulsed with the same eerie light as the spirits. It hovered just beyond the battlefield, half-shrouded in mist. The runes carved into its surface seemed familiar, as if they were calling out to him.

Lin Xuan dashed toward it, weaving through the endless tide of spirits. He ignored the burning in his muscles, his focus locked onto the monolith. Just as he reached it, the air around him thickened, pressing down on him like an unseen force.

A deep voice echoed within his mind.

“You are not yet worthy.”

Pain erupted in his chest as an invisible force struck him, sending him tumbling across the stone floor. He gasped for breath, barely managing to push himself up onto his hands and knees. The voice had weight—an ancient will resisting his presence.

Lin Xuan wiped the blood from his lips. Not worthy? Then I’ll prove myself.

He forced himself to his feet, his aura surging. The Heavenly Script within him roared to life, golden script manifesting around him, forming intricate symbols of power. He lifted his sword, pointing it at the monolith.

"If you wish to stop me, then test me!" he declared, his voice steady despite the pain.

A deep hum resonated from the monolith. The air crackled with energy, and suddenly, the spirits withdrew, forming a wide circle around him. The mist thickened once more, and the shadows stirred. Something—someone—was coming.

Lin Xuan tightened his grip on his sword. His trial was far from over.

And he would face it head-on.

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