With a sharp cry that cut through the air, a majestic chariot pulled by two exquisite Spring Forest Deer soared into view above the arena.
The entire space fell into silence—not because of the grand arrival, but because of the person within the chariot: one of the most renowned women in the entire lower realm.
Though her age and cultivation realm didn't align with the younger generation, and while she wasn't the most innately gifted among the great beauties of her era, everyone knew the truth—Lady Qinru had earned her place. Through sheer resilience and tireless effort, she had risen to become the Grand Elder of the Springwater Sect.
Many of the women of her generation had either perished with time or ascended to higher realms, but Lady Qinru remained—one of the few who still stood on the verge of ascension. Some even claimed she was already stronger than most Saints in the upper realm, despite still being in the Transcending Realm.
There was a saying whispered among cultivators:
"Once her mission in the lower realm is complete, she will ascend without looking back."
The arena was silent, but the people weren't. Low murmurs echoed, some cultivators communicated through sound transmission while mortals whispered in awe.
Chu Ying listened in, thoughtful.
"So this is Lady Qinru… As expected, she's the idol of many, especially the men."
She glanced at the crowd. Many male cultivators stared intensely at the chariot's entrance—not out of reverence, but with burning desire. Their gazes sought more than presence; they sought curves and skin.
Moments later, Lady Qinru stepped out of the chariot and descended gracefully through the air, walking on invisible steps toward her throne.
Eyes from below locked onto her every movement, hoping to catch a glimpse beneath her flowing robes—as if her beauty alone might bless them.
But Lady Qinru knew the lust behind those hungry gazes. A thin veil covered her face, shielding her expression and mystique.
She reached her floating seat and sat down with elegance. Without flourish, she spoke a single word:
"Commence."
The inner disciples immediately began their duties. They activated a barrier that encompassed the entire arena, shielding it from interference while still allowing onlookers to watch from behind the protective screen.
Soon, a team of disciples surrounded the participants and began forming hand seals in tandem, weaving an intricate formation beneath their feet.
Most mortals in the audience could only watch in confusion, while higher-level cultivators squinted, trying to discern the nature of the technique.
Whispers followed:
"What are they doing?"
"Will my son be okay in there?"
"They've blocked even our senses—how will I see my daughter perform?"
Worry, frustration, and fear rippled through the crowd.
Chu Ying furrowed her brows slightly. Though she couldn't identify the exact formation, her instincts told her it was a mental trial—an internal test of will.
Inside the shield, the participants felt themselves being pulled into a different world.
Each one had been thrown into their own dream realm.
Some cultivators trembled, their faces pale. Cold sweat poured from their brows, and many collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
"What's happening to them?"
"Why are they suddenly falling?!"
Even Chu Ying was taken aback.
"An illusion?" she guessed.
Beside her, Jiang Mu leaned over and said calmly, "They've entered dream realms... facing their greatest fear. The deepest horrors in their hearts. Those who collapse are the ones who can't overcome it. That means—they're unfit for the sect."
The people around heard him. Some looked at him with awe, trying to discern if he spoke the truth or was simply speculating.
Then a rough voice broke the tension.
"Hey girl, who the hell do you think you are? Quit pretending to be smart. No one's buying your nonsense, you bitch!"
Jiang Mu turned slowly. His eyes flared with rage. Without hesitation, he drew a blade from his storage ring, and his killing intent surged like a storm.
"You bastard! Who's the bitch here?" he roared. "Look at me—look carefully!"
He pointed at his flat chest and thrust the blade toward the man's neck.
"You want to die that badly?! I'll personally behead you!"
Just as he was about to slash down, a soft but firm hand grabbed his wrist.
"Master Jiang, stop!" Chu Ying whispered urgently. "Don't do something reckless here. If the Springwater Sect finds out you're creating trouble, things could get messy."
Her voice softened. "Please... control yourself."
Hearing her plead, Jiang Mu's breathing slowed. The fury in his eyes dimmed, replaced by his usual calm. But he wasn't finished.
He grabbed the man by the collar and slapped him—twice, hard.
"Listen carefully," he said coldly. "If what I said turns out false, you can slap me four times in return."
Then he turned away, ignoring the stunned stares, and focused back on the arena.
Moments later, all the standing participants began to stir. One by one, they opened their eyes.
Those who had fallen were lifted and gently removed by an invisible force. The announcer's voice rang out:
"Those who are standing with open eyes may proceed to the next round. Those who fell… or who are still trapped, are eliminated."
Gasps. Murmurs.
The man who had cursed Jiang Mu turned pale—humiliated, exposed. His face looked like he had swallowed dung in public.
All pride gone, he fell at Jiang Mu's feet and began crying.
"Master... no, Lord! Please forgive me. I am nothing—just a mosquito crawling in the gutter. I didn't know your greatness!"
"I can serve you—I can even sacrifice my body if you desire!"
The last sentence was too much.
Jiang Mu's face twisted in disgust, and he kicked the man away.
Even Chu Ying couldn't help laughing softly at the pathetic display.
Now I see, just how much Jiang Mu had been holding back.
She quickly grabbed his sleeve. "Master Jiang, Master Jiang, enough. He's just a pitiful fool. Let's focus on the next test."
Jiang Mu finally turned to her, and the man took the opportunity to scurry away into the crowd, afraid to tempt his fate again.
"Okay, Master Jiang," Chu Ying said soothingly. "Forget about them. They don't know your strength. Just sit and enjoy the event."
The surrounding crowd gave them a wide berth. No one wanted to be the next target. These were low-level cultivators from small sects. Even their own elders wouldn't defend them against Jiang Mu now.
All eyes now turned back toward the arena.
Everyone held their breath, waiting to see—
What kind of test would come next?