“Where is that city?” Shi Hao asked.
“Beyond the Three Thousand Provinces, in the deepest reaches of the Endless Forbidden Zone,” replied a middle-aged man, seated cross-legged on a broken cliff. His gray daoist robe, stiff as steel, did not flutter in the wind.
Though he had learned some of this before, Shi Hao couldn’t help but sigh softly.
The Borderlands, the Ancient Covenant, the annihilation of all life in the previous era, the battlefield where the old master of the Celestial Clan was headed—all these intertwined, casting an oppressive weight upon him.
These places, these people and events, some were inextricably linked!
“Is this a path we must take?” Ning Chuan spoke up, his snow-white robes flawless, silver hair like frost, his face so beautiful it could incite envy even in women.
In truth, the blue-eyed woman who had brought them here, as well as the cold, aloof one, had both stolen glances at him along the journey.
For a man to possess such looks was rare indeed. Coupled with his peerless talent and transcendent cultivation, it was impossible for him not to draw attention.
Even among the immortal descendants they knew, few young men could match his extraordinary bearing.
“This path must be taken. It is a trial, a tempering, to give you a glimpse of what lies ahead—how cruel it will be,” came the cold, emotionless voice from the cliff, where chaotic mist swirled.
Ning Chuan did not reply immediately, lost in thought.
That forbidden zone was vast beyond measure, with no end in sight.
The Three Thousand Provinces were already immense, yet even the most optimistic estimates placed them at less than a tenth of that boundless forbidden land. It was, in truth, unfathomable.
The terror of that domain was known to all since ancient times.
Countless mighty figures had ventured in, only to vanish without a trace—among them many elder sect masters, beings of profound cultivation.
“Senior, isn’t this a bit too demanding? A place so perilous, and we haven’t even reached the Heavenly Deity Realm—wouldn’t this journey be suicide?” Ning Chuan said.
“Though many strong have perished, some have returned alive. You should know this,” replied one of the middle-aged men on the cliff.
In that forbidden zone, encountering living beings was not the greatest danger. Some mysterious substances were far more terrifying—a pool of rotten yellow mud that could dissolve a sect master in an instant, a drop of multicolored water capable of annihilating a supreme expert, an ordinary withered grass unleashing sword qi that could sever stars…
Nine out of ten sect masters who entered died to such substances, not at the hands of living creatures.
“Strength alone is not always the key to survival, for some things defy even the imagination of sect masters, let alone resistance.”
His meaning was clear: cultivation prowess was not decisive in that forbidden land, for the dangers there surpassed even the might of sect masters.
Thus, in a way, the young supremes of this generation stood on the same starting line as the elder sect masters.
And the more one understood this, the more terrifying it became—revealing just how perilous that environment was, where death lurked at every turn, ready to claim the lives of prodigies.
“Senior, this is too much. You’re practically sending us to our deaths. I know the world may soon be engulfed in war, but this isn’t nurturing experts—it’s squandering talent,” Shi Hao said.
On the cliff, amidst the chaos, the three figures laughed—a rare, bleak expression breaking their stoic faces.
“You’ve learned quite a bit. Indeed, the world will soon be aflame, plunged into chaos—an unimaginable calamity!”
Then, with a sigh, the cliff grew hazier, as if the three were lost in some sorrowful reverie.
“You don’t understand how brutal war will be. An entire era of powerful beings was wiped out—what hope does this generation have?”
They spoke bluntly, laying bare the grim, hopeless truth.
“In our eyes, it’s better to forge one dragon than ten thousand worms!”
Their words were brutal, drenched in blood, making it clear: they sought supreme experts, not the conventional nurturing of so-called prodigies.
Entering the Celestial Academy would be a blood-soaked ordeal where anything could happen. They needed figures capable of turning the tide of war—ones who could not be cultivated through ordinary means.
For even the beings of the previous era had fallen, even dozens of immortals had perished in battle. Despair loomed. Only those who transcended, who shook the ages, could stand a chance.
Shi Hao and Ning Chuan were no ordinary men. They needed no further explanation to grasp the gravity.
This world was not lacking in geniuses. What the Celestial Academy sought were “variables”—supremes who defied reason.
What kind of pessimism did the future hold?
“Are other ancient realms selecting candidates the same way?” Ning Chuan asked. Born of extraordinary origins, he would not easily throw himself into certain death. Given time, he could dominate the world.
“Across the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, every ancient realm enforces strict standards—some even harsher than ours,” came the reply.
The implication was clear: for the Three Thousand Provinces, they had already relaxed their criteria.
“After all, this land bears the scars of battle, its sealed paths are the most anomalous, and the lingering field effects have stunted the emergence of prodigies. Thus, we’ve adjusted our standards,” another added.
“I still find it unreasonable. Surviving the Forbidden Zone may depend on luck, not strength. To waste rare talents like this is unworthy!” Ning Chuan argued.
If it truly was a death trap, he wanted no part of it.
“We’re not forcing you to die. There is a path—an ancient, desolate one—leading to a city deep in the forbidden zone. It’s relatively calm. You may take it,” said one on the cliff.
“Why must this path be the trial?” Ning Chuan pressed.
“To let you glimpse the horrors that await. The substances in the forbidden zone will appear on the battlefields of the coming war,” revealed one of the middle-aged men.
What?!
These words struck Ning Chuan and Shi Hao like thunder, leaving them stunned.
“Enough. The choice is yours. The Nine Heavens and Ten Earths are not short of geniuses. Many young supremes from other realms have already passed this trial.”
“Fine. I’ll see what this forbidden zone holds,” Shi Hao said, nodding. He would walk this path.
For he had many questions—about the Willow Deity, the Borderlands, the Ancient Covenant—answers he must seek himself.
He had asked the three earlier, only to be met with silence.
“What kind of training awaits in the Celestial Academy?” Ning Chuan inquired.
“Ancient texts, supreme treasures, even the notes of long-lived beings. Immortal caves for seclusion, cultivation methods from beyond this era—perhaps even descendants of true immortals to spar with!”
Each benefit was staggering, a supreme opportunity.
Nearby, the blue-eyed woman, her peerless beauty alight with amusement, winked at Shi Hao. “There are real immortals there—perfect for warming your bed.”
Shi Hao’s face flushed with embarrassment, while Huo Ling’er pinched him again.
“A word of advice: if you don’t want to be beaten to a pulp, behave yourself in the Celestial Academy,” the icy woman said, her jade-like skin and peerless grace radiating cold.
Shi Hao glared. “How about a spar? Let’s see if I can catch you both to tend my bed and pour my tea.”
Above the cliff, the three middle-aged men remained motionless in the mist, stern as ever.
On the violet-gold warship, the three young men exchanged glances, while the two women regarded Shi Hao differently. The blue-eyed one laughed like a spring breeze, while the icy one resembled a winter plum, her frosty aura threatening to freeze him solid.
“Prepare yourselves,” ordered one of the men on the cliff.
“Time to depart.” The five youths on the warship split—three escorting Ning Chuan, the two women accompanying Shi Hao.
Clearly, they knew of the enmity between the Six Crown King and the Wild Child, and sought to prevent immediate bloodshed.
Once on their way, aboard a silver chariot, the blue-eyed woman and the icy fairy both studied Shi Hao.
“Why send you two? Planning to spar? Let’s be clear—if you want to serve me, no need to throw the match. You’d lose anyway,” Shi Hao taunted, sensing their intent.
“Three strands of immortal qi and you think you’re invincible? Before true immortal methods, all crumbles,” the cold beauty retorted.
“A real immortal descendant? A true fairy?” Shi Hao’s eyes lit up. “I’ve never caught one like you before. Thanks for fulfilling my wish!”
The girl’s brows furrowed, immortal aura flaring as mist swirled around her, cold as the moon.
The blue-eyed woman laughed uncontrollably. “Calling such a graceful fairy ‘plump’? Shame on you!”
“No fighting,” a voice warned from afar.
“Teehee, if you don’t enter the academy, fine. But if you do—oh, the fun we’ll have. The Nine Heavens and Ten Earths are full of prodigies. We’ll be waiting,” the blue-eyed girl teased.
On the cliff, the three men sighed.
“The Three Thousand Provinces are weak. Though a few stand out, they’re too few to match other realms.”
“Perhaps we should relax the criteria. Not all supremes manifest immortal qi early. Some bloom late, after centuries.”
“Very well. Let all young elites attempt the journey. If they reach that ancient city, they qualify—regardless of cultivation.”
Thus, they made their decision.
On the silver warship, Huo Ling’er was torn, unwilling to let Shi Hao go. That path was too deadly, and she could not follow.
Her eyes red, she asked, “Where will you go now? What preparations will you make?”
“Get married.”
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