As Timo Yang scanned the devastation, the air above a nearby depression twisted and warped. A rippling portal of energy took shape.

  From within emerged a figure identical to him—face shifting from grotesque malice to beaming joy.

  The disturbance snapped Timo fully awake. This portal felt far more sinister than the one five years ago—chilling, almost malevolent.

  “Master… I think I see the Trial Realm.”

  Yan Tang’s eyes widened at the misty words. He had never witnessed—never even heard—of anyone reaching the Envoy stage at seventeen or eighteen.

  The memories of his own Envoy trial remained vivid. Loved ones, trusted allies—all had betrayed him, killing him again and again.

  No one understood the realm’s rules, but every essence cultivator knew the force behind it saw all. Once entered, there was no retreat.

  Yan Tang had been trapped three years. All believed him dead until he broke free.

  That terror had driven him to teach Timo through the Five Elements Game, forging resilience. Yet this day had come far sooner than expected.

  In ordinary circumstances, locating the realm’s eye alone would take time. Here, with essence so abundant, he had no choice.

  Mist formed a single word: “Enter.”

  Timo eyed the strangely shaped portal, hesitated—then stepped through.

  The moment he crossed, he merged with his double. The world spun; stars shifted. Consciousness fled.

  When Timo awoke, it felt as though he had slept for ages. The corpse-strewn battlefield seemed a fading nightmare.

  Fresh air filled his lungs. His fingers brushed golden silk blankets. Above, the ceiling bloomed with vivid painted stars.

  He bolted upright. He had been on the battlefield moments ago—yet that memory blurred. One hand clutched pristine white silk sleepwear; the other felt the trembling bedframe.

  “This bed… incredible. I’ve never worn clothes like these—so soft. Where am I?”

  Eyes wide, he swung his legs over the side, marveling at delicate ceramic vases, ornate hangings, wall paintings.

  “Isn’t this a map of Liancang Capital?”

  Sunrise light filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows draped in water-blue curtains.

  From the height, the entire port city spread below—coastline curving like a masterpiece painting.

  Morning’s first rays bathed the royal palace.

  “Young Master, it is time for your meal.”

  A woman’s gentle voice sounded outside. Shadows moved beyond the door.

  “Come in.”

  Timo cleared his throat. Carved wooden doors opened. Seven graceful beauties entered—each movement radiating elegance.

  Timo, in the flush of youth, had never beheld such women. Their fluttering glances and soft demeanor set his heart racing.

  Flustered, he dove back under the covers.

  “Young Master—are you unwell today?”

  One approached—the most beautiful, somehow familiar.

  Timo’s face burned crimson. Hunger gnawed, but embarrassment rooted him.

  “Set… set it down. All of you—out.”

  The women hid smiles behind sleeves, curtsied, and withdrew. Only the leader in cyan robes remained.

  “Allow me to dress you, Young Master.”

  Timo waved frantically, keeping her at bay.

  “Young Master… I have always dressed you. Do you… tire of Lulu today?”

  Her hurt expression pierced him, yet he dared not rise.

  “No—I… I’m not feeling well.”

  Lulu stepped closer. Timo froze.

  Her hand touched his shoulder.

  Malice flashed in her eyes. A long blade plunged mercilessly through his chest.

  Cold steel. Shock replaced shyness—then despair. Before words formed, Lulu transformed into a humanoid sea demon, fanged maw descending.

  Timo died on the warm bed.

  The world spun again. He jolted awake as from a nightmare.

  Chest heaving, he clutched his heart—then his head, recalling the tearing.

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  “Calm,” he whispered, eyes shut. “Master said the Envoy trial tests truth from illusion. Trust no one. The key is desirelessness.”

  Yet soft voices called from beyond the door—tender, coaxing. His heart stirred against his will.

  “What did Master mean by love? I have no family, no children. I don’t even remember my parents. Power… sigh. What now?”

  He ignored the repeated calls.

  From his first death, he knew failure meant endless repetition. Lose himself, and he might trap here for years—like Master.

  “Right… leave. Master said men resist desire with cold baths, fists, training…”

  He rose, crossed to the windows. Gazing at the distant sea, he pushed them open, summoned wind essence, and leaped without hesitation.

  The women rushed in at the noise—only to gasp in surprise and admiration.

  Timo bounded across rooftops, plunging into the chill sea. Cold water doused youthful fire.

  Using techniques Feiyu had taught, he speared two large fish.

  “Young Master—still so playful. Today is your coronation. His Majesty awaits.”

  An elder in brown robes emerged from a spatial rift.

  “Master?”

  Timo’s excitement surged—until the man bowed low in confusion.

  “This old servant—how dare I claim to be your master? Your true teacher is the Grand Master of the Spirit Taming Cult.”

  “You once called the Spirit Taming Cult Evil Cultivators.”

  Timo probed warily.

  “Young Master jests. This servant wishes to live longer. Mercy!”

  “Fine—kidding. You don’t look like him anyway. Grill these fish for me.”

  Fire essence flared in the elder’s hand. In moments, the fish were perfectly seared—crisp outside, tender within.

  “Satisfactory, Young Master?”

  Timo tore into one. The flavor matched Yan Tang’s exactly.

  “Identical skill… Does the realm’s creator truly see everything?”

  The elder relaxed as Timo devoured the meal.

  “Might I ask—did the beauties Lulu brought this morning please you?”

  “What beauties?” Timo recalled the stabbing—the hidden killer in Lulu’s form. He paused, feigning calm.

  “The day of ascension has always carried the duty to sow the dragon vein—a sacred mission for every heir to the throne.”

  The old servant spoke with stern reverence.

  “Sow the dragon vein? What does that mean?” Timo asked, mouth full of fish, his innocent mind slow to grasp.

  “The union of man and woman. Continuing the bloodline. Every Young Master, on coronation day, honors this rite.”

  Timo let out a long sigh. No matter how he turned it, this felt like a trap—designed to make him yield. A mischievous grin crept across his face.

  “I don’t want heirs. I don’t want the throne. I just want to leave.”

  “Liancang Capital is your home, Young Master. Where else would you go?”

  Timo burst into laughter, gasping for breath. “You’re all illusions.”

  “Does the Young Master find these princesses from neighboring realms… insufficiently beautiful?”

  “They’re beautiful,” Timo admitted casually. “But dangerous.”

  “To secure the throne, these princesses are ideal alliances—noble blood, unmatched influence. Beauty and supreme power… do you truly desire neither?” The servant seemed genuinely baffled.

  Timo blinked, wide-eyed and guileless. It wasn’t that he rejected them—he simply didn’t understand love or power.

  “No. I want to pass the trial. Grow stronger. Tell me—is there a harder test than those two?”

  The old servant stroked his beard, gazing skyward.

  “To refuse beauty and power… the only greater trial is to become an immortal, indestructible god.”

  “Then I’ll become a god. I’ll defeat the Lord of the Black Sea. Crush the Evil Cultivators. Vanquish every sea demon.”

  The moment the words left his lips, winds howled. Clouds boiled overhead; the sea raged.

  Waves converged into a colossal water giant rising from the depths.

  “Insolent mortal—dare to claim godhood? You must first defeat me.”

  “Who are you? Stop pretending!” Timo sneered.

  “I am the Water God. Seek to usurp me—and I will take everything from you.”

  The giant’s voice rolled like crashing surf. It raised a hand; the sea churned. Towering waves surged.

  Alarms clanged along the shore, panic erupting.

  “The Water God is enraged!”

  “Offer sacrifices—quickly!”

  Fishermen hurled cattle and sheep into the waves.

  Timo summoned water essence, but the tidal fury shrugged it off.

  “Young Master—kneel and repent! Only then might the capital be spared.”

  The servant pleaded. Timo refused.

  The old man fell to his knees. “Great Water God—spare us! My Young Master is young and foolish. Have mercy on these mortal flesh!”

  Timo straightened defiantly at the sight.

  “I won’t believe it. None of this is real.”

  The Water God swelled larger.

  Lightning cracked; thunder roared. Timo stood unbowed against the onslaught.

  “Today—I destroy everything.”

  The giant merged with the waves. A wall of water reared skyward, blotting out the sun.

  “He is unworthy to be our king—kill him!”

  Spears and essence blades flew from the shore.

  Timo dodged effortlessly, summoning powerful white wind and water essence.

  “Kill him!”

  “He dares deicide!”

  “He is utterly evil!”

  The crowd’s fury swelled.

  “I refuse to believe!”

  Timo struck the wave—carving only a fleeting hole before it sealed.

  He darted through gaps, powerless against the force.

  “Perish…”

  Higher waves rose like endless barriers, crashing down.

  In moments, all was swallowed. Watery hands seized every soul, drowning them.

  “It’s over… all lost…”

  The servant’s final words vanished in the flood. Timo raced to the palace heights. Turning back, the beautiful capital became an ocean grave.

  The water giant reformed before the window. A roar—and a tsunami devoured the palace. Tendrils dragged Timo into the abyss until breath failed.

  “A mortal—challenge a god? Hah…”

  The hollow voice echoed as consciousness faded. The world spun.

  Timo found himself in a vast white void, wrapped in energy. The Devouring Spirit Heart pulsed crimson, suppressing his memories.

  He approached his physical body—ethereal, without substance.

  “I saw myself… what’s happening?”

  “You wish to become a god?”

  Timo searched for the voice.

  “Yes… yes! Who are you?”

  “I am the Realm Breaker—guide to the Envoy stage. I am the trial; the trial is me.”

  “Realm Breaker? Never heard of it…”

  “How could a mortal know me? You intrigue me, human child. Humans have order; we have ours.”

  “So there are many Realm Breakers?”

  Laughter echoed. “You might say so. Truly ignorant, yet… you needed only overcome lust and greed—find an essence cultivator’s true calling—to breakthrough. But…”

  “But what?”

  “You seek godhood. Simple: kill yourself, and you become a god.”

  Darkness flooded the space. Black energy seeped into his body.

  “Kill myself? I’d be mad.”

  Memory suppressed or not—he wasn’t a fool. Suicide meant true death.

  “Stay here and live—or leave and live. What difference? You wanted godhood.”

  “Of course there’s a difference. I must survive—get Master and my brother off that island. I… I have vital things to do!”

  “Not a fool after all. Your memories are sealed—that’s why you feel no pain, no struggle. That force binds you; you cannot break through while it holds. I will draw it out. Destroy it.”

  The Devouring Spirit Heart flared crimson, manifesting as a red spirit form.

  “Don’t leave me!”

  His body muttered senselessly as the entity detached.

  “This parasite controls you. To reclaim your channels—subdue it.”

  Spirit-Timo unleashed wind blades. The red form did not dodge.

  “You’ll regret abandoning me.”

  It spoke in a woman’s gentle voice. His body whimpered, “No…”

  “One who seeks godhood is deemed arrogant. Divine power razes heaven and earth—how could a mere boy harbor such ambition? I must see your memories.”

  Timo hesitated. The red force weakened under the Realm Breaker’s pressure. The heart stilled; the spirit was drawn back.

  Suddenly his mind quaked—cracking, mending. Pain wracked him; sweat poured.

  Suppressed memories flooded like dreams: every buried moment awakening.

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