Ascension Fork
The summit of Zixiao Peak has always been a VIP room for ascension reserved by powerful figures in the cultivation world. Today's guest is Ling Yao.
The tribulation clouds were incredibly impressive, stretching for thousands of miles in pitch black, with lightning bolts crisscrossing everywhere. Their scale was truly remarkable, earning them an excellent reputation for "after-sales service" (referring to their ability to kill people). Any ordinary cultivator who caught a glimpse of them from afar, especially those with unstable Dao hearts, would instantly perform a deathbed ritual.
But Ling Yao was clearly no ordinary cultivator. She traversed the gaps in the thunderstorms, which were so powerful they could flatten a mountain three or five times over, riding a longsword wreathed in shimmering blue light. Her robes fluttered, and her posture was as leisurely as if she were strolling in her own backyard. Occasionally, a particularly inconsiderate and excessively powerful bolt of lightning would strike her, at which point she would reluctantly extend two fingers and, as if cracking a walnut, snap the lightning into sparks that scattered in all directions. She couldn't help but comment, "The force is passable, but the purity is lacking. The tempering effect isn't even as good as that thunderstorm I experienced three years ago when I was bathing by the East China Sea."
If those guests at the foot of the mountain, who relied on the protective array passed down from their ancestors but were still shaken by the aftershocks of the lightning tribulation, their internal organs dislocated and who vomited blood, heard these words, they would probably be so angry that they would vomit blood like fountains. Comparison is the thief of joy, and the title of the queen of infighting in the cultivation world was earned by Ling Yao through sheer strength, punch by punch.
"This is the final trial of inner demons." Ling Yao became a little more serious, raising her eyes to look at the vortex deep in the sky that was brewing endless, eerie red light. Her tone carried a hint of anticipation for the upcoming breakthrough. "Once we pass this trial, we can push open the door and see if the scenery up there is just as swirling."
She held her breath, and the vast, boundless immortal power within her began to circulate according to a profound trajectory, preparing to face the final test that would directly challenge her true nature, stir up her seven emotions and six desires, and conjure up a multitude of illusions. According to the instructions, shouldn't she then see her deceased master jump out and scold her for being wasteful, or her inner demons conjure countless elixirs to cause her Dao heart to become unbalanced?
However, the expected erotic... no, dangerous scene did not occur.
At the center of that crimson vortex, as if torn open by an impatient giant, what was revealed was not some illusion of inner demons, but a deep, distorted, and utterly incomprehensible chaotic void! A savage, domineering, and utterly lawless suction force suddenly erupted from it, ignoring the layers of protective immortal light around her and the obstruction of the laws of this world, like a rogue strongman, grabbing her slender waist... uh, her entire body!
"Wait! This process isn't right!" Ling Yao felt a sudden tightness around her, and as if she had been thrown by a catapult, she was uncontrollably smashed into the crack. "This extra service wasn't mentioned in the Heavenly Tribulation Package! Is this a forced sale? I'm going to file a complaint!"
Her immortal power, strong enough to withstand eighty-one strikes of Purple Heaven Divine Lightning, became as docile as a stream flowing into a vast ocean before this strange suction force, without even a ripple. The natal flying sword beneath her feet let out a mournful cry, its azure light vanishing abruptly, its spiritual essence utterly lost. The next moment, she was completely engulfed by that irresistible force, swept into the depths of that bizarre and chaotic rift where the rules of space and time were in complete disarray.
"What the hell..." These were Ling Yao's last,吐槽-filled thoughts before her consciousness was engulfed by chaos. What a rip-off! This ascension experience was terrible, zero stars, a must-give-a-bad review!
Meanwhile, in a Western world separated by countless dimensions, the central square of Rockefeller School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was filled with laughter and joy, brimming with youthful... well, the happiness that was about to end.
The annual graduation ceremony was reaching its crucial moment. The venerable Dean Maurice, an old man with a beard and robe as white as snow, stood behind the obsidian podium, delivering his forty-eighth graduation address—the forty-eighth in his career, and one whose content remained virtually unchanged. His voice boomed, amplified by amplification magic, echoing throughout the square:
"...May the light of magic forever guide your path! May your wisdom, like an inextinguishable lamp, illuminate..."
The old man was in high spirits, gesturing so fast it was almost blurry, and was about to enter the climax of his blessing.
Then, God showed his intentions with actions: Not enough light? I'll give you a big one!
A loud "whoosh—boom!!!!!" was heard.
After an extremely sharp, tearing sound like tearing fabric, came a deafening, terrifying impact that made the entire square bounce three times!
A streak of light, carrying a speed that would make all flying magic pale in comparison, and an aura that could shatter the protective barriers around the plaza, supposedly capable of withstanding a dragon's charge, into pieces like paper, struck with unparalleled precision and utter ruthlessness—right in the center of the ceremony stage! Less than ten steps in front of the old dean, Morris!
Smoke and dust mixed with gravel shot into the sky, resembling a giant, dusty mushroom cloud. The carefully arranged flower arch and floating magic lights shattered into pieces, and the powerful shockwave sent the graduates in the front row, dressed in brand-new mage robes and ready to enjoy their moment of glory, flying snacks and juices, and their legal codes and top hats all mixed together.
Dead silence.
Absolute silence.
Only the shattered magic fountain remained, hissing and leaking water, as if providing a cheap background soundtrack for the sudden silence.
Dean Maurice remained in that pose of arms outstretched, embracing the future, his mouth slightly agape, his crystal glasses askew on his nose, a few carefully combed white hairs stubbornly sticking up. His mind was buzzing, only one philosophical question swirling within him: "...Are graduates these days...always so...enthusiastic in their acknowledgments?"
A full five seconds passed before a female student's heart-wrenching scream shattered the silence: "Ah—!!!"
This sound was like a starting gun, and the entire square instantly erupted in chaos!
"Enemy attack! It's an enemy attack!"
"Protect the hospital director! Quickly! Emergency barrier!"
"Priest! Healing team! Someone's injured here!"
"My graduation thesis! My newly received graduation certificate! All gone!"
"Who stepped on my owl!"
The crowd scurried about like a swarm of startled lemmings. The academy guards, clad in silver armor, finally reacted, shouting themselves hoarse as they tried to maintain order while nervously surrounding the still-smoking crater. The atmosphere was tense, yet they dared not advance.
Amidst the chaotic commotion, at the very back of the crowd, a boy with messy brown curly hair and a crookedly worn mage's robe—Finn Leaver—stood on tiptoe, his eyes wide as owls, muttering to himself, "Cool! So cool! This entrance! This domineering aura that ignores barriers! A million times cooler than that flying carriage those illusionists put on! Is this some alchemy workshop's latest groundbreaking product test?"
His friend was deathly pale, his lips trembling: "Finn! Have you been brainwashed by a troll? This is clearly an accident! A terrorist attack! People will die!"
"What do you know!" Finn said, exasperated. "This is art! It's all about that groundbreaking, shocking feeling! I'd bet my entire history of magic that the guy in the pit is a real master!"
In the professors' viewing area not far away, Potions Professor Eleanor Silverstalker straightened her gold-rimmed glasses, which had been knocked askew by the shockwave, her brows furrowed deeply, forming a deep "川" (river) shape. Ignoring the chaos, her academic mind immediately detected and analyzed the residual energy fluctuations in the air.
It was neither elemental magic nor divine power, nor crude alchemy, as she knew it. It was a strange, icy, and obscure residual energy, possessing a sense of supreme order yet incompatible with the laws of this world. It violently tore through space and arrogantly ignored all protective laws.
“Absurd! Incomprehensible!” Professor Eleanor hissed, her tone a mixture of intense displeasure and a hint of aroused, damned curiosity. “It completely violates the Law of Spatial Stability and the Law of Conservation of Energy! This energy structure… is unheard of! It is a blatant provocation against the existing magical system! It must be thoroughly investigated!” She had already subconsciously pulled out a portable crystal recorder from her robes and begun recording data, while mentally drafting a complaint and consultation report for the Academy’s Security Committee and Academic Ethics Committee.
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