Chapter 39 – “The Trial of Masks”

  The air grew colder as the trio stepped into the shadowed lands that bordered the Nether Abyss Sect. Unlike the vibrant energy of the Storm Horizon Sect, this place pulsed with something older, heavier. Mist clung to the cracked stones of the ancient path ahead, and twisted trees loomed on either side, their bark blackened as if scorched by unnatural fire.

  Tianming narrowed his eyes. “This is it… the outer territories.”

  Jiang Chen nodded. “Feels like walking into the mouth of a beast.”

  Lei Xueyan exhaled slowly, her blue hair billowing behind her. “Let’s hope the beast is in a good mood.”

  As they advanced, the path split near a jagged black obelisk. A group of cultivators stood ahead, their eyes turning at the newcomers’ approach. Some wore long cloaks, others bore strange markings on their skin. All of them emanated a quiet, grim energy—clearly seasoned in the darker arts.

  A tall woman stepped forward from the group. Her lips curled into a faint smile. “New blood?”

  “We seek entrance to the Nether Abyss Sect,” Tianming replied calmly.

  She tilted her head. “Then the Trial of Masks awaits.”

  Before Tianming could speak, the obelisk pulsed with dark light. A cloaked figure appeared—an elder of the Nether Abyss Sect, his face hidden behind an iron mask. His voice was like echoing steel. “Those who seek entrance must strip away illusion… and face the truths they deny.”

  A dozen black-clad sentries emerged, forming a circle around both groups.

  “You will each wear a mask,” the elder continued. “Once donned, you will be drawn into the Illusory Realm. There, your truth shall be tested.”

  Masks floated down from the obelisk, one for each cultivator. They were smooth, featureless things of bone-white porcelain. As soon as each person touched one, a brand seared onto the back of their neck—a binding mark from the sect.

  Lei Xueyan hesitated as she picked up her mask. “I don’t like this…”

  “It’s not supposed to be pleasant,” Jiang Chen muttered. “It’s a trial.”

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  Tianming felt the burn of the brand on his neck and grimaced. “Let’s get it over with.”

  The moment the mask touched their faces, reality warped.

  They stood in separate realms now—dreamscapes forged from their fears and memories.

  Lei Xueyan found herself in the ruins of her childhood home. Ashes fluttered through the sky, and a woman’s scream echoed through the empty halls.

  “No… not again.”

  The air thickened as shadowy figures formed from the ash, whispering accusations.

  You were supposed to save them.

  You’re not strong enough.

  You survived while they burned.

  She backed away, tears in her eyes. “Shut up… I did everything I could!”

  But the illusion twisted deeper. Her younger self appeared, crying in the flames.

  And still—behind all of it—a masked figure watched silently from the shadows.

  Tianming, meanwhile, was transported to a battlefield littered with corpses bearing the crest of his old clan. He stood amidst their broken bodies, every face one he knew.

  At the center stood Mu Qingfeng, laughing. “You thought you were chosen, Tianming? Even with the Celestial Jade, you’re still the boy who failed to protect anyone.”

  Tianming clenched his fists. “I’m not the same anymore.”

  But no matter how hard he tried to move, his body felt sluggish—like dragging chains of regret behind him.

  Jiang Chen was caught in a hall of mirrors. Each reflection showed a version of himself: cruel, weak, apathetic. Voices taunted him with all the ways he’d failed his comrades in the past.

  “You always play second. You were always content to be in someone else’s shadow.”

  “No,” he growled. “I’m not that man anymore.”

  He shattered one mirror after another, blood dripping from his fists.

  Back in the real world, the masked elder observed the still, motionless bodies of the trial-goers. Several had already collapsed—rejected by the illusion, consumed by their own minds.

  But Tianming’s mark burned with a different hue—golden and pulsing.

  The elder narrowed his eyes. “So it’s true. He was marked the moment he stepped into our land… the sect’s will has chosen.”

  Behind him, other elders watched silently, whispering among themselves.

  “Do we proceed?”

  “He must be tested. The will of the Nether Abyss does not choose lightly.”

  Within the illusion

  Lei Xueyan sank to her knees, face soaked in tears. But then—amid the smoke—a hand reached for her.

  It was Tianming’s voice, distant but strong. “Xueyan. Come back. You’re not alone.”

  Her eyes widened. Her pain didn’t vanish, but warmth bloomed inside her chest. She took the child-self’s hand, standing slowly.

  “I am not that helpless girl anymore.”

  The ashes faded.

  The masks shattered.

  One by one, they awoke—panting, drenched in sweat, but alive.

  The cloaked elder nodded solemnly. “You have passed the Trial of Masks. The Nether Abyss Sect acknowledges your strength.”

  The other group, however, had not all made it. Two lay unconscious—souls overwhelmed.

  As Tianming stood, he glanced at Lei Xueyan. Her expression was pale, but her eyes fierce.

  “You okay?”

  She gave a shaky smile. “Better… now.”

  The elder stepped forward again, handing them black tokens inscribed with abyssal runes.

  “Welcome, initiates.”

  But in the shadows of the trees… something was watching.

  And it had waited a long time for someone like Tianming.