Fang Lin's words had barely settled when Myriad Halls Plaza began to move again.
At first, only the weaker and more impatient cultivators had entered the trial doors. Now that several passes, several failures, and more than one death had appeared, the silence among the major sect disciples changed. It was no longer the silence of waiting. It was the silence of people who had seen enough to begin.
The countless dark doors around Myriad Halls Plaza were not level doors. They were only doors, plain, ancient, and cold. A cultivator could choose any one of them, but the moment a hand touched the surface, the trial authority inside Myriad Halls Plaza would decide which level that person had reached and send them into the correct chamber.
That detail made the plaza feel even larger.
No one could block a rival from entering. No one could crowd a single entrance. No one could learn much by watching a door, either, because the true battle remained hidden inside the chamber. Myriad Halls Plaza only showed the result after the cultivator returned, or after the cultivator failed to return at all.
Ye Qinglan looked at the doors for another moment before speaking. "We have waited long enough."
Several Thousand Leaf Immortal Sect disciples straightened at once.
Feng Jiu'er nodded slightly. "If we continue watching, we will only be watching others grow familiar with the rhythm before us."
Su Wanqing's gaze moved across the wounded cultivators who had returned from the first few attempts. "The opponent changes from person to person. Claw wounds, burns, poison, blunt impact, and sword cuts have all appeared. The trial hides the battle, but the injuries still reveal something."
"Then the difficulty is stable, but the form is not," Ye Qinglan said.
Fang Lin's eyes rested on one of the doors. That was reasonable. If every person faced the same opponent, later participants would gain too much advantage. A trial built into a place like this would not make such a simple mistake.
Before their group moved, a cold sword aura drifted over from the Heavenly Sword Lake side.
Jian Wuchen walked over with two disciples behind him. His white-blue robes were neat, and the silver lake emblem at his chest glimmered faintly beneath the ancient light. Xu Hanjiang stood farther back, not beside him. That distance was clever. It allowed River Sword Sect to borrow Heavenly Sword Lake's shadow without making the arrangement look too ugly.
Jian Wuchen's gaze stopped on Fang Lin. "Fellow Daoist Shen Mo."
Fang Lin turned calmly. "Senior Brother Jian."
The title was polite enough that no one could object, but not humble enough to place himself lower.
Jian Wuchen looked at him with the cold directness of a sword cultivator. "I heard you are a rogue cultivator."
"I travel alone for now," Fang Lin said. "Whether that makes me a rogue cultivator depends on who is asking."
A few nearby disciples looked over. The conversation was not loud, but in Myriad Halls Plaza, many people were listening without turning their heads.
Jian Wuchen said, "A man with unclear origin, strong methods, and several grudges often brings trouble to those standing near him."
Feng Jiu'er's gaze sharpened.
Ye Qinglan's expression remained calm, but the green-white light around her sleeve moved once.
Before either of them spoke, Kong Mingyuan's voice came from the side. The Demon Suppression Temple disciple had walked closer at some point, his white-black-gold robes spotless and his prayer beads moving slowly between his fingers.
"Senior Brother Jian's caution is reasonable," Kong Mingyuan said. "This place is connected to the Rivercloud Demon Sealing Ruins, and the inheritance here may not be clean. Those who hide their origins should naturally be observed more carefully. Demon Suppression Temple has always believed that unclear methods lead to unclear disaster."
The words sounded righteous. They were also placed carefully enough that they did not directly accuse Fang Lin of anything.
Fang Lin looked at Kong Mingyuan for a breath, then smiled faintly. "Then this place is convenient. The halls judge methods better than mouths."
Kong Mingyuan's prayer beads paused for half a breath.
Jian Wuchen's eyes narrowed slightly.
Fang Lin continued in the same calm voice. "If Senior Brother Jian is worried that I will bring trouble to those beside me, then you can watch the trial results. If I fail, your worry ends. If I pass, your worry may become more useful."
The line was clear, polite, and sharp enough that several cultivators nearby lowered their eyes to hide their reactions.
Chi Yao of Scarlet Sun Palace smiled with obvious interest. "That answer was more pleasant than most sword cultivators' faces."
Gu Man laughed. "He has a mouth after all. I thought Silent Mountain Sword only knew how to make people pay compensation."
Xu Hanjiang's expression did not change, but his fingers tightened inside his sleeve.
Jian Wuchen gave Fang Lin one more look. "Then I will watch."
"You should," Fang Lin replied. "Everyone here should."
That ended the conversation.
No one mistook it for peace.
Ye Qinglan did not comment on the exchange. She only turned to her group. "Enter when ready. Do not rush beyond what your condition can support. If you are injured, return and rest. If the chamber pressure changes beyond control, admit defeat before pride costs you your life."
Her disciples answered quietly.
On the other sides of Myriad Halls Plaza, the major sect figures also began moving. Jian Wuchen turned and walked toward a door. Chi Yao's red-gold sleeves fluttered as she chose another. Xuan Beihai stepped forward with the steadiness of a mountain crossing a river. Yue Qingning moved silently, her silver-blue mist trailing near her feet. Gu Man rolled his shoulders and grinned as he entered. Ning Shuang vanished through a shadowed door so quietly that several cultivators only noticed after the plaque lit up.
Luo Qianji entered with a smile, still counting something under his breath. Su Lianxue chose her door after handing a pill bottle to one of her followers. Kong Mingyuan entered beneath the watching eyes of Demon Suppression Temple. Mo Yuanli, Ji Xuechan, Lei Yunhe, Chu Wumian, Duan Qingshan, He Lanyue, Lan Meiyu, Qin Xiaodie, and Lian Qing all moved as well.
The plaza that had been waiting suddenly became a place of closing doors.
Feng Jiu'er stopped before one dark door and glanced at Fang Lin. "You are still watching?"
Fang Lin walked to the door beside hers. "No. I only wanted to see who became impatient first."
Her eyes rested on him for a moment. "And?"
"There are many impatient people here."
"Does that include you now?"
"I prefer to call it choosing the right moment."
The corner of Feng Jiu'er's lips moved faintly. "Convenient words."
"Useful ones usually are."
Su Wanqing looked away as if she had not heard them. Ye Qinglan's expression stayed composed, but there was a slight softness in her eyes that had not been there before.
Fang Lin placed his palm on the door.
At the same time, Feng Jiu'er placed her palm on the door beside his.
The dark jade surface turned cold beneath Fang Lin's hand, and the world in front of him folded inward.
When his vision cleared, he stood inside a circular chamber.
The floor was black stone. The walls were smooth and high, without doors or windows. Above him, a pale light hung like a small moon. Across the chamber, a creature lifted its head.
It looked like a wolf, but its body was plated with dull iron scales. Its claws scraped sparks from the ground, and two curved bone spurs grew from its shoulders. Its eyes were yellow, empty, and hungry. It did not speak. It only lowered its body and charged.
Fang Lin's hand closed around Night Burial Sword.
He did not use Frost. He did not use Death depth. He did not draw on Dark Bud in any obvious way. His body shifted half a step, and the iron-scaled wolf missed his throat by the width of a sleeve. Night Burial Sword cut across its foreleg, not with a grand sword light, but with a clean black line.
The wolf crashed sideways, recovered quickly, and attacked again.
Fang Lin watched its rhythm for three breaths.
On the fourth, he stepped into its charge instead of away from it. His shoulder turned, his body force pressed down, and Night Burial Sword pierced through the gap beneath the creature's jaw. The wolf's momentum carried it forward another half step before its body collapsed against the stone floor.
The chamber light trembled.
A jade bottle appeared in front of him.
Fang Lin caught it and saw three words engraved on the bottle.
Clear Spirit Recovery Pill.
The medicinal fragrance was clean and steady even through the seal. This was not a market-stall pill with heavy residue. It was a high-quality Spirit Foundation recovery pill, the kind ordinary inner disciples would save for dangerous battles. To the mansion spirit, it might only be a basic reward. In the outside world, many cultivators would happily pay a painful price for it.
Fang Lin stored the bottle.
The chamber wall opened into darkness again.
When he returned to Myriad Halls Plaza, the plaque above the door showed that he had passed the first level. A few nearby cultivators glanced at him, but not with shock. Many had already passed the first level. Passing was not impressive. Returning without injury was more noteworthy, but still not enough to shake the plaza.
Fang Lin did not wait.
He placed his palm on another door.
The second level began with heat.
The chamber around him became a cracked red stone arena. A humanoid puppet stood in the center, its body built from black wood and copper joints. Flame lines glowed along its arms, and the moment Fang Lin appeared, it struck the ground with both fists. Fire burst outward in a ring.
Fang Lin stepped through the narrowest gap in the fire, his robe brushing heat but not catching flame. The puppet rushed at him with heavy fists, each punch carrying enough force to shatter an ordinary Spirit Foundation cultivator's arm if blocked poorly.
He did not block poorly.
Night Burial Sword met the puppet's wrist joint once, then its elbow, then the glowing line beneath its chest. The puppet's attacks were fierce, but its turning speed lagged behind its strength. Fang Lin did not need to overpower it. He only needed to cut where its movement depended on structure.
After seven exchanges, the puppet froze.
Its chest split open, and the flame lines faded.
The reward this time was a small sealed vial filled with dark metallic liquid.
Black Iron Edge Oil.
Fang Lin recognized its use after one look. It could temper Spirit Foundation weapons and improve edge conduction, especially for metal-aligned blades. It was not a treasure that could transform Night Burial Sword, but it was valuable enough that many sword cultivators would fight over it if they had no major sect backing.
He stored it and returned to the plaza.
More plaques were changing now.
Pass appeared again and again among the stronger groups. Fail flashed among the weaker ones. Death appeared less often than before, not because the trial had become safer, but because the people entering now understood when to retreat.
Feng Jiu'er returned from her second attempt almost at the same time as Fang Lin. There was a faint scorch mark along the edge of her sleeve, but her expression was calm. A small pill bottle rested in her hand before she put it away.
"What did you receive?" she asked.
"A recovery pill and weapon oil," Fang Lin said.
Her eyes shifted slightly. "Those are not poor rewards."
"No," Fang Lin said. "They are only poor compared with what the fifth level should give."
Feng Jiu'er nodded. "Mine was an Emberleaf Recovery Pill. It suits fire and wood Spirit Qi."
"That is useful for you."
"It is." She looked toward the doors. "This mansion calls such things basic. That is what makes the greater rewards dangerous."
Su Wanqing returned shortly after. Her face was a little pale, but her breathing remained stable. A thin cut crossed the back of her hand, already sealed with medicine. "My second reward was a Purifying Mist Talisman," she said quietly. "It can clear poison mist and turbid Qi in a small area."
Ye Qinglan returned a few breaths later with a small green seed sealed inside a crystal bead. "Lifewood Guard Seed," she said after glancing at it. "A one-time defensive support item."
The Thousand Leaf disciples nearby became visibly more serious.
If the first few levels already gave such rewards, then the fifth level could not be ordinary.
Across the plaza, Gu Man came out laughing with blood on his forearm and a red pill bottle in hand. "Iron Beast Blood Pill. Not bad. The mansion has better taste than I expected."
Chi Yao returned from another door with a red-gold talisman between her fingers. "Sunflare Talisman," she said, looking at the faint fire-light within it. "Useful."
Gu Man grinned. "Why do your rewards sound prettier than mine?"
Chi Yao looked at his wounded arm, then his face. "Perhaps the hall rewards people according to appearance."
Several Ancient Beast Hall disciples looked offended, but Gu Man laughed so loudly that one of them pretended to study the nearest plaque.
The trial continued.
Fang Lin entered the third level.
This time, the chamber became a swamp of black water. A long serpent rose from beneath the surface, its body covered in dark green scales and its head crowned with three bony ridges. Its eyes carried a trace of intelligence, but not enough for speech. Poison vapor drifted from its mouth as it circled him.
Fang Lin did not step into the water.
He tested the edge of the stone platform beneath his feet and immediately understood that the platform would sink if he stood still too long. The serpent wanted him in the water. The chamber wanted him to move.
He let the platform sink halfway before leaping to the next stone. The serpent struck where he had been, and black water exploded upward. Fang Lin's robe fluttered from the force, but his body had already crossed behind the falling spray.
Night Burial Sword cut once across the serpent's crown.
The wound was shallow.
Fang Lin's eyes remained calm. Scales were stronger near the head. The belly would be weaker, but the serpent protected it by staying low in the water.
He moved across three sinking platforms, each step measured. The serpent chased, striking faster each time. When the fourth platform broke beneath him, Fang Lin let his body fall for half a breath.
The serpent lunged.
Night Burial Sword turned upward.
The black blade entered beneath the jaw and tore through the softer throat. Poison blood splashed toward Fang Lin's face, but a controlled breath of Spirit Qi pushed it aside. The serpent thrashed twice, then sank into the black water.
The reward was a folded talisman wrapped in thin black thread.
Three-Breath Guard Talisman.
Its surface carried a stable defensive pattern. Once activated, it could protect the user for three breaths. Three breaths sounded short, but in a battle between Spirit Foundation cultivators, that could decide life and death.
Fang Lin stored it.
When he returned, more people were discussing rewards openly, though most kept the best details vague.
"One of mine was a talisman. It can block a direct strike once."
"I received weapon-tempering liquid. Not top grade, but better than what my sect usually gives inner disciples."
"My third reward was a body-tempering pill. If I had received this outside, I would have needed three months of contribution points."
"Then the fifth level reward will not be simple."
That last sentence made several people fall silent.
Not all news was good. One medium sect disciple who had been praised earlier failed the third level and returned with his left leg twisted at an unnatural angle. His companions carried him away while he trembled and repeated that he had admitted defeat too late. Another cultivator from a smaller clan did not return from the second level. His plaque showed Death, and his clan brother stared at the word until it vanished.
Dead cultivators received nothing.
Not even their bodies.
By the time Fang Lin entered the fourth level, the plaza had become sharper than before. The excitement over free attempts had faded. People were beginning to understand that every door was both chance and mouth.
The fourth level chamber was quiet.
The ground was pale stone, and thin black pillars stood in rows across the chamber. At the far end, a tall figure opened its eyes. It had the shape of a man, but its skin was ash-grey, and its arms were too long. A bone mask covered half its face. In its right hand was a narrow black spear.
This opponent could speak.
"Admit defeat," it said, its voice dry and rough. "Or I will nail your shadow to the floor."
Fang Lin looked at the spear. "Many people say similar things before trying."
The ash-grey figure moved.
It was fast. Much faster than the first three opponents. The spear crossed the chamber in a straight black thrust, aiming not for Fang Lin's heart, but for his thigh. It wanted to cripple movement first.
Fang Lin shifted sideways, letting the spear pass close enough to stir his robe. Night Burial Sword struck the shaft, and a sharp metallic sound rang through the chamber. The force behind the spear was heavy, but not beyond what he could handle with his shown strength.
He did not crush it.
He retreated half a step.
The ash-grey figure advanced at once, spear thrusts falling like black rain. Each strike aimed at a joint, tendon, wrist, knee, shoulder, or throat. It was not mindless. It fought like something trained to disable before killing.
Fang Lin let it attack.
He exchanged blows again and again, using Night Burial Sword openly, controlled footwork, and enough body strength to look like a strong Late Spirit Foundation rogue cultivator with an excellent weapon. He did not reveal his true speed. He did not use Frost. He did not let the Dark Bud stir.
On the twelfth exchange, the spear angled toward his left shoulder.
Fang Lin stepped inside the thrust.
The ash-grey figure's eyes changed. It tried to withdraw, but Fang Lin's palm had already pressed against the spear shaft. A controlled mountain-like pressure ran through his arm, heavy but hidden beneath ordinary body force. The spear dipped.
Night Burial Sword crossed the figure's neck.
The head fell before the body finished retreating.
The chamber became still.
Fang Lin exhaled slowly, making his breath sound slightly heavier than it truly was. If the plaza recorded his condition when he returned, there was no harm in appearing as though the fourth level had required effort.
A dark core floated down from the pale light.
It was the size of a thumb, black with faint grey veins, and carried clean darkness energy without the foul residue common in corpse beasts.
Dark Vein Beast Core.
Fang Lin's eyes moved slightly. This was useful to him. It could support darkness cultivation, dark formations, or weapon tempering, and even if he did not use it, it would trade well. The fourth level was still not a milestone, but this reward alone would make many ordinary Spirit Foundation cultivators jealous.
He stored it and returned.
The plaque above his door showed that he had passed the fourth level.
This time, more eyes turned toward him.
Passing the first level was ordinary. Passing the second proved steadiness. Passing the third showed strength. Passing the fourth without visible injury began to mean something else.
Feng Jiu'er returned several breaths later.
Her robe was slightly torn near the hem, and a faint line of blood marked the back of her hand, but her eyes were steady. Her plaque also showed that she had passed the fourth level.
Ye Qinglan returned soon after, calm and composed. Su Wanqing emerged a little later, pale but standing straight, with a thin layer of medicinal scent around her sleeve. Her plaque also showed Pass.
On the other side of Myriad Halls Plaza, Jian Wuchen, Chi Yao, Xuan Beihai, Yue Qingning, Gu Man, Ning Shuang, Luo Qianji, Su Lianxue, Kong Mingyuan, Mo Yuanli, Ji Xuechan, Lei Yunhe, and Chu Wumian had all cleared multiple levels. None of them looked fully exhausted. None of them looked as if they had used their true cards.
That was what made the plaza feel dangerous.
Everyone was advancing, yet they were still hiding their strength.
Gu Man looked at the reward in his hand and grinned. "The first four levels are already better than many sect missions. If the fifth level disappoints me, I will complain to the spirit."
Chi Yao glanced at him. "The spirit may even despise you."
Luo Qianji smiled from nearby. "The pattern is clear. The first four levels are measurement. The fifth level is where the mansion begins to separate true value from ordinary talent."
No one laughed at that.
Because everyone knew he was right.
A new light appeared above the countless doors.
This time, the jade plaques did not display a person's previous result. They showed a single line of ancient characters.
Those who have passed four levels may attempt the fifth.
The atmosphere in Myriad Halls Plaza changed at once.
The fifth level was the first greater reward.
It was also the first true wall.
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