Chapter Six: Awakening as if from a Dream

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Sand and dust filled the sky, and the golden grains within, sharp as blades, grazed every disciple present.

Zhu Qianqing swiftly cast a basic protective spell; golden light flashed, soon enveloping her entire body.

Her cultivation was at the third stage of the Concentration Realm. While this wasn’t considered high within the sect, the Zhu family was a prestigious clan with a steady flow of resources. Thus, even at this level, her foundation was outstanding among her peers.

The spiritual pressure of the Golden Sands Prison never exceeded the peak of the second stage of the Concentration Realm, so Zhu Qianqing found passing through this first trial rather effortless.

She replenished her protective spell as needed and pressed forward at full speed.

Just as she was about to reach the entrance to the second prison, the sand underfoot suddenly collapsed. A giant hand, formed entirely of golden sand, shot out and seized a disciple who had been just ahead of her.

Before the disciple could even cry out, the giant hand dragged him beneath the sands.

Zhu Qianqing stopped abruptly. In that fraction of a moment when her attention faltered, a sand blade found its mark, scoring several bloody lines across her flawless cheek.

She recast her protective spell, a slight frown creasing her brow.

The spiritual pressure released by that giant hand had reached the very peak of the second stage of the Concentration Realm. If even she were caught by it, escaping unharmed would be nearly impossible.

Her spiritual energy surged once more. With a flip of her hand, a talisman appeared, instantly transforming into a veil of water that wrapped around her like a fine mist.

With all defenses in place, she darted toward the entrance of the second prison as swiftly as lightning.

Yet, no sooner had her foot touched down than the giant hand erupted from the ground again.

Fortunately, Zhu Qianqing, empowered by her spiritual energy, moved twice as fast as before. The hand grasped nothing but air, though the spiritual pressure shattered the shield conjured by her talisman.

Having missed its mark, the hand dissolved into a storm of golden sand blades, which swept back toward the other disciples.

By then, Zhu Qianqing had already slipped through the stone gate into the second prison. Had she not been fully prepared, she would have emerged battered and bloodied even after her success.

She patted her chest, took several deep breaths, and gradually steadied her nerves.

Glancing back at the struggling disciples, she hesitated no longer, turning to climb the stone steps leading to the second prison.

Meanwhile, atop the monument at the entrance to the Golden Sands Prison, Shen Wan debated whether to move elsewhere.

After all, when he first arrived, he had only glanced around briefly. But upon standing on this slightly elevated monument, he realized there were tens of thousands of people packed into the vast hall—a sea of dark, shifting figures.

"My goodness, why are there so many people here?"

He watched the disciples: some with tattered clothing, some crawling desperately along the ground, most trudging forward with great difficulty.

One disciple’s hands moved gracefully in front of his chest, yet his body was sliced open again and again by some unseen force.

Another disciple roared, his body swelling several times in size as he charged ahead on enormous strides.

A third suddenly conjured an object resembling an iron pot, which spun rapidly above his head.

Others were pinned to the ground by some invisible weight, then vanished in a blink.

...

Shen Wan was puzzled by these bizarre actions and transformations before him.

He felt distinctly out of place among them.

But why?

Dimly, he recalled the words spoken by the shadow in his dream:

"From now on, anything imbued with spiritual power will be as ordinary as air to you. You are the only one in the universe who walks without spiritual power!"

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"A walker without spiritual power..."

If that was true, then the sights driving everyone else to desperate measures were invisible to him? The attacks and injuries they suffered—he would not feel them either?

Simply because... they were formed of spiritual energy?

That was why the elder on the island could fly by sword, yet his blade could not harm Shen Wan in the slightest. Why Lin Xian could leap several meters but couldn’t touch the egg pearl Shen Wan dug out with ease. Why the sect’s wards didn’t affect him, letting him come and go untouched...

A flurry of questions tangled in his mind, but amid the confusion, he grasped the vital thread.

"Because I am... one who walks without spiritual power?"

"So that’s it!"

Shen Wan’s eyes flew open as if waking from a dream. At last, he understood what that shadow in his dream had meant.

"So this is what it means to walk without spiritual power..."

He muttered to himself. If this was true, then what did it matter how high those so-called immortals’ cultivation reached? He could knock them out with a single punch!

It was as if he were a warrior immune to magic in a world of spellcasters—what could be more delightful?

Shen Wan trembled with excitement, then burst out laughing.

Looking again at the crowd, he realized—these so-called immortals were nothing but glass cannons.

He was truly a breath of fresh air in this world of cultivation.

"DEMACIA! One man to conquer the world!"

He pointed skyward, roaring with laughter.

...

Were the shadow from his dream to see this scene, he would surely cover his face in regret and mutter, "Damn, I chose the wrong person!"

But Shen Wan cared little for that. He was simply elated.

He leapt down from the monument, hands clasped behind his back, head held high.

Catching another glimpse of the disciples, his chin was nearly pointed to the heavens.

Now that he understood his condition, why bother hiding? It would be a shame not to flaunt it with such a perfect script.

With that, Shen Wan strode toward the opposite stone gate as if sauntering through a garden.

His flamboyant demeanor left every disciple he passed agape. Even those above the fifth stage of the Concentration Realm could never act so nonchalant.

"Who is that? How can he be so relaxed?"

"Golden embroidered blue robes—that’s a direct disciple! Damn, are the direct disciples really so strong?"

"Look at the emblem on his chest—he’s from the Spells Pavilion. When did the Grand Elder take on another student?"

"The Spells Pavilion?"

A disciple from the Spells Pavilion peered over in curiosity. It was indeed the attire of a direct disciple, but... why had he never seen this person before?

"......"

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As he passed by, all manner of looks—admiring, envious, jealous, and curious—fell upon Shen Wan, and he met them all with a wave and a grin.

Were it not for his status as a direct disciple, many would have been tempted to punch him for his cheeky display.

Soon, Shen Wan crossed the crowd and reached the stone gate to the second prison.

He turned, flashed a gesture of encouragement to the crowd, then, leaving behind what he thought to be a mysterious figure, ascended the stone steps to the next trial.

Behind him, the disciples all spat blood in unison.

The Second Prison of the Tenfold Tower.

Shen Wan, panting heavily, stepped through the new stone gate.

"Good grief, if this breath of fresh air in the Immortal Realm dies climbing stairs, that’ll be the ultimate cosmic joke."

He caught his breath and surveyed the new level. Sure enough, it looked exactly like the previous one.

He grumbled a few curses and, with practiced ease, glanced toward the stone gate.

There, identical to the last, stood a monument inscribed with three large characters...

"Uh..."

It took him a while to decipher them.

"Bramble Prison."

He smacked his lips, at a loss for further complaints.

Scanning the hall, he noticed there were fewer disciples than before.

After climbing several flights of stone stairs, Shen Wan was feeling a bit tired and decided to find a spot to rest.

Just as he considered whether to continue to the back of the monument, he spotted a familiar figure among the crowd.

Lotus Daiying, a junior of the Lotus family, one of the three great clans of the valley.

She was now a class B disciple in the Spells Pavilion of the Owe Profound Sect, but with her cultivation at the second stage of the Concentration Realm, she was considered a bottom-tier student.

Compared to her elder sister, Lotus Dailian of the Elixir Pavilion, Daiying was the family’s underachiever.

Though Dailian specialized in alchemy, she was already at the fifth stage of the Concentration Realm and had long since made a name for herself among the elders. After this contest, she might even become a direct disciple.

Their aunt, Lotus Shiping, was even more renowned in the valley, having reached the Golden Core stage with mastery in warding techniques.

By comparison, Lotus Daiying was almost invisible both at home and in the sect.

She didn’t seem to care, though, and was known for a stubborn and prickly temper. Leveraging her family’s connections, she’d secured a spot as an inspector in the Spells Pavilion’s monitoring group, which made her infamous in the Owe Profound Sect.

But this was not fame of the good kind—so much so that she’d earned a private nickname: Sticky Toadstool.

Anyone she latched onto was guaranteed trouble.

Shen Wan knew nothing of these things. He recognized her at once by her height—barely one meter forty—and her twin ponytails.

He raised his brows, a faint smile curving his lips, and with light steps made his way toward Lotus Daiying.