Chapter 3: The Inner Sect Trial, Pressure Ignored

The raucous energy on the Training Ground didn’t fade with the glow of the Sect Master’s jade slip; if anything, the silence that followed felt like a pressure building toward a storm. The air turned into something thick and gelatinous, making every breath feel heavy and labored.

Shen Qinghe stood in the center of the crowd, her aura radiating a lazy, scattered indifference. It was as if the news that she had been specially exempted from the standard trials and allowed to directly participate in the Secret Realm selection had nothing to do with her at all, but was just some piece of trivial gossip floating through the wind.

She didn’t even have the energy to deal with the envious or awestruck gazes surrounding her. Instead, she boredly picked at the tassels on her sleeve, her fingers moving slowly, as if she were stroking a sleeping spirit snake. The faint whisper of each thread cutting through the air sounded like a footnote to the cold indifference in her heart.

From the shadows in the corner of the high platform, Liu Ruyan stared intensely at this back of hers. Her nails dug deep into her palms, blood beads seeping out and dripping silently before she quickly wiped them away. A mask of extreme piety curved her lips, and she whispered, her voice light but carrying a bone-chilling coldness.

Shen Qinghe: "The Sect Master’s special approval looks like a favor, but in reality, it’s hanging the face of all us Inner Gate disciples on the back of this 'waste.' Interesting."

Liu Ruyan: "Junior Sister Qinghe, your aptitude is mediocre. Why do you need to act so high and mighty? This Illusion Array assessment will surely wash away the stain on your name."

Faced with this veiled jab from Liu Ruyan, Shen Qinghe didn’t turn around. She just lazily tilted her head to the side, a half-smile playing on her lips. She knew Liu Ruyan was testing her, and she knew this Senior Sister had long since decided her life or death didn’t matter to her. However, she wasn’t in a rush to respond, because the real games often start in silence.

Lu Xiaoman hid at the back of the crowd, chewing on a stolen spirit grass root she’d pilfered. Her cheeks puffed out, her eyes darting around nervously. Seeing her young mistress stand there as if the earth collapsing before her eyes wouldn’t make her blink, Lu Xiaoman sighed in her heart, thinking that this time her mistress was really going to stir up the whole sect, and that even her usual attempt at hiding her sharp edges was falling apart.

She secretly swallowed the grass root, scanning the surroundings warily, half expecting a fight to break out any second.

The senior examiner was a stern-faced old man named Zhao Wuji, the Deputy Peak Master of Formation Peak. He arrived with a cold demeanor, giving the disciples present zero chance to ask for explanations. With a wave of his hand, a gray, murky barrier enveloped the entire Training Ground, activating the forbidden illusion array known as the Mystic Soul-Luring Array.

The air instantly filled with a suffocating mist. The clear outlines of heaven and earth twisted and distorted instantly, as if countless eyes were watching from the dark. Zhao Wuji’s voice was icy, echoing through the center of the square: "This array was deduced jointly by three Elders. Ordinary Inner Gate disciples need to struggle for a month just to grasp its basics.

For today’s assessment, only those who can find the array’s eye within half an hour will advance."

The mist surged up suddenly. The other disciples panicked, falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs, their cries rising one after another. Liu Ruyan, however, put on a look of fragility, clutching her chest and pretending to be unwell, while secretly channeling a sinister secret technique within her body.

Her carefully placed curse didn’t strike the surface; instead, it turned into invisible threads, following the veins of the illusion array, quietly wrapping around Shen Qinghe’s ankles. It was an incredibly vicious "let others kill you" setup. If Shen Qinghe got hit, she would prove she was a "trash" on her own; if she didn’t, she’d be accused of cheating, and couldn’t stay clear of the mess either way.

Shen Qinghe leaned against a withered tree on the edge of the array, her posture still lazy, not moving an inch. Lu Xiaoman crept closer and whispered, "Young Mistress, things are getting a bit loud on Liu Ruyan’s side. Should you maybe dial back the sharpness a little so you don’t bring trouble on yourself?"

Shen Qinghe shook her head lightly. Her gaze cut through the mist, as if she could see right through the layers of fog to the essence of things. She wasn’t afraid of this forbidden illusion array; in fact, she found it stiff, artificial, and riddled with holes.

Just as Liu Ruyan’s curse power was about to touch Shen Qinghe’s ankle, Shen Qinghe’s pupils contracted slightly. In her vision, golden patterns rippled like water. This was the Weakness Manifestation ability of the Formation-Breaking Talisman working on autopilot. In just three breaths, the logical loopholes in the underlying structure of the entire maze appeared clearly to her.

It turned out that when the three Elders deduced this array, they had deliberately omitted the final layer of causal entanglement calculation to save on spiritual power. This caused a huge logical break at the array’s eye. This break was the weakest point of the entire maze, and the shortcut to the optimal solution.

Shen Qinghe’s fingertip tapped lightly. She didn’t directly dismantle the whole array; instead, she forcibly twisted the causal flow of that curse power. In her eyes, the curse was no longer a restraint, but a bomb waiting to be detonated. Holding a tiny array hub she had just condensed from the ambient spiritual power between her fingers, she flicked it toward Liu Ruyan.

The movement flowed like water, ghostly and perfect, with not a shred of excess force spilling out. It precisely cut the causal link between the curse and Shen Qinghe, and redirected the power back to its source, intact.

"Snap."

The crisp sound rang out harshly in the mist. Liu Ruyan’s face turned pale. Runes flickered chaotically across her body as she collapsed in pain, a mouthful of black blood spilling from her lips. The rebounded curse power rampaged through her meridians, leaving her with almost no control over her own body.

Examiner Zhao Wuji looked up in shock, terrified to realize that Shen Qinghe hadn’t moved an inch, yet had somehow shed all the negative suppression on her own. The whisk in his hand trembled slightly, and his eyes were filled with disbelief.

Shen Qinghe walked slowly into the array’s eye, ignoring the blockage of spiritual power caused by rank suppression. Her gaze swept the area, directly mapping out the shortest path to pass. It was a nearly straight-line trajectory, defying all conventional logic of array operations.

In just three breaths, she walked out of the maze that had driven everyone to despair. Holding the complete array eye core between her fingers, she casually tossed it to Zhao Wuji, who stood there with his mouth agape. The core’s structure was perfect, far exceeding the limits recorded in ancient texts. It looked like a exquisite artifact from the immortal realm.

Zhao Wuji trembled as he caught the core, a chill running down his spine. He looked at the core, then at Shen Qinghe, who remained as calm as ever, and waves of anxiety crashed through his mind. He decided to keep this secret to save the sect’s face, but a deep fear had already taken root in his eyes. He asked in a low voice: "Shen Qinghe, this array took three months to deduce. How could you see through the whole picture in three breaths? Who is your master?"

Shen Qinghe retracted her smile and answered flatly, "I just saw through the lies." She turned and left, leaving Lu Xiaoman standing there, disheveled in the wind, complaining that her young mistress had no respect for the rules. The mist gradually cleared, and light returned to the Training Ground, but the oppressive atmosphere grew even thicker. Liu Ruyan lay on the ground, her eyes filled with venomous resentment, vowing to make Shen Qinghe pay the price.

But Shen Qinghe had already left this noisy place, heading into the deeper unknown.

The night wind carried the residual heat from the Training Ground. Shen Qinghe didn’t return to her quarters; instead, she went straight to the library deep within the sect. The air here was filled with the smell of old paper and spirit ink—a scent that spoke of time settled and distilled.

She didn’t rush to find a way to break things, because in her eyes, the layers of text had already turned into transparent streams of data. Only at the breaks in the underlying logic did dazzling white light appear.

Zhao Wuji’s figure appeared silently in the shadows of the long corridor. He didn’t speak, just followed her. Every step was so light it was like an old cat lurking in the dark.

Shen Qinghe sensed that familiar oppressive aura. She didn’t stop walking; in fact, when she passed a mottled stone pillar, she deliberately paused for a moment. Her fingertip lightly traced a subtle, unassuming engraving on the pillar’s surface. The engraving wasn’t a sect symbol; it was a twisted, ancient sign. It looked like a closed eye, or a line of erased initials.

Zhao Wuji’s eyes narrowed sharply. He had seen that symbol before, only in the sealed Ancient Dao Code Fragments in the forbidden zones. It was said to be the mark of Venerable Wujie, a figure rumored to have perished ten thousand years ago. All related knowledge was listed as taboo.

Alarm bells rang in his heart. If Shen Qinghe knew about this thing, it meant her background was far more terrifying than it appeared on the surface, possibly intertwined with the great powers who had long since disappeared into the river of history.

Shen Qinghe continued forward, her voice cold, as if speaking to the air: "Examiner Zhao, what are you following me for?"

Zhao Wuji froze, then emerged from the shadows, his face so gloomy it could wring out water. "I noticed your aura wasn’t stable. I came to see if anything was overlooked."

"Overlooked?" Shen Qinghe let out a cold laugh, pointing to the entrance of the Sutra Pavilion’s private chamber ahead. "Like this? I finished the deduction in three breaths. Inside, it stores the handbooks of past Sect Masters. But based on the inertia of the spiritual power flow, the chamber’s mechanisms will automatically reset within three breaths of you entering.

If you move now, you won’t get the items, and you’ll trigger a backlash that severely damages your meridians. This is the optimal solution, Zhao Wuji. You can’t be that bad at calculating the odds, right?"

Zhao Wuji’s pupils shrunk. He had indeed calculated the risk, but he never imagined the opponent would point out his blind spots so directly and declare victory in such a casual tone. This wasn’t just an understanding of arrays; it was absolute control over human nature and the environment. He subconsciously stepped back half a pace, his grip on the whisk tight, his knuckles white.

He began to suspect that a super-existence, one not yet recognized by heaven and earth, stood behind Shen Qinghe. Otherwise, where did a newly initiated disciple get such heaven-piercing insight?

The two stood off for a moment. The spiritual pressure in the air fluctuated, and the dust around them seemed to stop in mid-air. Finally, Zhao Wuji took a deep breath, forcing down the chaotic thoughts swirling in his heart. He clasped his fists in a salute, his voice hoarse: "Miss Shen’s talent is extraordinary. This Zhao... is impressed." With that, he actually turned and left, his retreating figure looking somewhat frantic.

Shen Qinghe watched his back disappear around the corner. There was no smugness in her eyes, only a cold, clear awareness. She pushed open the door to the Sutra Pavilion’s private chamber. It was empty, only the air vibrating slightly.

She tapped her finger lightly; ripples spread in the void, and rows of small light symbols appeared and disappeared. This was hidden information she had just stolen from the gaps in space, using Zhao Wuji’s "hesitation" and "fear."

Just at this moment, a bone-chilling gaze pierced through layer upon layer of spatial barriers, locking precisely onto Shen Qinghe’s neck. That gaze came from a place very high and very far, as if it had broken through the sect’s multiple prohibitions to stare at her directly.

Shen Qinghe’s body hair stood on end. She slowly turned around, looking at the moon obscured by black clouds outside the window, and whispered softly: "Looks like someone knows the meaning of the 'Wujie' mark."

At the same time, deep in the forbidden area on the Back Mountain of the sect, a ghostly green soul lamp extinguished itself without a breeze, turning into a凄厉 shriek that dissipated into the night.