Western Prefecture, Liangzhou City.

  Ding Jiudeng glanced over his shoulder at the empty alley. The stranger in the conical hat was gone, lost somewhere in the maze of backstreets.

  The shopkeeper had never been kind to him, but Ding Jiudeng didn’t forget favors. Without that miserly old man taking him in, he’d have starved long ago.

  What could that stranger possibly want with the boss?

  He rubbed his smooth scalp, frowned, then started walking. Whatever it was, the shopkeeper needed to know.

  The sky over Liangzhou looked poisoned—heavy, lead-gray clouds pressing down like a lid, making the air hard to breathe.

  Ding Jiudeng eyed the darkening heavens and headed for the city outskirts.

  He knew exactly where the shopkeeper kept his “goods.” Once, when the guards came poking around, the old man had led them straight there himself.

  A few li outside the walls, a crumbling manor appeared through the gloom.

  No servants, no guards—the shopkeeper was too cheap to hire anyone to watch a ruin. Cheap enough to withhold Ding Jiudeng’s wages for the next three months, too.

  He pushed the sagging gate open and stepped inside.

  He never noticed the shadow that slipped in right after him.

  The manor was small. Ding Jiudeng knew every corner. He jogged toward the storage wing.

  Two strides in, he remembered: showing up uninvited would just give the old skinflint another excuse to dock his pay.

  Ah, whatever. Fourth month’s wages were already a lost cause.

  He sped up.

  But the storage room was empty. No shopkeeper. The crates hadn’t been touched—thick dust lay undisturbed on every surface.

  Ding Jiudeng stopped dead. Didn’t the boss say he was coming here to move merchandise?

  A black blur streaked past behind him.

  He caught it only in the corner of his eye. Two heartbeats later, every hair on his body stood straight up.

  He slapped his chest and muttered, “That… was creepy.”

  The whole place suddenly felt wrong. Cold. Evil. He didn’t want to stay another second. Since the shopkeeper wasn’t here, he’d head back to Eternal Prosperity Pawnshop.

  He turned to leave, but before he’d taken three steps, a storm of sacred chants crashed through his mind—temple bells, wooden fish drums, bronze gongs, endless Buddhist hymns roaring inside his skull.

  His thoughts sharpened to crystal clarity. Beneath the chanting he heard wailing, sobbing, desperate cries.

  Why am I hearing these voices?

  He rubbed his bald head again.

  Turning, he saw thick black mist coiling from one corner of the manor, so dense with hatred it seemed alive.

  He hesitated, then walked toward it.

  Moments after he left, the conical-hatted figure appeared where he had stood.

  The stranger’s brow creased beneath the shadow of the hat.

  “Strange ripples… almost like a cultivator’s aura. That errand boy… is a practitioner?”

  The words barely left his mouth before he vanished again.

  Golden light glimmered faintly in Ding Jiudeng’s eyes. In the deepening dusk his shaved head glowed softly, as if lit from within.

  The chanting grew louder, pounding against his skull until it felt ready to split.

  He followed the black mist to the kitchen.

  Behind the cold stove he found a hidden door. The hatred poured from the crack beneath it like smoke.

  At first terror gripped him, but after staring blankly for a while, the fear simply… drained away.

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  He pressed his ear to the door.

  Muffled voices—and the shopkeeper’s oily chuckle.

  “After this deal’s done, lie low. The Liangzhou guards are sniffing too close. Source from another city next time.”

  “That works, but it’s troublesome. Costs more expensive. The price—”

  “You’ll be paid fairly.”

  The accent wasn’t local.

  Then came the metallic clang of someone slapping an iron cage, followed by terrified whimpers.

  The hatred thickened until the air felt like syrup. The chanting in Ding Jiudeng’s head became a hurricane.

  The conical-hatted stranger appeared silently behind him. Ding Jiudeng never sensed a thing.

  A palm pressed lightly between his shoulder blades.

  A gentle push.

  CRASH!

  The hidden door burst inward. Ding Jiudeng stumbled through, arms flailing.

  Dead silence.

  The chamber beyond was huge yet suffocating. Torches guttered on the walls, revealing row after row of iron cages filled with ragged children.

  The shopkeeper’s sharp, rat-like face went slack with horror when he saw that familiar bald head.

  “How are you here?!”

  Steel hissed—blades drawn.

  Ding Jiudeng straightened slowly, taking it all in.

  The chanting in his mind became deafening. Soft golden radiance spilled from his scalp.

  But he barely noticed.

  He stared at the cages and saw himself—small, starving, alone.

  The shopkeeper looked ready to explode.

  Only now, in the flickering torchlight, did Ding Jiudeng recognize the men surrounding him.

  Peacock Kingdom slavers.

  They wore Zhou clothing, but their sharp foreign features betrayed them.

  So this was the “merchandise” that had made the shopkeeper rich beyond counting.

  The children saw him. Hope blazed in their hollow eyes. They began rattling bars, screaming, reaching out with filthy hands.

  Something inside Ding Jiudeng snapped.

  Golden light erupted across his body.

  Invisible torrents of spiritual energy screamed around him, condensing into a towering golden Buddha shadow at his back.

  His body shook.

  Face still frozen in shock and fury, he instinctively pressed his palms together.

  One slaver sneered, raised a curved blade high, aiming for that glowing head—

  A shrill whistle split the air.

  A pair of silver shears punched straight through the man’s chest with a wet crunch.

  From the darkness stepped the stranger in the conical hat.

  The blood-slick shears hovered obediently at his side.

  The shopkeeper turned the color of old ash.

  “Most of these kids are war orphans,” the stranger said coldly. “Scum always wears pretty clothes while doing filthy work in the dark.”

  He glanced at Ding Jiudeng, curiosity sharpening his gaze.

  A pawnshop clerk who’d somehow touched immortality?

  Ding Jiudeng’s expression twisted further—grief and rage boiling together.

  He knew the agony of losing everything to war.

  He had lived it.

  And these monsters were selling helpless children like cattle just because no one would come looking?

  Light flared brighter from his scalp.

  Behind him the golden Buddha grew clearer, solemn and vast.

  Ding Jiudeng looked at the slavers, then at the shopkeeper, and suddenly went very calm.

  Palms still pressed together, head shining like a lantern, he spoke softly.

  “This humble monk urges you… choose kindness.”

  …

  Beiluo, Western Mountain.

  Trial Tower.

  Hundreds of cultivators ringed the white jade tower, faces pale as overwhelming pressure leaked from within.

  Overlord, Lu Changkong, Nie Changqing, Jiang Li, Chi Lian—every top expert had rushed over.

  Even Luo Cheng and Tantai Xuan arrived panting through the snow.

  Jiang Li shot Tantai Xuan a strange look—they’d literally just said goodbye.

  Tantai Xuan gave an awkward grin. Small world.

  Inside the tower, Cong Zhao rose from her cushion, eyes wide.

  Jing Yue gripped his sword tighter. Ni Yu, Bai Qingniao, and Nie Shuang stared in stunned awe.

  Far across the floor, the disheveled scholar sat cross-legged, tattered robes whipping in a cyclone of spiritual energy, every strand of messy hair standing on end.

  Cong Zhao whispered, “He’s… trying to break through Body Storage straight into Heaven Lock?”

  She couldn’t believe it. When Kong Nanfei entered the tower, his Body Storage wasn’t even complete.

  Could his foundation possibly hold under such a rushed ascension?

  Would he even survive stepping into Heaven Lock?

  No one had dreamed the first person to challenge Heaven Lock would be the scruffy scholar who’d always ranked middle of the pack.

  Yet now he had leapt ahead of everyone.

  High above the plane, Lu Fan hovered before the world origin, fingers weaving runes. Chains of order snaked out and wrapped around his hand.

  Second-tier thunder punishment—three bolts total.

  That was the current limit of Five Phoenixes Continent.

  This was the tribulation Lu Fan had crafted exclusively for Heaven Lock realm. Normal golden-core breakthroughs only triggered ordinary lightning.

  Finished, he smiled faintly and returned to the second floor of White Jade Capital pavilion.

  Having endured tribulation himself, scripting this one had been relatively smooth.

  The second-tier was essentially a watered-down version of the third—far less lethal.

  When vast righteous qi began gathering between heaven and earth, Lu Fan immediately knew who was breaking through.

  Kong Nanfei.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  He’d bet on Cong Zhao.

  “Insights from the fifth floor’s Heavenly Dao source plus the Song of Righteousness gave him sudden clarity, so he’s riding the wave straight to Heaven Lock?”

  Lu Fan tapped his wheelchair armrest.

  Can he really succeed?

  Even Lu Fan wasn’t sure.

  It was far too early.

  Kong Nanfei hadn’t even stabilized his recent Body Storage breakthrough, hadn’t adapted to his new power.

  Attempting Heaven Lock now felt almost impatient.

  But since the man dared, he must have some confidence.

  On Lake Heart Island, Mo Tianyu also sensed the shift.

  He gazed toward Western Mountain and the surge of righteous qi.

  Kong Nanfei?

  He pulled out tortoise shell and copper coins, exhaled solemnly, and knelt before the Master’s grave.

  Coins rattled inside the shell.

  Three coins fell and stacked neatly.

  Mo Tianyu’s pupils shrank.

  “Disaster omen…”

  …

  Western Mountain.

  The tower gates swung open.

  Cong Zhao led Ni Yu, Bai Qingniao, and the others outside.

  Only then did the crowd learn it was Kong Nanfei—the scholar who’d never once left the tower—who was attempting the breakthrough.

  “That sloppy scholar?”

  “Kong Nanfei, grandson of the great Master Kong Xiu!”

  “Is he going to claim his grandfather’s glory?”

  Gasps rippled everywhere.

  Overlord frowned deeply.

  Jiang Li was shaken—he knew Kong Nanfei’s strength well. How had he reached this level so quickly?

  Meng Haoran’s face flushed scarlet with excitement. His own master was about to become the world’s first Heaven Lock cultivator!

  If Kong Nanfei succeeded, the Haoran Sect would shake the heavens!

  “Master, you must succeed!”

  He clenched his fists until knuckles cracked.

  BOOM!

  The sky shattered.

  Black clouds boiled in from every direction, pressure so heavy the air itself seemed to solidify.

  Lightning swam like dragons inside the thunderclouds.

  It was tribulation thunder!

  Just like Young Master Lu had once faced!

  Kong Nanfei was truly attempting Heaven Lock!

  Cong Zhao, Nie Changqing, Overlord—every peak expert felt a storm of emotions.

  They wanted him to succeed… and they didn’t.

  Because every one of them had secretly dreamed of being first.

  And now someone else had seized that honor.

  Rumble—

  The tower’s massive doors slammed wide.

  Kong Nanfei stepped out, robes ragged, face calm and solemn, each footfall crunching deep into the snow.

  In that moment he became the axis of the world.

  No one spoke.

  Because the true trial had only just begun.

  Above, an ocean of lightning churned within the tribulation clouds.

  Kong Nanfei’s tattered robes flapped wildly. He tilted his grimy face to the sky, heart quaking before heaven’s majesty.

  Could a mortal truly defy the will of heaven?

  But after the awe came burning defiance.

  Why the hell shouldn’t he?!

  Laughter exploded from his chest—wild, fearless—as he strode through the frozen clearing.

  Snowflakes hung motionless in the air.

  He stood alone beneath the tower.

  Suddenly he spun toward the crowd.

  “Haoran! Got wine?”

  Meng Haoran started.

  You’re about to face heavenly thunder and you want booze?

  But he didn’t hesitate—grabbed the jar he’d prepared long ago and tossed it high.

  Kong Nanfei’s eyes blazed.

  Robes billowing like banners, he caught it one-handed, smashed the seal with his palm, and threw his head back.

  Wine poured in a silver torrent down his throat.

  Laughter and righteous qi shook the mountain together.

  Above his head, the first bolt could no longer be contained.

  With an earth-splitting roar, a dragon-thick column of violet lightning tore down—straight at the laughing, drinking, disheveled scholar who dared to defy the heavens themselves!