Amidst the swirling snow, Meng Qi sat cross-legged before the ancient, weathered ice wall. His eyes, like ancient lamps, emitted a three-foot glow, with black and white hues endlessly cycling within. Every ice crystal and the intricate ways they combined were “illuminated” clearly, absorbed into the depths of his pupils and fed into the lamp’s wick, where they were continuously analyzed, restructured, and evolved. Gradually, illusory rules emerged, shimmering like crystal or glass, flickering repeatedly in Meng Qi’s gaze.
Across his knees lay a translucent purple lightning longsword. One hand gripped the hilt while the other caressed the blade, probing its structural mysteries and absorbing the myriad pieces of information emanating from its depths.
Within Meng Qi’s gently undulating sea of consciousness, the mist grew ever thicker, forming an abyssal darkness that revealed a primordial pool seemingly suspended above the Nine Heavens. Within it, lightning had transformed into liquid—silver-white, pure cyan, golden, radiant violet, black-and-white—all distinct in their layers. The deeper one went, the more overwhelming and terrifying each drop of lightning water became, enough to make one tremble. Yet, the scene at the bottom of the pool remained beyond Meng Qi’s current comprehension. Even with the complete memories of the Peerless Blade, it was nothing but a blur—a sight so awe-inspiring it seemed capable of annihilating entire epochs.
The “soil” and “rocks” surrounding the ancient pool were extraordinary, continuously battered and shaken by the lightning waters, gradually shedding their original forms to become multicolored crystals—supreme materials for artifact forging. The deeper one ventured, the higher their quality.
The lightning waters rippled, with electric arcs crisscrossing their surface. Every drop of “water” and every bolt of lightning connected to different universes, imposing upon them the laws of electromagnetism. Meanwhile, the indistinct depths of the pool seemed to form a stable link with an indescribably profound place, as if it were a part of it.
Thus, the vision of the “Primordial Lightning Pool” emerged in Meng Qi’s sea of consciousness through the information transmitted by the Peerless Blade, exuding an ancient, mysterious, and primordial aura—as though one could traverse through it back to the Primordial Epoch.
*Thump! Thump! Thump!*
From the deepest, unseen depths of the lightning pool, as if life itself were gestating, came powerful, rhythmic pulsations, sending ripples across the surface.
Faintly, Meng Qi felt a visceral connection with the Primordial Lightning Pool, as though it were a part of his own body—a fragment of his past.
This sensation did not surprise him. The Nine Heavens Thunder God had been born from the Primordial Lightning Pool, so their connection was inevitable. As for Meng Qi’s own relationship with the Thunder God, no further explanation was needed. Yet, there remained an inexplicable, eerie palpitation—one that, even upon careful examination, he could not trace to its source.
Suppressing this unease, Meng Qi immersed his mind in the vision of the Primordial Lightning Pool, then channeled the illusory rules of the ice wall into his eyes, cross-referencing and deducing.
Amidst flashes of lightning and sparks, time flew by. After an indeterminate period, materials began flying out from the ice pillars, encircling Meng Qi before descending into his hands and being cast into a flame flickering with the four colors of red, cyan, black, and white—the hues of the Four Symbols.
Amidst the crackling sounds of forging, failure came time and again as expected. Through these trials, Meng Qi continuously refined his insights and gains.
After all, it wasn’t his own resources being spent—these were from the Jade Void Palace’s treasury.
After hundreds of failures, Meng Qi suddenly opened his eyes. The ancient lamp was gone, leaving only pitch-black, unfathomable depths in his gaze. The remaining materials descended in unison, while dozens of strands of hair flew from each of the two corpses.
A single strand could sever the sun and moon; a single strand could be an entire world!
The flames surged, the four colors churning like boiling water as all materials melted, combined, and restructured.
After a full half-hour, the four colors vanished abruptly, replaced by a burst of snowy radiance that illuminated the entire realm. The ancient ice wall trembled faintly, emitting a low, resonant hum that caused the hidden grounds of Zhixu Mountain to glow with an otherworldly brilliance, drawing astonished gazes from every peak and valley.
In Meng Qi’s open palm rested a translucent ice crystal with thousands upon thousands of facets. It hovered between reality and illusion, each facet reflecting light differently due to its angle, creating a paradoxical spectacle of purity and brilliance—a manifestation of sacred, unchanging rhythm, containing the profound power of inherent laws.
This was a divine spark embodying the concepts of ice, snow, and retribution—one that would last for two hours.
After a moment’s thought, Meng Qi smiled and imprinted a series of messages into the divine spark:
“Title: God of Ice and Snow, Lord of Retribution.”
“Divine Rank: 18 (Greater).”
“Domains: Cold, Blizzard, Freezing, Discipline, Punishment.”
The divine spark rose and floated toward the ice wall. As the two drew closer, their resonance intensified, and the low hum grew louder.
When their synchronization reached a certain point, the divine spark dissolved into the ice wall. After a faint tremor, everything returned to normal—as if nothing had happened. The wall remained as it had been for ages: an insurmountable barrier.
Yet, when Meng Qi approached the ice wall, the crystals shifted on their own, forming a path that faintly revealed the scene beyond!
This was a spy infiltrating the enemy’s ranks—a “backdoor”!
With a flash of escaping light, Meng Qi traversed the Wall of Halting in mere moments.
Outside the hidden grounds, the middle-aged scholar in white robes ceased his argument with the black-robed elder and turned his gaze toward the ancient bronze gate. There, a spectacle of ice and snow erupted like fireworks, painting the sky with wondrous colors.
“He passed the second trial?” the scholar murmured, half to himself.
The elder frowned. “Not much slower than you were—just a few hours.”
The scholar turned back, stunned. “Are you sure he never studied the creation of divine sparks or incarnate-type Huangjin Warriors?”
He himself had spent countless years mastering it!
“Who knows?” The elder shrugged. “He is the Cause of All Effects. Our deductions about him are often vague. Besides, at the Legendary realm, standing at the apex of infinity and overlooking all worlds, one’s perspective changes entirely. Understanding one principle illuminates a hundred others.”
The scholar sighed bitterly. “I’d rather believe he studied it before or sought guidance from an expert. That would make me feel a little better…”
From all corners of Zhixu Mountain, gazes turned toward the hidden grounds, unable to fathom how an outsider could craft a divine spark or incarnate warrior in such a short time—let alone achieve the synchronization required to bypass the Wall of Halting!
Even they couldn’t do it yet!
Yue Ziqing grew ever more doll-like, her every movement flawlessly precise, yet the fire in her eyes burned with fervor and madness.
…
Unaware of the outside reactions, Meng Qi now faced the third trial.
Beyond the ice wall lay half a hall, severed by an illusory river flowing from an unknown origin toward an unknown destination—eternal and unchanging, bearing witness to countless generations of joys and sorrows.
“Is this… the River of Time?” Meng Qi was momentarily stunned.
Wasn’t manipulating the River of Time a power exclusive to those who had reached the Other Shore?
How could the founder of Zhixu Mountain manifest it here as the third trial?
Activating his Wisdom Eye, the ancient lamp flickered to life as Meng Qi scrutinized the scene. Finally, he exhaled in relief.
This was not the true River of Time of the Real World, nor was it the genuine article. Instead, it was a forbidden formation created by the founder of Zhixu Mountain, merging this realm’s localized River of Time with various arrangements.
As the supreme being who had forged the Zhixu Mountain realm, though his mastery over time fell short of the Primordial Projection’s creation of Brahma, he was still capable of manipulating this localized River of Time to a significant degree!
Extending his divine sense into the current node, Meng Qi’s mind was instantly flooded with countless tributaries. Within each, certain events were fated to occur—one of which was “his failure to cross this illusory river.”
The tide had turned; fate could no longer be altered.
This was the third trial.
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