The Dao’s resonance was ethereal, as if emanating from beyond the Nine Heavens. The further they advanced, the more overwhelming and thunderous it became. By the end, it felt as though a colossal crimson bell tolled around them, its reverberations mingling with the mysteries of the cosmos and endless flickering glyphs. In the vast, empty hall, such phenomena naturally seized one’s soul.
Shi Hao and Huo Ling’er pressed forward, the crimson bell flickering in and out of existence, while the chanting of scriptures grew clearer, as if whispered directly into their ears. Finally, they arrived before a towering crimson stone altar, upon which rested an ancient scripture exuding an archaic aura of the Great Dao.
“What?” Even Shi Hao was stunned. How could it be so straightforward? They had merely arrived, and here lay a scripture right before them. He had expected treacherous trials and countless obstacles before any reward, yet here it was—a scripture resting openly upon the altar.
The crimson bell tolled, its runes shimmering as it hovered above the altar, enveloping the ancient scripture in its resonant chime. The vast hall, now bearing this altar with its guarded scripture, was enough to unsettle even the most composed mind.
“Is this… the ancient scripture of the Sacred Emperor?” Huo Ling’er’s flawless face flushed with excitement, her eyes alight with longing.
The crimson altar pulsed with fading runes, while the scripture itself radiated archaic symbols, suffused with the essence of the Great Dao—clearly no ordinary artifact. Yet, the moment Shi Hao approached, an immense force repelled him, barring his advance.
“I’ve heard this scripture is unique—it cannot be forcibly opened. One must sit and listen, and what one comprehends depends on fortune,” Huo Ling’er explained.
Shi Hao sighed. This was clearly a sacred relic of the Huo Clan, and he likely lacked the affinity for it.
Huo Ling’er stepped forward, also encountering resistance, but she quickly settled into meditation, harmonizing with the scripture’s resonance. Her flawless skin glowed as the Huo Clan’s inherited scriptures resonated with the Dao’s voice, manifesting crimson symbols across her body, exuding an enigmatic aura.
“It’s working. You should try too,” she glanced back at him.
Shi Hao sat cross-legged before the crimson altar, closing his eyes to attune himself to the scripture’s rhythm, seeking its hidden truths. Yet, for half an hour, he heard only the grand chanting, indistinct beneath the bell’s toll.
Meanwhile, Huo Ling’er had already entered deep meditation, her form serene and sacred, bathed in a soft glow. Rising, Shi Hao circled the altar, scrutinizing the scripture. Did one need the Huo Clan’s heritage to comprehend it?
Frustrated, he realized this trial was meant for those with Vermilion Bird blood—an outsider like him stood little chance.
Three days later, Huo Ling’er awoke, her body now inscribed with dense crimson symbols—fruits of her communion with the scripture.
“Just as my father said—each person comprehends a different truth here. This is a world-shaking scripture penned by the Sacred Emperor!” she rejoiced, recalling how her father had once meditated here, laying the foundation for his future ascension.
“Did you gain nothing?” she asked.
Shi Hao shook his head, grinning. “Could you teach me some of the Huo Clan’s runes? Nothing profound—just what’s commonly known.”
“You’re shameless,” she retorted, knowing full well his intentions. Still, she relented, imparting a basic incantation—one already known beyond the clan’s confines.
Grateful, Shi Hao immediately resumed meditation, invoking the newly learned runes. His talent shone as he effortlessly wielded the technique, his body soon wreathed in flames and crimson symbols.
Suddenly, he heard a majestic voice—an ancient Dao, infused with imperial might, as though the Sacred Emperor himself lectured from the altar.
Yet, this wasn’t what Shi Hao sought. He desired divine abilities—the Vermilion Bird’s treasure art, not the Sacred Emperor’s legacy.
Huo Ling’er gaped in astonishment. How could he comprehend so swiftly with just the basic runes?
Shi Hao’s vision shifted. The altar now bore a hazy figure shrouded by the crimson bell, surrounded by flickering characters—hints of techniques, runes, and Vermilion Bird flames.
Spotting the words “Treasure Art,” Shi Hao resonated with them without hesitation.
**Boom!**
A crimson divine bird materialized, its gaze imperious. Shi Hao realized his mistake—this avian beast dove at him, locking him in combat. Struggling to rise, he recognized the illusion and focused his spirit, breaking free to engage the creature.
“What are you doing?!” Huo Ling’er cried out.
**Clang!**
A deafening toll jolted Shi Hao awake. He hadn’t clashed with the bird—his palm had struck the crimson bell instead. A searing shockwave hurled him back, the bell’s Dao force overwhelming.
Fortunately, he dispersed the impact with Kun Peng’s art, sparing himself injury.
“What just happened?” he muttered.
Huo Ling’er approached, listening before frowning. “My father said outsiders could challenge the trial for rewards—if they succeed.”
The hall’s aura shifted. The altar vanished, replaced by a glowing path. Ahead lay a cushion pulsing with runes, emitting Dao thunder—a place for consolidating gains.
“This is where one refines their comprehension,” Huo Ling’er said, stepping forward. The cushion pulled her in, scriptures manifesting above her as crimson symbols enveloped her form.
“I may enter deep slumber. Be careful,” she warned before flames engulfed her, the scripture’s pages turning autonomously.
Shi Hao watched, resigned. This trial was undeniably tailored for the Huo Clan.
Then, he noticed a newly appeared black colosseum of obsidian stone, beside which stood a stele inscribed with text—a challenge for non-Huo Clan aspirants.
**”Four Strikes of the Primordial Vermilion Bird!”**
Shi Hao’s heart raced. The reward was beyond imagination.
The stele explained: the Sacred Emperor’s scripture was exclusive, but other legacies awaited the worthy. The Four Strikes, though deemed “fragments,” were peerless.
The Primordial Vermilion Bird was a celestial terror, its lineage lost. Even the Huo Clan’s Sacred Emperor and Xiao Hong’s ancestors had failed to restore its full art, only deriving these four strikes—usable only by those with a physique rivaling the Primordial Vermilion Bird’s.
Most would perish attempting them.
But Shi Hao hesitated not. He entered the colosseum.
**Boom!**
A fiery bird of crimson runes descended, battle erupting instantly. The trial was brutal—meant to cull the unworthy.
Shi Hao held nothing back, unleashing Kun Peng’s might and his Ten Heavenly Passage Domains. The colosseum trembled, cracked, then exploded as the crimson avian was slain.
Silence fell. The trial was complete.
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