Chapter 130: Trials of Spear IX
The disciples gasped. Some staggered back, trembling, unable to meet the weight of his intent. A few fell to their knees, crushed not by qi but by the sheer will embedded in the art.
He did not stop.
The second form unfurled, a sweeping arc heavy with Death. Darkness laced the strike, carrying the sense of endings, of inevitability. Vines of qi that lingered from earlier disciples’ performances withered to dust in its wake.
The third form followed—Soul blazing forth. It resonated in the marrow of every witness, as if the spear itself whispered: I see you. I cut you. I divide what you are from what you pretend to be.
Seven strokes in all he demonstrated—each one distinct, yet harmonized by the triad of Gold, Death, and Soul. Together they roared with a rhythm that was not borrowed from any scroll or sect, but carved from Tian Lei’s own truth.
By the time he stilled, his spear lowered, the hall was hushed into near-reverence. The crack across the floor still glowed faintly with starlight, proof that it was not illusion.
The disciples stared—some in awe, some in fear, none daring to speak.
The elder’s expression was unreadable, but his silence lingered far longer than with any other. His eyes, for the first time that day, betrayed something rare: not just scrutiny, but the faintest glimmer of astonishment.
Tian Lei exhaled, steady, his lips curling into the faint ghost of a smile.
"...This is the spear I forged."
The words hung in the hall, undeniable.
However the Elder was looking at him, as if seeing a ghost after all, not only he merged powers nine ans ten star affinities in the spear art but also comprehended the Spear intent in such short amount of time.
’A monster, he is an monster!!’ Elder thought but he kept his surprise to him as he said " if nothing show something better than you, then once again you have rnaked first" Elder said as Tian Lei nodded and left.
The elder’s words echoed through the chamber, and silence reigned once more.
One by one, the remaining candidates stepped forward. Each brought something of merit—blades that burned like suns, shields shimmering with gold affinities, even one who unleashed a dazzling spear art that sent whispers rippling through the crowd.
But none of them reached that height.
The elder’s gaze lingered, each demonstration dissected with ruthless precision. He noted brilliance where it shone, but each time his eyes drifted—always back to where Tian Lei had stood.
One candidate in particular drew brief attention: a youth wreathed in golden light, his seven-star affinity radiating like a beacon. His spear art split the air with a sharp, almost divine momentum, enough to make even seasoned onlookers catch their breath. His confidence brimmed as he concluded, casting a proud glance toward the elder.
Whispers spread: Seven-star gold... such a rarity! Surely he...
But the elder’s expression remained stone. He let the silence linger just long enough to smother that pride before he finally spoke.
"...A flash of brilliance, nothing more. Your foundation is shallow. You mistake light for depth."
The youth froze, his face paling. He opened his mouth as if to argue, but under the elder’s piercing gaze, the words withered in his throat.
The elder closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. His judgment was final.
The elder closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. His judgment was final.
At last, the chamber stirred again. Murmurs rose—not of the golden youth, but of the final name yet to be called.
Long Aotian.
When he stepped forward, the air shifted. His aura was calm, unshakable, like a spear planted in the earth that no storm could bend.
The weapon in his hand gleamed with a faint azure hue, refined and tempered through countless battles. His first motion was slow—deliberate. Then, in a breath, his spear exploded into motion.
Thunder cracked. Wind howled. Each thrust carried with it the force to shatter mountains; each sweep etched arcs of brilliance across the chamber. His spear intent was clear—majestic, steady, commanding. It was not raw power, nor fleeting flash, but the discipline of someone who had lived with the spear as an extension of his soul.
The candidates gasped. Even the most jaded elders leaned forward, their gazes sharpening.
When the final strike landed, the echoes of thunder still lingered, rattling through the bones of those watching. Long Aotian lowered his spear, his expression calm but eyes sharp—challenging, awaiting the elder’s words.
For a long moment, the elder did not speak. He weighed, he measured. Finally, his eyes flicked—just once—back to the place where Tian Lei had stood.
"...A prodigy indeed," the elder said at last, his voice heavy. "But even mountains cast shadows before the sun. And Tian Lei... is the sun this day."
The words struck deeper than any spear thrust. Long Aotian’s lips tightened, his jaw set, but he did not argue. He simply saluted with his spear and stepped back.
’That bastard, I need to kill him or the legacy will go out of my hand’ Long Aotian face was calm but not his thoughts as he looked at Tian lei with veiled killing intent.
Long Aotian’s killing intent flickered for but a heartbeat before vanishing behind the mask of composure. Few noticed—but Tian Lei, calm as still water, caught the faint ripple and filed it away in silence.
The elder, however, gave no room for schemes. His voice rolled through the chamber, deep and commanding.
"The second phase is concluded."
Every disciple straightened, their nerves taut as bowstrings.
"You have revealed your foundations—your affinities, your crude grasp of spear intent. But the spear is not merely light, flame, or thunder. It is will. It is life. And only those whose will can stand against another’s shall be worthy of the next path."
Murmurs rippled. Faces turned pale, others flushed with excitement.
The elder raised his hand, and the air itself seemed to still.
"The third phase begins now. One against one. Spear against spear. You will clash only with the art you have cultivated—no talismans, no tricks, no external crutches. Victory will not be measured in blood spilled, but in the breaking of intent. Whoever falters... loses."