Elder Ji's scowl deepened. "Hah! True. No matter how talented he is, the boy is still mortal. The Hall of Nine Sins won't let him live after this display. They'll crush him like an insect."
Laughter filled the chamber, their sinister mirth echoing against the stone walls.
The Fourth Grand Elder, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. His voice was low and gravelly, carrying an air of finality. "Let him climb. Let him succeed. It doesn't matter. At the end of the day, we control the sect. If he thinks his talent can protect him, he's a fool. The sect will remain ours, no matter what."
"Haha! Well said, brother," Elder Ji cackled. "Let him have his moment. It will make his fall all the more satisfying."
Their laughter continued as the bell tolled again, its solemn chime seeming to mock their words.
Back at the base of Ghost Peak, the disciples continued to watch in anticipation. The air was thick with excitement and tension as they speculated about the identity of the challenger.
"Do you think Sword Childe will make it to the fifth level?" one disciple asked nervously.
"If it's really him, who knows?" another replied, shaking their head. "But if he does, he'll make history."
"Or he'll make enemies," someone muttered under their breath, casting a wary glance toward the distant Peak where the Grand Elders resided.
As the crowd continued to debate, the shadow of Ghost Peak loomed over them, silent and unyielding. For Dao Wei, the path ahead was fraught with danger, not just from the trials of the Ghost Peak but from those who sought to end his rise.
But in that moment, none of it mattered. All focus was on the Ancient Bell, waiting to see if it would ring again.
Meanwhile…
BOOM!
The moment Dao Wei stepped through the fiery door into the fourth level of Ghost Peak, a suffocating wave of pressure crashed down on him. His breath hitched as his knees buckled involuntarily, his muscles screaming in protest.
"Damn it... this is no joke," Dao Wei muttered, gritting his teeth as he forced himself upright. The pressure here was unlike anything he had encountered in the earlier levels. If the third level had tested his endurance and resolve, this level was a crucible designed to crush even the slightest weakness.
The atmosphere was oppressive, as though the very air were forged from steel. Dao Wei glanced around, taking in the surroundings. The fourth level was a vast space—without time, gravity, or direction, its edges shrouded in an endless void. The ground beneath him was made of smooth, polished black stone that shimmered faintly, reflecting faint traces of his silhouette. Strange, ancient runes glowed faintly on the walls, exuding an aura of intimidation and mystery.
High above, an ominous red light stretched endlessly, its source obscured by swirling storm clouds that seemed to exist solely to heighten the tension. There was no wind, no sound—only the constant, crushing weight that rained down on him.
Dao Wei clenched his fists, forcing his body to adapt to the environment. Every movement felt sluggish, as though he were wading through molasses. Even drawing breath required deliberate effort.
"Double the pressure, great." Dao Wei murmured, his eyes narrowing. "It's like trying to fight with a mountain strapped to my back."
Shing!
Suddenly, a series of metallic clangs echoed through the arena, cutting through the oppressive silence. Dao Wei's instincts screamed as a faint ripple spread through the space before him. He barely had time to react when a sword beam shot toward him at lightning speed.
Clang! Clang!
Dao Wei pivoted sharply, his body screaming in protest as he narrowly avoided the attack. The beam left a scorching gash on the stone behind him, the heat singeing his robe.
"So, this level's focus is on reflexes," Dao Wei muttered, his voice tight with concentration.
Before he could recover, another attack came, this time from above. His eyes darted upward, catching sight of a silver blur descending toward him like a thunderbolt. With a grunt, Dao Wei leaped to the side, feeling the blade's edge slice through the air inches from his face.
Bang! Bang!
The pressure of the fourth level wasn't just physical; it seeped into his mind, attacking from within while crushing his physical body. Each attack was faster, more precise, and utterly relentless.
As the onslaught continued, Dao Wei realized something else: the Way of the Sword embedded in this level was far more advanced than anything he had encountered before. To make it worse—it was a combination of different ways of the sword.
"Domineering sword intent," he muttered, dodging another strike that appeared out of thin air. "This level doesn't just test reaction—it forces you to become one with the sword or at least die trying."
The attacks were not random. They followed a pattern, one Dao Wei could barely perceive as he fought to stay alive. Each strike seemed to embody a principle of the sword: precision, timing, and flow. The very essence of swordsmanship was being etched into his body with every movement.
The entire level itself seemed to resonate with these principles. The glowing runes on the walls pulsed faintly as if judging his every move. The crushing pressure seemed to intensify whenever he hesitated, punishing even the slightest delay. These attacks represented a different sword path but resonated as if they were of the same origin.
Sweat dripped down Dao Wei's face as he moved, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. The intensity of the fourth level was unlike anything he had ever experienced. His body ached, his muscles burning with exhaustion, but his mind was alight with clarity.
"This is what it means to wield the sword," he thought, a spark of understanding igniting within him.
His movements grew sharper, more fluid. He began to anticipate the attacks, his reflexes honed to an almost instinctual level. The strikes that had once overwhelmed him now seemed almost manageable.
"This doesn't seem like a random test skill—it's like an elite classroom," Dao Wei realized, his jasper eyes gleaming with newfound determination. "Teaching me the Way of the Sword in its purest form."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
As if responding to his thoughts, the attacks grew fiercer. The silver blades multiplied, appearing from every direction, leaving him with no room to breathe.
Dao Wei's sword avatar emerged behind him, towering like an immovable emperor. The avatar's presence bolstered his resolve, its ethereal form moving in perfect sync with him.
"Hah, let's see what you made of," Dao Wei said, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite the overwhelming pressure.
Clang! Clang!
The next series of attacks came with blinding speed, metal crashing against the ethereal swords. Dao Wei's movements changed, flowing like water, ducking and dodging each strike with precision. His movements were no longer sluggish, no longer forced.
He was adapting.
The fourth level had stripped him down, tearing away any hesitation or imperfection. It left him raw, and vulnerable, but in that vulnerability, that was were one found strength.
The oppressive pressure still weighed on him, but it no longer felt suffocating. Instead, it felt like a forge, tempering him instead of destroying him.
As the onslaught continued, Dao Wei decided to halt the fighting and understand the concept of the fourth level—sitting cross-legged, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. An ethereal dome covered him as the barrage of attacks kept intensifying.
"This..." Dao Wei murmured, as he meditated trying to figure out the sword's pathway. "There's not even a pattern to this whole thing. Man, I won't stop until I've mastered it."
As if responding to the challenge, the entire room shifted as a chilling silence swallowed Dao Wei whole. It was as if the entire place ceased to exist. There was no ground beneath him, no sky, no walls, no air—only an eternal void.
Dao Wei remained motionless in a lotus position, deep in meditation. His body floated in the boundless nothingness, his body weightless. His sense of direction collapses. He couldn't tell if he was standing, falling, or drifting. Within this empty space, only Dao Wei existed in an endless space of…nothing.
"This is…" Dao Wei smiled as if he'd figured something.
But suddenly, a whisper of movement flickered past him. A sword—invisible, formless—sliced toward his throat. Dao Wei twisted instinctively, barely dodging the strike.
Whoosh!
Then another.
And another.
The attacks were random—as if they came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, not governed by time and space. Dao Wei's senses heightened, his ears adjusting to the stillness, but he picked up nothing. His pupil dilated to maximize the field of view but nothing was there—yet attacks existed.
"I can't beat this head-on," Dao Wei sighed. Taking the lotus position once more, the protective shield manifested, deflecting and blocking the barrage of merciless attacks while Dao Wei tried to figure out the way out. Giving up wasn't an option, and Dao Wei knew that well, pushing himself to the limit to find the fourth level's secret.
Deep within Dao Wei's sea of Qi, dozens of avatars practiced the sword, trying to imitate the formless attacks from the outside. Each moved in a different, random, yet the attacks were coordinated.
A glimpse of his time with the 'Old Man' appeared in his sea of Qi. The old man sipped tea as the young Dao Wei was playing around with a silver sword.