Chapter 79: By Command Alone Through Fire and Fear

At the far edges of the Obsidian Woodlands stood two towering mountains, their jagged peaks partially blocking the sun's light from reaching a deep valley below. This shadowed section of the valley was a haven for demonic beasts, whose activity was unnervingly vibrant. However, a massive protective formation, shimmering like a celestial curtain, loomed high in the sky, dividing the valley's savage wilderness from a hidden domain within.

This hidden stronghold was Phantom Valley, the headquarters of the Celestial Shadow Church, a secretive, dark and powerful organization within the Obsidian Woodlands. Phantom Valley sprawled across a vast area, its terrain a dark yet expansive tapestry. High hills dotted the landscape, and countless structures such as pavilions, grand temples, and combat arenas were arranged meticulously across the valley. Despite being a hub for beings that operated on the fringes of morality, the Shadow Church remained an institution focused on cultivating its members, balancing chaos with discipline.

At present, a colossal dome-like formation enveloped Phantom Valley, its surface shimmering faintly with complex patterns and runes. This protective shield, a Grade 5 formation, exuded an aura of profound power, capable of withstanding attacks that could raze entire regions. Such formations required the immense strength and spiritual insight of a Spirit Integration Stage expert to create. The golden and violet hues of the shield pulsed in rhythmic waves, emanating a protective resonance that reinforced its unyielding nature.

Yet, a chilling mystery loomed over the valley as well as the other parting of the four continents. The Obsidian Woodlands, notorious for its scarcity of such a high-level cultivators, was not known to harbor anyone at the Spirit Integration Stage. Who, then, could have created such a masterpiece of spiritual defense? The air within the valley buzzed with speculation, as whispers hinted at an enigmatic figure whose existence defied the known limits of power in the region.

-

Within the depths of Phantom Valley, a chilling fighting ring stood like a monument to death and desperation. Its outer edge bristled with inward-pointing spikes, their sharp tips gleaming ominously in the dim light. The spikes seemed to radiate malice, each one a silent reminder of the fates of those who had fallen within. The ring was divided into three sections, two of which were marked by lifeless bodies—a young man and woman—each sprawled across the cold, unyielding stone. Their blood still flowed sluggishly, pooling beneath them in dark, spreading stains, the heat of their lives not yet extinguished.

In the third section, a fierce and bloody struggle raged on. A young woman, barely standing, faced off against a similarly battered young man. Her right shoulder was grotesquely slashed, the wound so deep that pale bone gleamed through torn flesh. Her body was marred with numerous stab wounds, each oozing crimson, painting a grim tableau against her pallid skin. Blood flecked her face, mingling with sweat and dirt, and her labored breathing came in ragged gasps. A short blade trembled in her grasp, and her unfocused eyes hinted at the limits of her endurance.

Her opponent fared no better. A jagged cut ran the length of his back, the flesh peeled apart to reveal bone beneath. Blood streamed from a gash on his face, dribbling into his eyes as he blinked furiously to keep his vision clear. His body was littered with injuries, broken bones and organs, each one a testament to the ferocity of their battle. He swayed slightly, his exhaustion as palpable as the tension in the air.

"Time's up!" boomed a deep, resonant voice from beyond the ring. The speaker was a masked elder, his face obscured by a featureless black mask that exuded an eerie authority. Beside him stood Jin Wu, the shadowy figure flanked by Hang Cai, who maintained a silent, watchful presence.

At the elder's command, the two fighters froze, though their bodies screamed for respite. Their fatigue was unmistakable, their struggles to remain upright a desperate act of willpower.

"I've decided to keep the two of you" the elder announced, his tone cold and calculating. "You've done well. Out of one thousand juniors, you two have fought and killed your way to the top. It would be a waste to lose either of you." A twisted smile curled beneath the mask. "Congratulations. You both now hold the titles of the second and third strongest of your generation. Go to the Temple of Faith to pay your respects and receive your blessings."

The masked elder's words hung heavily in the air as he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. The fighters bowed low, their movements stiff with pain, and began to leave. Despite their grievous injuries, neither dared show weakness; they knew that any display of frailty could prompt the elder to change his mind, perhaps ordering a final duel to the death.

This was the way of the Celestial Shadow Church—a doctrine of cruelty wrapped in the guise of divine purpose. Its methods of selecting talent were both ruthless and efficient, leaving no room for the weak or unworthy. The church scoured the lands for orphans, children bereft of family and hope. Through calculated manipulation, they engineered despair, destroying families in secret and sweeping in as saviors, offering shelter and a promise of power for vengeance.

For those who sought to rise within the ranks, the path was paved with unimaginable trials. Chief among these was the Trial of Hell, Death, and Rebirth, a process designed to forge the strongest while discarding the rest like refuse.

It began with two thousand juniors cast into the wild, stripped of weapons, food, and water. The church would cordon off a vast expanse of land and unleash a horde of vicious demonic beasts, each one tailored to match the juniors' cultivation realms. For seven harrowing days, the participants were left to fend for themselves.

Survival required cunning, strength, and ruthlessness. They hunted to eat, crafted makeshift shelters, and fought for their lives against both beasts and one another. The weak were devoured; the strong grew sharper with every kill.

After this ordeal, the survivors were granted a brief reprieve—a mere ten days to recover. Then came the second trial, a test of endurance and will. The remaining juniors were taken to the twin peaks of Phantom Valley and exposed to the elements. There, the elders unleashed the oppressive weight of their cultivation bases, a suffocating pressure that could crush bones if the juniors faltered even for a moment. They endured this torment for four relentless days, standing against wind, rain, and the omnipresent threat of death.

Only then came the final test: the fighting ring. Here, the survivors faced one another in brutal combat, their goal to claim the coveted title of number one among their generation. While the positions of second and third were slightly less stringent, the church still demanded blood and sacrifice. The death rate for the trials was staggeringly high, hovering at 99%. Rarely, as in this case, would even a fraction of a percent allow for an exception.

Elder Shenyin, one of the four ruthless leaders of Phantom Valley, watched as the bloodied juniors departed. To him, their suffering was a necessary cost, a crucible that refined raw potential into peerless weapons for the Celestial Shadow Church.

-

After watching the bloodied juniors stagger out of sight, Elder Shenyin turned his attention to the two figures standing silently behind him. Jin Wu and Hang Cai stood tall and tense, their faces devoid of expression, yet their posture betrayed the weight of the elder's gaze.

"Jin Wu" Elder Shenyin began, his voice like the tolling of a bell, deep and final. "Your path has grown stagnant. You are to head to the Hell Bound Pit. Consider this both a punishment for your inadequacies and an opportunity to redeem yourself. Do not emerge until you have summoned a Spirit Projection. Understand this—breaking into the Golden Core Realm is no trivial matter, progressing afterwards therein is a next challenge. Your obsession with the royal family of the Golden Steppe has clouded your mind, weighing you down like chains. This fixation is your greatest obstacle to advancement."

"When the royal family arrives, you must be ready to face them with strength that wipes away your shame. Do not fail me."

Before Jin Wu could respond, Elder Shenyin waved his hand, a gesture as dismissive as it was commanding, cutting off any chance for argument. The words carried the finality of a guillotine's blade.

Jin Wu turned his head slightly, glancing at Hang Cai, who returned the look. Their shared glance spoke volumes, an unspoken dread passing between them at the mention of the Hell Bound Pit. Its reputation alone was enough to chill even the bravest of hearts—a nightmarish place where agony forged power, if one survived.

"Yes, Elder. I will go there immediately" Jin Wu said, his tone measured and resolute, though a flicker of unease lingered beneath his words. He bowed deeply before turning and walking away, his footsteps steady despite the turmoil within.

Elder Shenyin's gaze shifted to Hang Cai, his sharp eyes narrowing as he addressed the other disciple. "As for you, Hang Cai, failure is not an option either. You are to venture to the Thousand Ridges and retrieve a Demonshade Heart for me. This task will test you to your limits. Only by accomplishing this will you find the path to your breakthrough. Should you fail..." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "Then it will be a pity, but I will not mourn wasted potential."

Hang Cai swallowed hard, his throat tight with both fear and determination. "Yes, Elder. I will succeed" he said, bowing low. His voice was steady, but his clenched fists betrayed the storm raging within him his fast beating heart.

Without another word, Hang Cai straightened and strode away. Behind him, Elder Shenyin stood unmoving, a silent overseer of their fates. Both disciples knew their missions were more than mere tests—they were ultimatums. Succeed, and they would rise to greater heights. Fail, and they would be discarded like the countless others before them.

The Hell Bound Pit and the Thousand Ridges were not merely locations; they were crucibles where life and death danced on a razor's edge. For Jin Wu and Hang Cai, the road ahead was steep, shadowed by impossible odds. Yet in the world of the Celestial Shadow Church, where only the strongest survived, there was no other choice.