Shen Tian stood still, his breathing steady. His calmness contrasted sharply with the frenzy around him. Several disciples noticed his stillness and sneered.
"He's not even moving."
"Does he think this is meditation practice?"
Someone shouted toward him.
"You! Are you here to fight or just watch?"
Shen Tian did not reply. His eyes remained half-lidded, observing, analyzing. Every movement, the angle of every strike, the hesitation in every footstep—not a single detail escaped him.
A youth holding a short sword approached Shen Tian with a cruel smile.
"You passed the first test by luck. Let's see how far luck gets you now."
Without waiting for a response, he slashed his blade toward Shen Tian's chest.
The moment steel moved, Shen Tian's Sharingan activated.
Scarlet filled his vision.
The boy's movements slowed. His sword path became obvious, almost clumsy. Shen Tian lifted his foot, stepping aside. The blade passed through empty air.
The boy's expression froze.
Shen Tian tapped the attacker's wrist. The sword flew out of his hand, spinning into the air and landing several feet away.
Gasps erupted.
"He didn't even use Qi!"
"What kind of movement is that?"
Shen Tian didn't attack further. He stood quietly as though the encounter bored him.
His opponent flushed with embarrassment.
"You dare look down on me?"
The youth roared, rushed again, and threw a punch layered with Qi. The ground cracked beneath his feet.
Shen Tian inhaled softly.
The Sharingan spun.
The punch slowed in his sight, every joint angle visible. Before the fist could reach him, Shen Tian leaned slightly, placing two fingers against the boy's elbow.
A sharp wince escaped the youth.
His arm went numb.
Shen Tian lifted his hand and pushed lightly against his shoulder.
The boy flew backward, landing on his back. Dust rose around him. Silence replaced the crowd's chatter.
Nobody moved.
It didn't look like a fight.
It looked like Shen Tian simply knew where to touch to dismantle his opponent.
Even Elder Mo narrowed his eyes.
"That technique… it resembles something beyond martial instinct."
Another disciple, angered by Shen Tian's effortless victory, charged at him with a hammer coated in Qi. Each swing could break bones, even stone.
Shen Tian's lips parted slightly.
This time, the faint ghost lines appeared again in his vision—marks showing the hammer's future path before it moved. His Sharingan pulsed, brighter than before.
He sidestepped a fraction of a second early. The hammer slammed into the arena floor, cracking the stone. Shen Tian placed his palm gently on the attacker's chest and pushed.
The man staggered backward as if struck by a heavy force he couldn't perceive.
"What is happening?"
"He's not fighting… he's dismantling people."
"It feels like he sees their movements before they happen."
Shen Tian exhaled slowly. His chakra reserves were low. His mind was sharp, but his body trembled slightly from strain.
Even so, he remained standing.
Suddenly, a strong ripple of Qi pierced the air. The arena fell silent as a tall youth walked forward. His white robes fluttered, and his gaze held pride and disdain.
It was Lu He—the spear user Shen Tian humiliated earlier, recovered and furious.
He pointed at Shen Tian.
"You. Fight me again."
Elder Mo glared at him.
"This is not your duel."
Lu He ignored the elder.
"He humiliated me. If the sect allows trash like him, then what is the meaning of strength?"
Elder Mo opened his mouth to reprimand him, but another voice cut through the air.
"Allow it."
Everyone turned.
Lin Yuhan stood at the edge of the arena, hands behind his back, expression unreadable.
"If Shen Tian truly possesses something extraordinary, let him prove it."
Lu He grinned, grabbing his spear. Qi flared around him, stronger than before.
Shen Tian stared at him quietly. He felt exhaustion creeping into his limbs.
He could escape.
He could refuse.
But then his eyes flickered.
He remembered Earth.
He remembered the weakness that chained him to a dying heart.
He remembered watching shinobi fight, wishing he could be one of them.
Now, he was.
Shen Tian lifted his head, Sharingan glowing faintly.
"I don't run from challenges."
The crowd held its breath.
Lu He smirked and stepped into the arena.
The final clash of the second trial was about to begin.
The arena fell silent as Lu He stepped forward, spear in hand. His Qi surged like a raging river, crackling faintly as it coursed through the weapon. His eyes were no longer filled with arrogance, but with something darker, heavier.
Humiliation.
In cultivation worlds, pride was more valuable than life. Losing publicly was worse than death. Shen Tian had taken that from him once. Lu He would not allow it again.
Shen Tian stood opposite him, breathing slowly. His body still ached from earlier battles. His chakra was thin, trickling weakly beneath his skin. The Sharingan, although active, felt heavy, as if demanding more energy than he could afford.
Lu He pointed his spear at him.
"This ends here. Whatever trick you used before, it won't save you now."
Shen Tian didn't reply. His silence was sharper than any insult. His eyes, calm and focused, unsettled Lu He more than taunts ever could.
Elder Mo raised his hand.
"This match will determine the outcome of Shen Tian's trial. Begin."
Lu He exploded forward.
His spear lunged with astonishing speed, its Qi-infused blade cutting through the air. The tip glowed blue, vibrating with destructive force. Even a glancing blow could shatter bone.
Shen Tian's Sharingan spun.
The spear's path slowed in his vision, every vibration visible. Ghostly prediction lines appeared, marking the future trajectory.
Shen Tian shifted sideways.
The spear missed him by a hair.
Lu He twisted and thrust again. The spear moved like a snake, unpredictable, weaving a net of steel.
Shen Tian ducked beneath it. His movements were fluid, precise, effortless—as though he was dancing through openings only he could see.
Gasps spread through the spectators.
"He's predicting the attacks."
"No, look at his eyes. He's reading them."
Lu He gritted his teeth and unleashed more Qi. The spear shuddered, growing brighter as the attack intensified.
"This time, you won't escape."
He stepped in, changing his footwork abruptly—something unpredictable even to trained cultivators.
But Shen Tian's Sharingan pulsed.
For a split second, lightning flickered across his irises. His eyes widened, and the ghost lines multiplied. He didn't just see Lu He's next movement.
He saw the movement after that.
And the one after that.
Shen Tian's body moved before Lu He's second strike began. He stepped inside the spear's reach, where long weapons became useless. Lu He's eyes widened.
Shen Tian pushed his palm gently against the spear shaft.
It was not strength that broke it.
It was precision.
The spear bent unnaturally, Qi unraveling as if cut by an invisible thread. Lu He lost balance. Shen Tian's foot tapped his ankle. Lu He fell backward, stunned.
Silence.
Shen Tian pressed his fingers lightly on Lu He's chest. The force wasn't violent, but it carried perfect timing.
Lu He flew across the arena, crashing into the ground, unable to stand.
Everyone froze.
"What technique is that?"
"He doesn't use Qi. He doesn't use martial arts."
"He just… dismantles people."
Elder Mo stared at Shen Tian's eyes. The faint lightning sparks in them were not hallucinations. Something inside those irises was changing.
Lin Yuhan whispered under his breath.
"That is no ordinary vision…"
Shen Tian's Sharingan shifted. The tomoe in each eye trembled, darkening for a moment. His breath hitched. His vision flickered.
The crowd held its breath.
Was this another evolution?
No.
Not yet.
But close.
Shen Tian felt his body reaching its limit. His legs weakened. His vision blurred. His chakra nearly vanished.
Still, he remained standing.
Lu He, trembling with defeat, stared at him wide-eyed.
"What… are you?"
Shen Tian answered without raising his voice.
"Someone you can't understand."
Elder Mo raised his arm high.
"Shen Tian… passes the second trial."
The plaza erupted. Some cheered, some whispered, some trembled. Shen Tian's name spread instantly like wildfire.
No Qi. No cultivation. No heritage. And yet, he defeated a cultivator head-on.
Shen Tian breathed heavily but kept a straight posture. His heart pounded. His eyes dimmed, reverting to normal.
He had won. But he paid a price.
He felt drained, hollow. If another fight began now, he would collapse.
Elder Mo approached him slowly, his voice softer than before.
"You possess a strange ability. Whether blessing or curse remains to be seen."
Shen Tian didn't respond. He simply looked upward, past the arena, toward the peak of Azure Cloud Sect.
His journey had only begun. But this world was already trying to measure him by standards he did not follow.
He whispered to himself, barely audible.
"I will not be defined by the heavens you believe in."
The arena floor shimmered, and the atmosphere shifted once more. The noise died down until only the wind whispered across the plaza. Every remaining candidate stood in silence, waiting for Elder Mo's announcement.
He stepped forward, his robes fluttering lightly, and surveyed the crowd.
"The third and final trial," he began, "is not about cultivation, strength, or talent. It is about resonance."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Resonance?"
"What does that mean?"
"Another weird test?"
Elder Mo gestured behind him, and disciples wheeled out several ancient stone tablets. Unlike the pillar from earlier, these ones were carved with patterns that seemed to twist and warp under the sunlight, as if hiding secrets inside the stone.
"These are Soul Tablets," Elder Mo explained. "They do not measure Qin, nor martial ability. They measure the depth of your soul, your compatibility with the Azure Cloud Sect's cultivation path. A strong soul can shake mountains. A weak one will crumble before taking a single step."
The crowd fell silent.
A soul test.
This was far more terrifying than the others. Talent could be improved. Cultivation could be learned. Combat skill could be trained.
But the soul?
If it was weak, there was no second chance.
One by one, candidates placed their hands on the tablets. Some glowed faintly, indicating weak potential. Others gave off a steady light—acceptable, but not remarkable.
Only a handful caused the tablet to pulse brightly, marking them as potential elites.
As Shen Tian waited his turn, he felt his heartbeat accelerate. His body was exhausted, but his mind was strangely calm. In his past life, he was chained by a failing heart. In this life, a strange power pulsed in his eyes, in his veins, in his very being.
He wondered.
What did the soul of someone who had crossed worlds look like?
Elder Mo's gaze swept across the remaining candidates.
"Shen Tian."
A hush fell over the plaza.
Shen Tian walked forward. The stone tablet before him was different from the others. It was darker, older, as though it had existed before the sect itself. Strange symbols writhed upon it, faintly trembling.
A few elders exchanged worried glances.
"That tablet… shouldn't he use a normal one?"
"It's too late to change."
"Let us see what happens."
Shen Tian placed his palm upon the stone.
The moment he touched it, his body trembled. A strange chill crawled up his spine. The world blurred. His surroundings dissolved, as if he had stepped through reality.
He stood in darkness.
A voice spoke inside his mind.
"What do you seek?"
Shen Tian's heart steadied. His Sharingan flickered.
He answered without hesitation.
"Freedom."