“Yes!”
That was the voice of the man suspected to be a book attendant. In an instant, the towering beams of light surrounding Shi Hao vanished, sinking into the earth.
As the light receded, the ground trembled violently, cracks appearing where the beams had disappeared.
The Golden Lion’s eyes widened, sucking in a cold breath as it shivered uncontrollably—for beneath the soil, it had glimpsed fragments of immortal bones buried there.
They were incomplete, shattered remnants, a grim testament to the fate of beings of that caliber who had once dared to trespass here.
Soon, a verdant wooden bridge materialized, stretching from the distant low hills and rolling terrain.
Shaped like a stone arch bridge but crafted from wood, its surface was adorned with branches bearing crystalline, jade-like leaves.
The bridge pulsed with an overwhelming vitality, radiating a divine aura.
A divine tree!
Without a doubt, this bridge had been forged from an ancient sacred tree.
“An immortal tree, slain and refined into a bridge,” Shi Hao marveled inwardly.
At the end of the arching bridge, amidst lush hills, the path stretched unhindered over medicinal fields.
Shi Hao was certain that without this bridge, any direct intrusion would have meant instant death. He had already witnessed the earth’s hidden, peerless formations—once activated, they would slay gods and buddhas alike!
Descending the bridge, the hills were lush with greenery, the air crisp as if in a paradise untouched by time.
The sky here was slightly brighter, yet still veiled in a misty gloom, obscuring the heavens.
Not far off, numerous low peaks bore grand palaces—some forged from silver metal, others gold, and still others from bronze.
These structures exuded an indescribable terror; merely gazing upon them threatened to shatter one’s soul.
*Pfft!*
The Golden Lion spat a mouthful of blood, having foolishly tried to peer at a silver ancient hall atop one of the hills. The backlash was akin to enduring a cataclysmic heavenly tribulation, nearly unbearable.
Each palace was ancient beyond measure, any one of them seemingly capable of suppressing the heavens themselves!
“Do not look recklessly. Those places are not for your eyes,” the man suspected to be a book attendant said coldly.
Shi Hao and the Golden Lion snapped to attention, their gazes drawn to the source of the voice.
Ahead, nestled in the flatlands between the hills, stood several thatched cottages—simple yet transcendent, far removed from the grandeur of the ancient palaces.
“Those who survive the trial of that path have earned the right to live,” a gentle voice spoke again, emanating from the mist-shrouded cottage.
“Yes!” The book attendant seemed to nod.
Shi Hao’s heart stirred, and he exhaled slightly in relief.
“To meet my master, you must first cross this small lake,” the book attendant added.
A short distance away, a crystalline lake, blue as a sapphire, separated Shi Hao from the cottage.
He had long dismounted the Golden Lion, knowing better than to ride his steed in such a place.
The Golden Lion hesitated at the lakeshore, unwilling to step forward—it hadn’t even survived the ancient path on its own merits.
Shi Hao took the first step, his foot touching the lake’s surface. Ripples spread, each step conjuring vast starfields, as if treading upon the cosmos itself.
Behind him, the Golden Lion shuddered, sensing the terrifying power at play.
Watching Shi Hao advance steadily, it hesitated before tentatively pressing a claw onto the water.
*Boom!*
Agony seared through the lion as its flesh dissolved, fur sloughing off, claws snapping, leaving only gleaming bone.
With a stifled roar, it recoiled in horror, scrambling backward.
Despite its efforts, the wound refused to heal—only golden bones remained, flesh and fur irreparably lost.
What kind of lake was this?
Shi Hao, now dozens of paces ahead, fared no better. His feet rotted away, revealing pearly bones, yet he pressed on.
The lake’s serene surface belied its horror—ripples birthed starfields, the aura of creation and destruction swirling like an unfolding universe.
As Shi Hao progressed, the decay climbed his legs, then his torso, until he was little more than a skeletal figure, sinking into the abyss.
The Golden Lion despaired—if even Shi Hao perished, what hope did it have?
Yet, against all odds, as Shi Hao submerged completely, he began to rise again. Flesh regrew, hair sprouted—rebirth amidst annihilation.
By the time he reached the far shore, his body was whole once more, radiant with renewed vitality.
“The Lake of Cosmos, the Lake of Life and Death—only the truly exceptional may cross,” the man before the cottage remarked, his voice warmer now.
Shi Hao beheld him—a man of striking elegance, no older than thirty in appearance, clad in flawless white robes. His beauty was peerless, his gaze fathomless.
“To survive the path marks you as one of us. To cross this lake is the final trial. You may now meet me.”
The man smiled.
Without doubt, this was the master of the forbidden land.
His words hinted at recognition—Shi Hao had the potential to stand among them.
It felt surreal, like a dream. To breach a forbidden land and stand before such a being was beyond imagination.
Though he had heard of the celestial forbidden realms, he had never dared approach—until now.
And here, in the lower realms, he had encountered a being of that unfathomable tier.
“Sit. Attendant, serve tea,” the white-robed man said gracefully.
Before the cottage stood a low table with two stump seats. The man took one, gesturing for Shi Hao to take the other.
The so-called attendant, though youthful in appearance, bore eyes that spoke of eons lived.
Behind the master stood a woman of ethereal beauty—likely an immortal herself.
Shi Hao hesitated only briefly before seating himself calmly.
“Eons have passed, ages untold, until at last, a worthy youth arrives,” the master mused, his sigh laced with something sharper—a resonance like blades clashing, capable of sundering heavens and rewriting fate.
The attendant served tea, its fragrance intoxicating. Within the cup, a crimson phoenix seemed to flutter, its essence infusing the brew.
Shi Hao was stunned. What manner of tea was this, surpassing even the legendary Enlightenment Tea?
“Merely wild leaves, grown by my own hand,” the master said, as if reading his thoughts.
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