Ultimate Magus in Cultivation World

The silence of the great hall was deceptive. Beneath the glow of the rune-lanterns, every prodigy's aura stirred faintly, colliding like unseen storms. Pride, ambition, greed—each one burned with its own fire, and Elder Lin knew that before these trials ended, those fires would consume one another.

A deep tremor ran through the hall. The ten doors pulsed as one, their sigils flaring brighter, casting long shadows across the gathered youths. The runes along the floor began to shift, rearranging into a vast circular array, and the hum of power grew into a low thunder.

The trials were awakening.

Haiyun lifted his sword lazily, his grin widening. "Looks like the gates are impatient. Brat, if you've got a choice to make, now's the time. Wait too long and one of these other pups will steal the path out from under you."

True enough, Jin Suichang's eyes were already fixed on the bronze door blazing with a sun-shaped insignia. Heat rippled from his body in waves, each exhale like a furnace. "The Trial of the Sun," he murmured, his voice heavy with certainty. Without hesitation, he strode toward it.

Han Qinglan rose as well, her steps quiet, graceful, her gaze locked on the jade door that glowed with an ice-crystal sigil. The temperature around her dropped instantly, frost whispering across the stones as she approached.

Zhao Ren scoffed, purple lightning snapping across his arms as he turned toward a black-iron door carved with jagged bolts. Sparks rained from his form, the air crackling with the promise of thunder.

One by one, the prodigies began moving. Each chose with the certainty of those who believed destiny bent to their will.

Elder Lin's hands tightened behind his back as he watched them. Every step carried weight—one wrong choice, and even the most brilliant of these seedlings would vanish into dust.

And still, Tian Lei did not move.

He remained seated, eyes closed, his aura flowing calmly as if he neither saw nor heard the others. But inside the Infinite Library, his consciousness sharpened like a drawn blade. Threads of knowledge connected, weaving a map of strengths and weaknesses, guiding him toward the path he must first tread.

Tian Lei remained utterly motionless in the physical hall, but within the depths of his Fortune Realm, storms raged.

The Infinite Library's endless shelves stretched out before him, and from its depths he summoned the memory of the spear manuals he had glimpsed in his earlier studies. Scrolls unfurled across the void, diagrams of thrusts, sweeps, and spins glowing faintly in golden ink.

The spear. Of all weapons, it was the one he was least attuned to. His foundation in sword, palm, and soul arts eclipsed it easily. But precisely because of that, this was the path he would tread first.

He closed his eyes, body flickering as his soul-image grasped a spectral shaft. The spear in his hands felt unwieldy at first, its balance unfamiliar, its reach demanding precision beyond instinct. He breathed, adjusted, and began to move.

Soaring Dragon Spear Art.

It was no heaven-defying inheritance, nor a peerless divine scripture. Just an Heaven-grade art, balanced between aggression and defense, sharp enough to pierce but not overwhelming in essence. Perfect for a trial that demanded proof of competence rather than mastery.

The first motion—Dragon Awakens—stabbed forward, clean but hesitant. He frowned. Adjusted. Tried again.

The second motion—Coiling Tail—swept wide, its arc tearing through phantom air currents.

The third motion—Ascending Roar—spiraled upward, spear-tip carrying a faint, rising force.

Slowly, the awkwardness dissolved, replaced by the flow of discipline. Within the Infinite Library, each repetition was magnified, every flaw exposed, every adjustment refined. Sweat beaded across his brow in the real hall though he never opened his eyes.

Outside, the prodigies chose their doors one after another, stepping into the unknown. Inside, Tian Lei honed weakness into edge.

At last, the spear in his grip no longer felt foreign. Each thrust rang with clarity, each sweep carried weight, each spiral bore momentum like a dragon stirring in its sleep. What began as a borrowed form now answered to his will, flowing with the ease of water down a mountain stream.

Tian Lei lowered the weapon, exhaling slowly. The awkwardness was gone. What remained was quiet confidence—sharp, steady, unshakable.

When Tian Lei finally opened his eyes in the great hall, he rose without hesitation. His steps were calm, unhurried, as though he had simply been waiting for the right moment.

"Finally awake, eh? So… which gate will you choose?" Haiyun asked, his grin sly as ever.

"The spear," Tian Lei said simply.

Haiyun's brows lifted. "The spear? Hah! I've never once seen you lift a spear in your life. Are you sure, brat?"

Tian Lei's gaze didn't waver. "You speak as if you've been watching me every moment since birth."

"Hah!" Haiyun chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe not—but I've seen enough. If that's what you've chosen, then go on."

Elder Lin's eyes narrowed slightly, his voice quiet but probing. "Strange choice. Young Master Tian Lei is best with the sword, is he not?"

Haiyun barked a laugh. "Best at sword? No, Elder Lin—you've got it wrong. The brat's truest talent lies in archery. But he's never been one to cling to what's easy."

Elder Lin's frown deepened. "So he deliberately chooses a weapon he has not mastered…?"

Haiyun folded his arms, pride gleaming in his eyes. "That's Tian Lei for you. Born to defy expectations. Even if the heavens handed him a golden path, he'd turn and walk the stone one instead—just to prove it could be done."

"Or…" Haiyun stroked his beard with a knowing smirk, "maybe it's simpler. That brat must've chosen the spear because he knows it's the path he's least skilled in. Leave the ones he's best at for later."

Elder Lin's expression softened, his head tilting as he considered. "Hm. That may be true." His gaze shifted briefly to the other prodigies, several of whom had already vanished through their chosen trials. A few had even returned, battered and weary, before seating themselves cross-legged to recover. "So, some have already completed one trial…" he murmured.

Haiyun chuckled, waving a hand as if brushing away concern. "It doesn't matter. The ruins won't close for a full year. Tian Lei has more than enough time to attempt all ten trials—if he wishes."

Elder Lin nodded slowly, his eyes sharpening again as he watched Tian Lei step forward. The youth's pace was steady, neither rushed nor hesitant, as he approached the gate engraved with the soaring spear. When he placed his hand upon it, the runes flared to life, and the door pulsed like a living heart before parting with a deep, resonant boom.

Without a glance back, Tian Lei walked through, vanishing into the trial.

When Tian Lei opened his eyes, he found himself standing within a vast golden square. The air shimmered faintly, suffused with a sacred pressure that weighed upon his chest like a mountain. At the far end of the square rose an elevated platform, upon which an elder stood tall, spear in hand.

The man's voice rolled like thunder, echoing across the space.

"Now, I will show you a spear art. All of you must watch, listen, and move as one if you wish to pass this trial."

Tian Lei glanced to the side—there were others present, young cultivators who had also chosen this path. Each of them bowed their heads in solemn respect before raising their eyes, intent and focused.

The elder did not wait. With steady steps, he lifted the spear, the shaft gleaming under the golden light. "Watch carefully."

The first motion was deceptively simple: a thrust, clean and direct. Yet as the tip pierced the air, it was as though the heavens themselves shuddered. A ripple burst outward, shaking the ground beneath their feet.

One by one, the prodigies began moving, imitating the elder's stance, struggling to capture even the outline of that terrifying strike.

But Tian Lei only narrowed his eyes. This is easy for me… comprehension is my path. His thoughts rang steady in his mind. With my soul's strength, I can trace every flow, every thread. Even if it were a divine-grade art, I could carve it into memory by sight alone.

While others sweated, stumbling to match the rhythm, Tian Lei remained utterly calm. His consciousness stretched, his spiritual perception wrapping around every shift of the elder's muscles, every tremor of qi that rippled through the spear. To him, the elder's technique unfolded like a book opening page by page.

The elder's spear moved again. Then again. Each strike different—thrust, sweep, twist, spiral. Every motion carried a world of intent: the swiftness of lightning, the steadiness of mountains, the inevitability of falling rain.

One after another, the techniques came, each heavier, sharper, deadlier than the last.

And Tian Lei absorbed them all.

The golden square trembled as the elder's final strike carved a blazing arc across the air, its shadow lingering long after the spear returned to stillness. The elder's eyes, deep and piercing, swept across the gathered disciples.

"Now," his voice resounded, "show me what you have learned."