Bai Xeitian's eyes flicked sharply from one direction to another, his gaze slicing through layers of cloud and qi as he scanned the surroundings with ruthless vigilance.

Someone was here.

He could feel it.

A faint fluctuation—subtle, elusive, like a ripple brushed across the surface of still water. The presence wasn't strong, yet it was unmistakably real. And no matter how he probed, no matter how he expanded his divine sense, he could not lock onto its exact position.

This is bad.

The realization struck him like cold water.

Bai Xeitian's expression tightened almost imperceptibly, but inside, alarm bells were ringing violently. He was not some half-baked ascender or newly forged immortal. Though he had yet to formally enter an Immortal River, he was already a true Immortal Realm cultivator—his mortal shell refined into a self-contained Immortal Kingdom, his body a walking domain.

And yet…

Immortal light shimmered faintly around him, not flaring outward in aggression, but folding inward, gathering, compressing. It was the posture of someone preparing to leave, not fight.

"What in the world…?" he muttered under his breath.

Hidden within the void, Wang Chen observed the shift with razor-sharp clarity.

As someone who had mastered peak escape techniques like One Thought to Cross the World, he immediately recognized the signs. Space around Bai Xeitian was subtly contracting, folding in on itself like silk being drawn through a ring. This wasn't a prelude to an attack.

It was preparation for retreat.

If not for that unmistakable spatial distortion, Wang Chen might have assumed Bai Xeitian was about to strike.

And that was what truly confused him.

Why would he flee?

From Bai Xeitian's perspective, Wang Chen was nothing more than a Foundation Establishment cultivator—an ant standing beneath an immortal's shadow. What threat could he possibly pose?

Of course, that question existed only because Wang Chen didn't yet understand the full weight of the Upper Realm's fear.

After the fall of the Nether Realm and the collapse of the reincarnation cycle, death had changed.

There were no more retries.

No more second chances.

No rebirth, no soul recycling, no quiet return through the river of samsara.

Death had become absolute.

And when immortality no longer guaranteed resurrection, survival became sacred.

Cultivators of the Upper Realm no longer gambled lightly—not even when victory seemed assured. Even the smallest uncertainty, the faintest unknown variable, was enough to make an immortal choose retreat over dominance.

Because now—

Even immortals could die for real.

Cultivators of the Upper Realm always left themselves an escape route.

Survival came before pride. Always.

Just as the spatial folds around Bai Xeitian tightened to an unprecedented degree, Wang Chen knew he could no longer remain silent. If he let the immortal complete his retreat, he might lose his only chance to gather information about the Upper Realm's current state.

So he intervened.

His voice drifted out gently from the void, soft and unhurried, carrying no hostility whatsoever.

"There is no need to be afraid, fellow Daoist. I am merely… somewhat shy. I do not enjoy revealing myself unless absolutely necessary. I hope you will understand—and not take offense."

The words were polite. Almost apologetic.

Behind them, however, Wang Chen's mind was moving rapidly.

After careful consideration, he had decided to abandon the "ancient hidden expert" persona for now. It was too risky. He lacked critical information about the Upper Realm, its factions, its customs, and its dangers. Pretending to be an unfathomable senior in such an environment was an invitation to disaster.

Instead, he chose a safer role.

A young, ambitious cultivator striving upward.

It was believable. It was flexible. And most importantly—it bought him room to make mistakes without drawing lethal suspicion.

"…"

A long silence followed.

The void itself seemed to stretch, tense and watchful.

Bai Xeitian did not speak, but his eyes gleamed sharply. The faint tension in his posture eased, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. Wang Chen's words confirmed what he had already suspected—someone really was hiding nearby, and his instincts had not betrayed him.

As if responding to his improved mood, Bai Xeitian's long, snow-white hair stirred gently, lifting as immortal qi circulated more freely through his body.

Then, without warning, he threw his head back and laughed.

"Kekeke! No problem at all, fellow Daoist!" His laughter rang out bright and unrestrained. "In times like these, caution is a virtue. Honestly, I should learn a thing or two from you."

His earlier cold vigilance melted away, replaced by an unexpectedly friendly demeanor. When he spoke again, there was even a hint of playful curiosity in his tone.

"To cross so many danger zones just to arrive here…" Bai Xeitian's eyes flickered meaningfully. "Fellow Daoist, you must also be here to attend the Morning Glory Divine Alchemical Sect's ten-thousand-year recurring ceremony, correct?"

"Exactly."

Wang Chen replied without hesitation, his tone calm and confident.

Not a single blink betrayed him—

even though he had never refined a pill in his entire life.

After Wang Chen's confirmation, Bai Xeitian visibly relaxed. The faint vigilance that had clung to him earlier dissolved almost completely, replaced by an easy, talkative enthusiasm. He began speaking as if he had finally found a companion worth conversing with.

For Wang Chen, this was the best possible outcome.

He remained mostly silent, responding only when necessary, carefully playing the role of an attentive listener. Behind his calm exterior, however, his mind worked tirelessly, dissecting every word, every implication, every casual remark Bai Xeitian let slip.

Information flowed freely.

The Upper Realm had changed.

The fall of the Nether Realm and the collapse of the reincarnation cycle had shaken even the immortals. Survival had become paramount. Alliances were fragile. Sect rivalries sharper than ever. Even ancient powers were moving cautiously now, unwilling to gamble their lives without certainty.

Bai Xeitian spoke for more than two full hours before finally pausing, his expression brightening as he pointed toward a distant region veiled in luminous clouds.

"There," he said with unmistakable pride. "The Morning Glory Divine Alchemical Sect."

Wang Chen followed the direction of his gesture. Even without seeing the sect clearly, he could feel it—the overwhelming presence of refined qi, orderly yet vast, like a sleeping sun restrained by invisible laws.

One of the top ten powers of the Upper Realm.

And now… recruiting disciples.

Wang Chen felt a quiet thrill ripple through him.

Perfect timing.

If he had arrived even a little earlier or later, this opportunity might have slipped past him entirely. Now, all that remained was to determine the nature of the test.

If it aligned with his strengths, he might actually participate—no matter how slim the odds were.

After all, how often did a Foundation Establishment cultivator get the chance to stand on the same stage as immortals?

As these thoughts churned in his mind, time flowed onward.

Every hour or so, new figures descended upon the area. Some arrived alone, traveling through folded space like wandering stars. Others came in small groups, their auras interwoven with subtle coordination. Each newcomer maintained a respectful distance, neither approaching too closely nor openly challenging the others.

Unspoken rules governed the gathering.

Strength was acknowledged. Curiosity was restrained.

And so, over the next several hours, what had once been an empty expanse transformed into a silent congregation of monsters.

Dozens became hundreds.

And each new arrival radiated pressure equal to—or greater than—Bai Xeitian's.

"…So many immortals," Wang Chen muttered inwardly, swallowing hard.

He could deceive one or two. Maybe even a handful.

But this many?

The risk of exposure rose sharply with every passing hour.

Still, nervousness did not become fear.

Even surrounded by immortals, Wang Chen knew he wasn't helpless. He still had trump cards—ones no one here could anticipate.

Without anyone truly noticing, days slipped by.

By the time Wang Chen finally took stock of his surroundings again, the scale of the gathering had become staggering. The number of cultivators waiting near the Morning Glory Divine Alchemical Sect had surpassed a thousand—and it continued to grow.

The air itself felt heavier, saturated with immortal intent.

A storm was forming.

And Wang Chen stood quietly at its center, waiting to see whether it would lift him toward the heavens—or crush him beneath their weight.

By now, the quiet tension of waiting had transformed into something closer to a gathering. Conversations rose everywhere, overlapping voices forming a low, constant hum that filled the air like distant thunder.

Wang Chen subtly shifted his focus, tuning out the noise and listening carefully.

"Among all the top ten powers," one cultivator said with clear admiration, "the Morning Glory Divine Alchemical Sect is the only one that truly doesn't discriminate. Race, background, lineage—it doesn't matter. As long as you can prove your qualification, anyone can enter and enjoy the resources of one of the strongest powers under heaven."

Another voice scoffed nearby.

"Easy for you to say. You make it sound like a blessing. Compared to the others, Morning Glory's entrance test is also the most brutal. They don't bar the door—but they make damn sure only monsters walk through it. Who knows how they'll test us this time?"

Murmurs of agreement spread quickly. Anxiety and excitement tangled together, each feeding the other.

Wang Chen absorbed everything in silence.

No discrimination… but absolute standards.

That fit perfectly with what he had seen so far.

Just as the discussions grew louder, the world itself seemed to respond.

Crack—

The sky fractured like a shattered mirror.

A blinding line tore across the heavens, and from within it descended a colossal golden pillar, blazing with ancient runes. The pillar slammed into the void with divine authority, its presence alone suppressing the chatter below into stunned silence.

Atop the pillar sat a single figure.

A young man, dressed in plain green robes, his posture relaxed yet impossibly dignified. He appeared youthful, almost ordinary—but the moment Wang Chen's eyes fell upon him, his breath hitched.

This was no ordinary immortal.

The air bent subtly around the man's presence, as though the laws of heaven themselves were adjusting their stance.

Even Bai Xeitian—arrogant, proud Bai Xeitian—bowed deeply without hesitation.

Wang Chen followed suit at once, lowering his head along with the rest of the gathered cultivators.

No one dared remain standing.

In that instant, every soul present understood the same truth:

The Morning Glory Divine Alchemical Sect had arrived—and the test was about to begin.

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