Silence lingered for a few moments after Bhima Shi's awakening.
Gradually, the agitation faded.
At the top of the altar, the officiant took a deep breath before regaining his composure. His voice once again echoed across the entire plaza.
"Next!"
Immediately, every gaze turned toward the heirs still gathered at the foot of the steps.
Only six remained: Xuan Ling, Feng Yue, Mo Chen, Hai Lan, Yan Rui… and, at the end of the line, Wang Chen.
The true talents of the Hidden Village were about to reveal themselves one after another.
In the stands, murmurs began to spread again.
"After an Asura… I wonder what the others will show."
"This generation is truly abnormal…"
"Perhaps another ancestral inheritance will appear…"
At the foot of the altar, Xuan Ling stepped forward and walked toward the stairs.
His face was expressionless, almost cold, as if the crowd's agitation did not affect him in the slightest. His steps were calm and measured.
When he reached the top, he did not even glance at the elders. His attention was fixed solely on the ebony dagger.
Without a word, he took the blade and cut his palm.
A drop of blood fell onto the inverted runes of the altar.
A tense silence instantly spread across the plaza.
Then the runes lit up.
But unlike the violent fury of Bhima's Scarlet Asura, the light that emerged this time was strange—soft, almost pure.
A first color appeared.
Then a second.
Then a third.
Above the altar, a source of luminous energy slowly formed, resembling a well of light floating in the air. Circles of light began to revolve around it, each with a different color.
Red.
Blue.
Gold.
Green.
Then others followed.
The crowd held its breath.
"What is that…?"
"That energy… it's changing colors!"
The village sages straightened immediately.
One of them whispered in astonishment.
"An evolving bloodline spirit…?"
More rings continued to form around the glowing well.
Four colors.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Then a ninth light slowly appeared.
Nine different colors now revolved around the radiant well.
An elder of the Xuan Clan suddenly stood up, his eyes shining with excitement.
"Bloodline Spirit: Nine-Colored Evolution Well!"
The officiant swallowed before announcing loudly:
"Ancestral Bloodline — Superior Common Rank!"
An uproar immediately swept through the crowd.
"An evolving bloodline?!"
"That means it can continue to grow stronger…"
"Incredible…"
At the top of the altar, Xuan Ling simply observed the luminous vision above him, as if everything happening was perfectly normal.
Then he withdrew the dagger from his palm and calmly descended the steps.
As he passed Bhima Shi, he murmured quietly:
"The awakening… has only just begun."
The officiant raised his hand once again.
"Feng Yue of the Feng Clan!"
The young woman stepped forward with almost unreal grace. Her pale robe flowed around her as though carried by an invisible breeze.
When her foot touched the steps of the altar, the wind itself seemed to change.
Upon reaching the summit, she took the ebony dagger and lightly cut her palm.
A drop of blood fell.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then a sudden gust burst forth.
The spectators' hair lifted violently in the wind.
Above the altar, currents of luminous air appeared, swirling like a celestial cyclone. A silhouette formed within the storm—its immense wings slowly unfolding.
The officiant proclaimed:
"Pure Bloodline: Spirit of the Celestial Wind!"
In the stands, several disciples of the Feng Clan applauded proudly.
Feng Yue calmly descended the steps.
"Mo Chen of the Mo Clan!"
Mo Chen stepped forward with heavy strides. His aura seemed to weigh upon the air itself.
When he reached the altar, he grabbed the dagger without a word and cut his palm.
The blood touched the stone.
Instantly, the ground trembled.
The runes of the altar lit up with a brown and golden glow.
Behind Mo Chen, a gigantic figure of stone slowly appeared—a colossal rock giant with blazing eyes. Each movement of the vision caused the formation barrier to vibrate.
An elder murmured:
"A telluric manifestation…"
The officiant announced:
"Minor Ancestral Bloodline: Ancient Stone Golem!"
Mo Chen descended the steps with an impassive expression.
"Hai Lan of the Hai Clan!"
The young woman walked forward gently. Unlike the previous awakenings, the atmosphere around her seemed to grow calm—almost peaceful.
She cut her palm.
The drop of blood fell.
A blue light spread across the altar.
Above her, a vast ocean of spiritual energy appeared. Translucent waves floated through the air, and at the center of that ocean swam an enormous sea creature made of light.
The crowd fell silent.
Even the wind seemed to stop.
The officiant declared:
"Pure Bloodline: Spirit of the Silent Sea!"
Hai Lan bowed slightly before descending the steps.
"Yan Rui of the Yan Clan!"
The young man climbed the stairs without a sound. His gaze was cold and calculating.
He cut his palm.
The blood fell.
But this time… there was no explosion. No spectacular light.
A shadow simply appeared behind him.
A dark figure holding a long blade.
A chill ran through the crowd.
An elder whispered:
"A silent manifestation…"
The shadow slowly raised its weapon, and the air around it seemed to tear apart.
The officiant announced:
"Pure Bloodline: Spirit of the Phantom Blade!"
Yan Rui descended the steps without saying a word.
The officiant inhaled deeply.
His gaze fell upon the final candidate.
A heavy silence engulfed the entire plaza.
"Wang Chen…"