The transition was instantaneous. As Su Ming stepped through the dark gateway of the crucible, the volcanic heat cut off completely, replaced by a dead, freezing cold. Before him lay the second trial.
It was a vast, silent expanse of gray mist, suspended over a dark, churning abyss. Across this void ran a narrow stone path, barely two feet wide. The moment Su Ming's foot touched it, the air grew incredibly thick, pressing against his temples like a dull, hot needle. The mist smelled of ancient dust, hanging motionless as if frozen.
This trial targeted the spirit, not the physique. Because of his transmigration and unhealthy usage of the lantern, Su Ming's soul was inherently damaged, carrying countless microscopic cracks that had shaved decades off his lifespan. Facing this oppressive aura with an unhealed, weakened soul sea made the pressure twice as agonizing. Every step forward sent a shudder through his soul sea, the spiritual instability threatening to trigger a massive backlash. The ambient weight felt like cold oil, seeping into his pores and dragging down his mental faculties.
From the gray depths below, a colossal shape rose. A serpentine body, easily a hundred feet long and wrapped in pale, semi-translucent scales, hovered in the air—a phantom dragon formed of ancient, condensed intent. Its golden, hollow eyes locked onto him with a cold, uncaring intelligence.
The phantom did not move to attack. Instead, it opened its jaws and let out a soul-shattering roar.
The spiritual shockwave slammed directly into Su Ming's consciousness.
*Thud.*
His vision flickered, the edges turning pitch-black as cold nausea washed over him. His heart hammered violently—not from physical strain, but from the raw, instinctual terror that a dragon's presence demanded from a lesser creature. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to drop to his knees, to crawl backward, to submit. His breathing became shallow and jagged as he fought the urge to collapse. The sheer weight of the draconic will attempted to rewrite his raw instincts, forcing him to acknowledge his own insignificance.
He knew that if he let his mind dissolve here, his consciousness would fade, and his body would walk off the path into the abyss. He could not use the Tranquil Soul Bead yet. He had to save its defensive reserves for now. He had to walk this path on his own.
The stone path spanned exactly one hundred steps, suspended over the churning fog. But this was not a simple stroll; it was a journey of gradual, agonizing adaptation. With his fragile, cracked soul, he had to take it step by step, where his physical and mental progress would grow exponentially as he acclimated.
On the first day, he took his first step, only for the silent shockwaves to instantly rattle his skull. He immediately activated his Essence Sight, attempting to analyze the composition of the dragon roars. However, the sheer complexity of the ancient, high-level dragon will was too overwhelming. His analysis failed utterly, the analytical halo sputtering out and leaving his mind in a dizzy, disoriented spin. He was forced to halt on that single step for an entire day, barely holding his ground as his soul cracks burned.
But Su Ming did not panic. For him, every day was a process of constant calculation and active adjustment. He had no need for isolated preparation time; the trial itself was his workshop.
On the second day, he tried again. Having survived the baseline shock of the first day's failure, his Essence Sight began to register the primary frequencies of the phantom dragon's roar. He understood only a fraction—barely a single thread of the Dragon Will, but it was enough to adjust his posture. Step by step, day by day, his progress accelerated.
By the fifth day, he had crossed ten steps. By the tenth day, he had reached forty steps, his speed growing exponentially as his mind became accustomed to the pattern of the roars.
Instead of fighting the pressure directly, Su Ming resolved to turn the danger into a tempering process. Under the cover of the mist, he used his Essence Sight to dissect the rules behind the roars. He gradually adapted his own spiritual energy to mimic the vibration, circulating his Yin-Yang Core in a protective, matching rhythm. He spent hours standing in the mist, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, matching the micro-vibrations of the spiritual sword Qi to the rhythm of the dragon's scream.
The dragon's roar was a manifestation of absolute domination, carrying a clean, destructive intent that aligned perfectly with his sword technique. Su Ming's sword art, the Cloud Dragon Sword Technique, also carried a dragon's name, but lacked this true, commanding presence.
Every roar that rattled his skull became a lesson, a template showing him how to project force not just physically, but spiritually. He began to imprint these spatial and acoustic vibrations into his own sword technique. Slowly, his conceptual understanding of the Cloud Dragon Sword Technique evolved. The phantom clouds in his sword forms became denser, taking on a heavier, rolling quality that almost mirrored the mist, while the dragon aspects of his sword Qi began to carry a faint, resonant hum that vibrated the air before the blade even struck.
During this process, the traits of the Primordial Yang Demon Body also provided a crucial advantage. This physical demonic transformation carried a passive aura of Yang Domination, an intense, commanding presence inherent to the demonic bloodline. Although it was currently chaotic and raw, this domineering Yang energy acted as a buffer, meeting the oppressive draconic aura with its own stubborn, unyielding weight and shielding his inner pathways from being completely overwhelmed.
By the fourteenth day, the constant, grinding pressure had forced the loose, unrefined thoughts of his mind to compress. Under the steady hammer of the roars, his deliberate resonance practice, and the passive buffer of his Yang Domination, the chaotic spiritual energy in his sea of consciousness began to align, crystallizing into a dense, sharp structure.
He was developing a pseudo Dragon's Will of his own.
Developing such a powerful, independent will was something the ancient dragon soul had not calculated. It expected the human to be worn down, its ego weakened, and prepared for easy consumption. Yet, seeing Su Ming's silent endurance, it saw only a junior of peerless, stubborn willpower. The dragon soul remained ignorant of his Insight halo and Essence Sight, assuming his success was purely the result of raw talent and absolute determination.
By the fifteenth day, Su Ming reached the end of the stone path, successfully crossing the hundredth step. The dark demonic lines mapping his skin pulsed slowly, holding the raw Yang energy in check. His face was pale, smeared with dried sweat, and his robes were damp with cold vapor.
The trial had taken a brutal toll on his fragile soul, threatening his mental clarity as the constant, high-frequency shockwaves ground down his spiritual defenses. Midway through the crossing, he had realized the danger and immediately adapted his acting, playing the role of a tired, relentless hero pushing forward on pure grit to keep the dragon soul completely off guard.
To maintain his sanity under this crushing fatigue, Su Ming relied on his Insight Halo. Pushing himself into that deeply focused, detached mental zone provided him with the necessary clarity to dissect the runic laws of the roars without his mind collapsing.
Though his eyes burned with a cold, focused light, he was running on absolute fumes. His invisible exhaustion was severe, his spiritual defense stretched thin. Yet, hidden beneath his weariness, he held his silent trump card in reserve.
The Tranquil Lotus Mantra, which he had cultivated to perfection in the past, remained circulating deep within his soul sea. He chose to let the fatigue linger on the surface, keeping the exhaustion visible for the dragon soul to see.
At the end of the path stood a massive bronze archway, its ancient green runes glowing faintly through the gray fog. Beyond it lay a chamber filled with a soft, stagnant white light.
The majestic voice of the Ancient Crimson Dragon Soul echoed through the archway, carrying a heavy, pleased satisfaction.
"To cross the Soul-Shattering Sea with nothing but your own will... young hero, you possess a mind of tempered iron. Your spirit is whole, and your willpower is worthy of being a true dragon successor. Step through the gate, and receive the final trial. If you pass, the path to the skies is yours."
Su Ming stood at the edge of the archway, his hand resting on the metal frame. He closed his eyes, letting his Yin-Yang Core slowly circulate to soothe his exhausted soul, holding the newly crystallized Dragon's Will deep within his consciousness. He made sure the newly formed intent was buried deep beneath his normal mental layers, invisible to any external inspection.
He wiped his face with his sleeve, forcing his shoulders to drop and letting his posture soften back into the naive, slightly winded junior persona he had maintained.
"This....This junior... junior thanks Senior for the guidance," Su Ming gasped, his voice trembling slightly with simulated exhaustion. "Without Senior's guidance, this junior would not have been able to temper his spirit. I will not disappoint Senior's expectations."
"Good," the dragon soul replied, its voice warm and supportive, completely hiding its real intention.
"Step forward, child. Your inheritance awaits you."
Su Ming took a deep breath, steeling his mind, and stepped through the bronze archway, disappearing into the white light.