A wild boar came snorting and charging at Han, its breath so rank it kicked up a cloud of dust. Han stared at it, unimpressed. You again? He’d tangled with plenty of these beasts last time he hunted for the Sky-Mending Vine. Black Mountain must be a pig farm or something.


    As the boar barreled toward him, Han casually flicked out a kick, sending the clueless critter airborne. Up you go! It squealed like it was being butchered, tumbling like a gourd before scrambling up and bolting off.


    “Stupid pig,” Han chuckled, half-scolding. “That weak and you’re out here playing bandit? I’ll let you off this time, but show up again and you’re red-braised pork.”


    Since clearing the second trial, he’d trekked a fair stretch, and the woods were starting to crawl with beasts. Weak ones, though—nothing to sweat over. No hint of the third trial had popped up either, so he kept moving.


    Outside Black Mountain, the crowd saw Han pause again after a short walk. Above his head, a small projection flickered to life, replaying his boar-kicking antics. Tianhe Venerable chimed in right on cue: “The third trial’s combat. The ancestor’s power crafts a hyper-real illusion—so real, those inside won’t even clock it. They’ll think they’re deep in Black Mountain, facing real beasts.”


    A Mountain God’s skill level? To these youngsters, the illusion might as well be reality. “It’s the safest bet to keep them in one piece,” Tianhe added. Not a 100% guarantee, though—illusions could still kill. The god wouldn’t off them, but a bad trip could rattle their minds. Non-lethal, sure, but they’d need downtime to recover. Suzhen Palace and the like got it—the Yun family had already gone above and beyond on safety.


    “And it’s not just straight-up brawls,” Tianhe continued. “Once you hit the third trial, random curveballs come at you. Beyond raw strength, it tests reflexes, crisis management—the works. Only an illusion lets us cook up all sorts of believable chaos.”


    The crowd nodded. Strength was the obvious benchmark—always would be. Talent, luck, lineage? Nice, but power was king. People fawned over prodigies because they could grow into titans. Strength trumped all—beggars outshone emperors with it; without it, even a supreme ruler was dirt.


    Take today’s world: the emperors of Qi, Zhou, and Jin were no pushovers. Picking a crown prince? Lots of boxes to check, but talent and strength topped the list. Say a Qi royal got lost in an old succession spat—years later, they ascend to immortality and roll into the capital. No question: the moment they land in Jade Capital, it’s “All hail Your Majesty!” The sitting emperor? One sun, one ruler—quit spouting nonsense, Qi’s got no other emperor! Loyalty’d flip to the immortal in a heartbeat. Shame no royal bloodline had birthed an immortal since founding their dynasties.


    Someone piped up, eyeing Han’s boar punt. “That counts as combat?”


    Tianhe paused, then said, “It’s a ramp-up process. But check this—Han’s move shows he’s not bloodthirsty. A bit of mercy, right?”


    Huh? The crowd blinked, then nodded. Fair point. Beasts weren’t human—no rights there—but someone slaughtering them left and right for no reason? Sketchy vibes, hinting at a nasty streak. I can kill like it’s nothing, but I’d rather see more good folks out there, they reasoned.


    Some started sweating. Their disciples weren’t exactly saints—hot-headed, violent, kill-happy types. Under this spotlight, who’d root for that? The Mountain God wouldn’t want his rewards landing in cruel hands either—ungrateful types rarely paid it forward.


    Han didn’t overthink it. Sparing the boar was just habit, not some grand kindness. Low-tier beasts? Useless to him. Kill or let live, whatever—unless they pestered him or had loot, he’d cut them slack. With their pea brains, revenge wasn’t even on the table. He didn’t waste energy on pointless stuff.


    The road ahead got livelier—more beasts, tougher too. Still small fry for Han’s Bone Forging-level chops. Mid-stride, space warped around him. When his head cleared, the trees loomed taller, wilder—primeval vibes, like the deeper Black Mountain zones he’d hit before. What trick teleported me here?


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    A withered vine caught his eye, sprouting a vivid red flower—gorgeous, pulsing with spiritual energy. Han perked up. Treasure? The Mountain God’s looking out for me! But he stayed sharp, scanning the area for lurking beasts. Mental senses on, eyes peeling every corner—he’d juiced his vision with treasures, seeing beyond the norm.


    Nothing stood out. Still, he kept a sliver of caution. This was a trial, and the third stage hadn’t spelled out its rules—anything could be part of the test. Coating himself in Heavenly Light, he edged toward the flower. Careful, sure, but passing up loot? Not his style.


    As his hand reached out, chaos erupted. The vine moved—hissing, tongue flicking, lunging at him. A snake beast, camouflaged perfectly—he hadn’t clocked it at all. The flower? Growing right out of its head. What kind of freak show is this? I hate snakes!


    Han didn’t flinch. His palm shot up, shrouded in hazy but tough Heavenly Light, and—whack!—smacked the snake’s skull. You scared the crap outta me, you know that?!


    Outside, Tianhe nodded. “That’s one of the third trial’s surprises. Han handled it like a pro—scoped it out first, didn’t slack off grabbing the prize, and faced the ambush head-on without blinking.”


    He clearly liked the kid’s style. “Anything they snag in the illusion? If they pass, the Yun family hands over the real deal afterward. Part of the reward—like the devil essence from the first trial.”


    “What if someone skips the treasure?” a voice asked.


    “That dodges the ambush, sure,” Tianhe said, a glint in his eye. “But later, rarer stuff’ll pop up. Ignore it all, and you’re golden too. Thing is, cultivation’s about wrestling fate from the heavens. They know this is a test, so caution might win out now. But in the real world, facing the same odds—can they still walk away?”


    Wrestling fate! You don’t fight, you think the sky’s gonna hand it to you? Though, if someone could shrug off every temptation out there, that iron will alone would turn heads. But… anyone like that exist?


    Tianhe’s words clicked—everyone got what the Yun family wanted in this trial. Cool with rock-solid resolve, unmoved by loot? Respect. But they’d rather see bold, sharp, cautious-but-daring types who’d seize their shot at “fate.” Their disciples’ choices, though? Hard to call. It’s a test—knowing that might overcomplicate things, skewing their true colors. Who’s playing the basic game, who’s five steps ahead? Beats me.


    “Suzhen Saintess cleared the second trial!” That yanked the crowd’s focus. Sure enough, Jiang Yanyao mirrored Han’s earlier feat, nailing both techniques.


    “Her time… about the same as Han’s?”


    “Pretty much.”


    Gasps all around—not at Jiang Yanyao, but at Han’s comprehension sinking in deeper. This was the Suzhen Saintess, a top-tier prodigy, destined to rule a premier tradition. And Taibai’s Han kept pace with her? Sure, it’s early days, just one metric—future’s a toss-up—but still wild.


    Suzhen’s elders stayed mellow, pleased with their saintess, unbothered by Han tying her. Nosy stares? Ignored. A saintess’s greatness isn’t measured by one test—generations of elite prove it. Still, this Black Cloud champ? No fluke—lived up to the hype.


    Lu Qingmo’s eyes flicked to Jiang Yanyao. She’d pegged Han as a reincarnated big shot. This saintess, though… those legends—truth or tall tales?


    “Looks like Han, the saintess, and a few others are locks to pass,” someone said.


    “With that showing? Unstoppable.”


    “If prodigies like them can’t make it, we’re all toast.”


    Fair point—the Mountain God’s test was a gift, not a massacre. Stumping Han or Jiang Yanyao would mean no one’s getting through—why bother with rewards then? For top-tier talents, this was a breeze; their mentors knew it. The real fight? Who’d shine brightest, outdazzle the rest. Beating peers mattered as much as—or more than—the god’s prizes. Unshakable confidence, invincible aura—that’s the stakes.


    Thanks to the first trial’s devils being Han’s “buddies,” he’d rocketed ahead. Right now, he was the star, outshining Jiang Yanyao, Cui Yaozhi, and the other big-tradition hotshots. Still way out front!


    Bai Tian, his master, beamed. Taking Han as a disciple was the cherry on his hall-master career.


    Inside, Jiang Yanyao strode on, calm as a still pond. The test? Other rivals? Didn’t faze her. As Suzhen’s 2,999th saintess, she’d be the pinnacle, lifting the palace to new heights. Leading or lagging now? Meh. Though, she didn’t buy anyone outdoing her either.


    Later, Cui Yaozhi and Suo Xian cleared the second trial. Gazing at the dense, speckled-light forest, Cui Yaozhi sighed. He’d likely trailed the saintess—fourth son of the Cui head, he knew he didn’t quite match her. But falling behind now didn’t mean forever. Prodigy pride fueled him. The rest? He wasn’t sweating them. Han, his new Black Cloud pal? No competition here—tradition depth just wasn’t there. Suo Xian and the others thought the same.


    The regular Joes? Still slogging way back. First place? A pipe dream—passing at all was a stretch, even with everything they had.


    Sometimes, they’d wonder: Who’s up front? Top-tradition prodigies filled their heads. Han? Stellar, sure, but against Jiang Yanyao’s ilk, his roots seemed thinner. That heritage gap—tough to bridge without equal footing. Few pegged him as the frontrunner.


    “Whew.” Han wiped his brow, fresh off dropping a Bone Forging beast. “That oughta hit the passing bar, right?” First place? Just a title—he liked keeping it low-key. Clearing was enough. Humility’s a virtue, after all. He overflowed with it.