The moment Li Yi was consumed by the darkness, the world ceased to obey any known rule.
There was no ground, no sky, no direction—only infinite black speckled with shifting stars, as though the entire universe had folded itself inward. Yet within that void, Li Yi felt everything—gravity, time, his heartbeat, and even the essence of his Chaos Core.
He floated, or perhaps fell, for what felt like an eternity. Then a voice—not from outside but from deep within—whispered:
> "Awaken your truth."
The darkness shattered.
He landed, not on stone or soil, but on a platform made entirely of memory—a translucent disc suspended in space, constructed of moments, emotions, battles, and regrets. Scenes flickered beneath his feet: his first breath after reincarnation, the day his mother wept under the moonlight, the first drop of blood he ever shed in a duel.
Then the space around him solidified into form.
He stood in the middle of a colossal astral arena, its domed ceiling twinkling like the starry sky, though they were no stars. They were watchers—conscious, ancient beings observing him with unreadable intent. Spectral structures hovered in the void beyond: broken towers, floating temples, and the remnants of ancient battles frozen mid-explosion.
A being descended from the void.
It was not the same hooded echo from before. This one bore form—six arms, each holding a different weapon: a spear of fire, a sword of silence, a shield of ice, a hammer made of shifting stone, a scythe of wind, and a whip of golden light. Its face was obscured behind a mask of glass, showing glimpses of countless identities.
> "First trial," it boomed. "Reforging of the Self."
Suddenly, Li Yi felt his cultivation base shatter.
His Chaos Core ruptured. Qi fled his meridians. His divine sense collapsed like sand in wind.
He gasped, falling to one knee, his entire foundation ripped away.
The entity spoke again. "To forge anew, one must break what was. You are nothing now. Begin again… if you can."
Pain gripped him.
Not physical—but spiritual, conceptual. His identity fragmented, memories blurred, and names faded. He could barely recall who he was. Only a flicker remained: a boy abandoned by stars, a promise unkept, and a fire that refused to die.
He grit his teeth.
> "I am Li Yi."
The void trembled.
A single speck of Qi reappeared in his dantian. It was not chaotic. It was pure.
From that single speck, he rebuilt.
---
Seven hours passed.
Li Yi sat cross-legged in the center of the astral arena, forging his foundation anew. He did not rebuild the Chaos Core as it was. Instead, he constructed a new Primal Chaos Core—more refined, more stable, attuned to the pulse of ancient cultivation laws.
Each breath he took resonated with the arena itself. Streams of Qi poured from the void into his body, refined into shining strands of cultivation energy. With each cycle, his meridians repaired, then strengthened, then evolved.
His realm surged forward.
> Body Tempering – complete
Meridian Awakening – complete
Qi Foundation – complete
Core Formation – complete
Nascent Soul – complete
Ascendant Soul – complete
Nascent Chaos Realm – Late Stage
But he didn't stop there.
A halo formed behind him, swirling with colors unseen in the mortal realm. Stars spun within it—his own World Core, an embryonic domain born from Chaos itself.
The entity descended again.
This time, it knelt.
> "You have surpassed the expectation of the first trial. Your foundation is no longer borrowed. It is yours. Take this mark."
A sigil burned itself into Li Yi's palm—a six-pointed star cradling a yin-yang sphere, surrounded by five rotating runes.
> "You have been marked by the Trial of Origin. One step closer to unlocking the path between realms."
The arena faded.
---
Li Yi found himself in a desert next.
The sun was crimson. The air was heavy, laced with divine pressure. He stood upon endless red sand dunes, and before him was a wall—a monolithic structure so tall it split the sky. Upon it were a thousand weapons impaled into its surface.
A woman stood before it, wearing robes woven from starlight. Her eyes were closed, her hair drifted unnaturally, as though underwater. She held a single white lotus in her hand.
> "Second trial," she said. "Trial of Conviction."
She pointed to the wall.
> "You must choose a weapon. But beware. Each one carries the intent of the soul who wielded it. Only one will resonate with your truth. Choose wrongly… and you will cease to exist."
Li Yi stared at the wall.
There were spears, daggers, chains, glaives, halberds, bows, even relics he could not recognize—artifacts of lost civilizations, each humming with a history too vast to comprehend.
He began to climb.
Each step drew blood from his feet, the wall resisting his approach. The higher he climbed, the heavier the pressure grew, crushing his bones, suffocating his lungs.
At one point, he paused before a curved obsidian blade glowing with lightning.
> "No," he muttered. "Too cruel."
He moved past a bow made of silver branches.
> "Too distant."
A spear of heavenly fire.
> "Too righteous."
And then, near the very top, he found a blade forged from shifting mist—formless, for it took the shape of the will of its user. It pulsed not with power but with potential.
He placed his hand on it.
A vision exploded in his mind.
He stood in countless forms—warrior, scholar, king, beggar, beast, god. All versions of himself, across infinite possibilities. And through it all, one thing remained:
His resolve.
His will to protect. To grow. To rise.
He took the blade.
The wall shattered.
The woman below bowed her head. "You have chosen not strength, but adaptability. You are ready for the third trial."
---
The world changed again.
Li Yi found himself in a garden of eternal night, surrounded by glowing flowers and flowing streams of moonlight. In the center sat an old man in plain robes, sipping tea beneath a willow tree.
> "Sit," the old man said.
Li Yi obeyed.
The tea was bitter. Too bitter.
The old man chuckled. "This is the Trial of Insight. Your final task. You must answer my question. Fail… and your mind will be broken. You will wander this place forever."
Li Yi's eyes narrowed. "Ask."
The old man smiled. "What is the true purpose of cultivation?"
Li Yi blinked. That was it?
He began listing possible answers.
> "To gain strength?" "To seek immortality?" "To transcend?"
The old man only sipped his tea.
None of them were correct.
Li Yi frowned.
He closed his eyes.
He thought of his mother's tearful goodbye. Of the Li family branch in the Xuan Realm. Of Mo Ruyan's scars, Xue Lian's laughter, Lan Qing'er's quiet wisdom. Of the Void Heir. Of the Abyssal Demons.
He thought of the millions of people in lower realms living in fear and darkness.
And he opened his eyes.
> "The true purpose of cultivation…" he said slowly, "is to reclaim what was lost. To remember what it means to be whole."
The old man froze.
Then smiled.
The garden vanished.
---
Li Yi stood once again in the Ecliptic Gate Chamber, the trial complete.
Power surged within him. His cultivation had stabilized at Nascent Chaos Realm – Peak Stage, and his foundation was so refined it could rival early-stage Immortal Ascension cultivators.
But more importantly, he understood.
These trials had not only reshaped his strength—they had reshaped his will.
From outside the chamber, footsteps echoed.
His companions ran toward him, panic in their eyes.
"The Void Heir has appeared," Lan Qing'er said breathlessly. "In the southern reaches of the Soultear Plains. He's already begun absorbing minor realms."
"And worse," Mo Ruyan added, "the Abyssal Cult has begun to move. Rumors say they've found a crack in the seal between the Upper Realm and the God Realm."
Li Yi looked up at the sky.
The stars had shifted position slightly.
War was coming.
And he would be ready.
---
End of Chapter 32