The moment Shadow stepped through the thunder-inscribed gate, the atmosphere changed as if the world had taken a breath and held it.
He emerged onto a wide platform suspended high above a black churning void. Pale clouds swirled in slow spirals below, occasionally illuminated by flashes of lightning that danced beneath his feet. The air was electric—charged with power, silence, and something more primal.
Before him stood a stone altar crowned with flickering jade torches. Floating above it was a radiant scroll, revolving slowly in place, its runes glowing with a steady pulse like a heartbeat.
Shadow approached cautiously. The moment he stepped within five paces, the scroll descended into his hands like it had waited an eternity just for him.
He inhaled sharply.
This wasn't a martial technique. It wasn't even a battle script.
It was a formation.
> *"Ten-Man Convergence Array – Thunder Crown Formation."*
The name burned itself into his mind. Shadow turned the scroll over, absorbing the details with a reverent gaze. Ten cultivators. One acting as the conductor of Qi. A formation that amplified power through synchronization, allowing shared energy pools, reinforced strikes, and layered defenses. Its complexity rivaled the inner workings of a sect's defensive wards.
And yet… this was meant for battle.
"Whoever created this," he muttered, "wasn't just a formation expert. They were a war tactician."
He could see it—used in the heat of conflict, turning even weaker cultivators into a singular, devastating force.
Shadow sealed the scroll into a jade slip and tucked it away into his ring. He would need time—months, maybe longer—to decipher its full structure. But just knowing it existed gave him a new path.
Then the altar vanished.
The air trembled.
Lightning cracked.
The next moment, he found himself standing in the center of a much larger circular platform. Dozens of vertical storm pillars encircled them, drawing arcs of thunder that licked at the stone like the tongue of a sleeping beast.
Wind screamed past his ears, and from four points on the platform, others emerged.
Kaien of the Green Spear Sect.
Li Rong of the White Stone Sect.
Wang Shi of the Crimson Fog Sect.
All had passed their third trials. All stood tall—marked by fresh wounds, battered robes, and eyes that had stared into personal storms.
Kaien was the first to speak, folding his thick arms over his chest. "You again." His voice carried through the wind like a challenge.
Shadow gave a faint smile. "Didn't think I'd see familiar faces again so soon."
Li Rong's eyes were cold, focused. Her silver blades hummed softly in their sheaths. "Fate, or punishment?"
Wang Shi remained silent. But the way he reached toward the shaft of his glaive betrayed his readiness. His eyes never left Shadow.
Then the sky thundered.
> *"Trial Four: Circle of Storms. Four enter. One proceeds."*
There was no ambiguity.
No alliances. No cooperation. This was the tomb's answer to unity:
**Elimination.**
Kaien took one step forward, lightning crackling beneath his boots. "Then let's not wait."
He didn't roar this time. He simply moved—fast.
His feet struck the stone like thunderclaps, and he shot toward Shadow with a green aura enveloping his fists. His Qi surged, trailing like a comet's tail as he accelerated, each footstep supercharged with earth force.
Shadow didn't hesitate.
He stepped sideways into a slipstream of Qi, activating **Flash Blade Art** with his left hand while lightning gathered in his right. He brought his sword up to parry just as Kaien's strike connected.
A **boom** split the air.
Their collision rippled across the platform, cracking the stone beneath them. Dust and energy surged outward in a cone. Shadow was knocked back several meters, his boots dragging against the floor, but he caught his balance.
Kaien stood tall, flexing his fingers. "Good. You're not just lightning and noise."
Shadow shook off the pain. "You hit like a boulder. I see why your sect grows trees instead of blades."
Kaien grinned.
But behind them, the other two had not moved.
Li Rong's eyes narrowed. "Let the brutes exhaust each other."
Wang Shi nodded slowly. "We'll strike after."
Yet they underestimated Shadow.
As Kaien rushed again, Shadow flicked his fingers, letting a ring of thunder spiral around his feet. At the last second, he ducked beneath Kaien's lunge, swept his blade in a wide arc, and redirected the strike toward one of the storm pillars.
Kaien stumbled—barely—and skidded sideways. The arc of his own Qi slammed into the pillar, triggering a chain reaction.
A wave of lightning exploded outward.
The entire platform surged with wild power, and that was when the others moved.
Li Rong vanished, her figure splitting into mirrored images as she darted toward Wang Shi.
The Crimson Fog cultivator spun his glaive, catching her assault with a clang, then launching her back with a sudden pulse of flame-tinged Qi.
And now—
All four were moving.
Clashing.
Trading blows.
The Circle of Storms had begun.
And only one would leave.
But as the battle escalated, Shadow felt it.
Something more than the tomb's trial. Something older.
He heard it in Wang Shi's sharp, mocking whisper as they passed blades.
"Trash from a third-rate sect dares to walk among legacies?"
He saw it in Li Rong's sidelong glance, the disdain flickering beneath her focus.
"You don't belong here," Kaien had growled—not just in battle, but with meaning.
This wasn't just a trial to ascend.
It was a declaration.
Shadow's eyes sharpened.
Let them come.
He'd been kneeling at graves while they trained in gilded halls. Let them call him nothing.
He'd show them what it meant to rise from nothing.
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