Villains Aren't Stepping Stones!

Chapter 104: Chapter 104: The Second Trial

The humid, emerald-tinted air of the central clearing seemed to ripple with the sheer density of the qi emanating from the three figures standing by the basalt altar.

Shen Haoran leaned back against a gnarled, purple-leafed tree, his golden eyes drifting toward Ling Luochen

The leaderboard in the sky still pulsed with a dominant light, and he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of genuine interest in the girl’s progress.

”I’m impressed,” Haoran said, his voice smooth and carrying a weight of rare approval. ”You actually managed to hunt a Rank 4 beast. That is equivalent to a human cultivator at the Golden Core realm. For someone at the peak of Foundation Establishment to bring down such a creature is no small feat. Not to mention demonic beasts are far stronger than humans at the same level.”

Ling Luochen, however, did not puff out her chest with pride. Instead, she lowered her head slightly, her blood-red eyes reflecting a modest, grounded reality as she shook her head gently. ”It was all luck, young master. I do not wish to claim a glory I haven’t fully earned with strength alone. That beast—a Silver-Haired Crag Ape—was already injured and dying from a previous territorial dispute. I only used hit-and-run guerrilla tactics to reopen its wounds and exhaust it to death. If it had been at full strength, I would have likely been the one fleeing.”

”In the path of cultivation, luck is a form of strength in itself,” Haoran countered, his gaze unwavering. ”Knowing when to strike a weakened foe and having the patience to bleed them out shows a tactical mind. That is still very impressive. Well done.”

Ling Luochen stared at Haoran, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice. A soft, rare smile touched her lips, and a faint tint of pink colored her cheeks.

”...Thank you for the compliment, young master. I will strive to be more worthy of it in the next stage.”

”Hm.” Haoran nodded.

Just then...

”Someone’s coming,” Shangguan Mu’er interrupted, her voice like cold silk as her Nascent Soul senses had already picked up the frantic vibrations of footsteps approaching the clearing.

Just then, a young man emerged from the dense foliage.

He was covered in mud and gasping for air, his robes torn to ribbons, but the moment his eyes landed on Shen Haoran’s group—standing there with such terrifying composure—he was paralyzed by a visceral dread.

His first instinct was to turn and flee back into the shadows, but the ticking clock of the trial forced him to swallow his terror.

He cupped his hands in respect towards Haoran and the others as he stumbled toward the altar, his hands trembling as he offered his meager collection of cores.

Haoran watched the youth’s frantic movements with clinical indifference before turning back to his companions. ”There’s only a few minutes left in the hour. The pretenders have been weeded out by the beasts. Only those who are truly confident they’ve passed should be heading here right now.”

As if on cue, the forest began to disgorge more survivors.

At first, it was a trickle, then a steady stream of dozens of cultivators.

Just like the first young man, they all experienced a moment of heart-stopping fear when they saw the three standing by the altar.

However, seeing that there was one person there and that Haoran made no move to attack them, they calmed themselves and hurried to register their kills.

Haoran observed each one with a predatory focus, his mind searching for one specific presence.

’Where is he?’ he wondered. ’Hm, as the protagonist, surely he’d arrive when the time is about to end, right? Typical.’

At that moment, a larger group arrived—several dozen cultivators from the Northern sects, including some elite disciples of the Sky Water Sect.

This group showed significantly less fear; the safety in numbers and the presence of so many others already at the altar gave them a false sense of security.

They jostled for position, desperate to secure a spot in the top ten.

At the very back of this bustling crowd, a man wearing a tattered, mud-stained cloak walked with a silent, ghost-like gait.

His whole face was shrouded by a deep hood, and he kept his head lowered, blending perfectly into the shadows of the larger group.

He didn’t radiate power, as if he was trying his best to remain as ordinary as possible and avoid any attention.

However, for Haoran, that act of purposely hiding oneself is the brightest beacon you can light.

He stared at the hooded figure and smirked, before turning his gaze away in amusement.

Time ticked away.

The frantic energy at the altar began to reach a fever pitch, and as more high-quality cores were turned in, the leaderboard shifted violently.

People who thought they were safe at number eight or nine suddenly found themselves pushed off the list, letting out curses of despair and frustration.

Even Ling Luochen was not immune to the competition.

A series of powerful entries pushed her down the ranks until she settled at the number five spot.

The person who had surged into the number three position, just below Haoran and Mu’er, was Xue Bing’er, who had arrived with a cold aura and a mountain of frozen cores.

Eventually, the crowd thinned until only the man in the cloak remained.

He stepped up to the altar with a deliberate, slow movement as he reached into his cloak and poured a massive quantity of low-level cores into the basin.

As the light flared and absorbed the cores, the golden words in the emerald sky flickered and updated one last time.

10. 718 Rank 1 Beasts, 331 Rank 2 Beasts.

It was a sheer quantity play.

While he hadn’t hunted high-ranking monsters, the sheer volume of his kills was enough to squeeze into the final slot.

Instantly, a glowing number ’10’ manifested on the back of the cloaked man’s hand.

BOOM!

Just then, a thunderous sound, like a gong struck by a god, echoed throughout the entire secret realm, silencing the wind and the forest.

”The first trial is complete! Those who have secured a rank shall be transported to the Inner Sanctum. Those who have failed... begone from my realm!”

Shen Haoran felt the number ’1’ on the back of his hand begin to glow with a searing heat as the world around him began to dissolve into a kaleidoscope of light.

He looked around and saw that Ling Luochen, Mu’er, and the others were experiencing the same phenomenon; some of the weaker cultivators were panicking, reaching out into the void as their bodies turned translucent.

Haoran merely crossed his arms and closed his eyes, his breathing steady.

Then, he felt a sudden, weightless sensation, as if he were floating through a sea of stars.

This lasted for several minutes, and when his boots finally touched solid ground again, the humid forest was gone.

At this moment, he found himself standing on the cold, grey stone of a massive, circular arena.

The ceiling was lost in a swirling vortex of golden clouds, and the walls were lined with towering statues of warriors holding spears.

Beside him stood the other nine survivors, including the cold Xue Bing’er and the ’mysterious’ cloaked man.

Just then, he majestic voice boomed once more, now sounding more expectant, more lethal.

”The Second Trial: The Duel of Fate! In the path to the peak, there is only room for the strongest. From the ten of you, only five shall pass. Your opponents have been chosen by the threads of destiny, dictated by the numbers upon your hands!”

Suddenly, massive golden numbers materialized in the air above the arena floor.

FIRST BATTLE: NUMBER 1 VS NUMBER 4!

Shen Haoran didn’t wait for a second invitation as he leaped onto the elevated center of the arena with a single, effortless motion.

He didn’t even bother looking at the entrance for Number 4. For him, in this lower realm, an opponent was simply an obstacle to be cleared, regardless of their name or sect.

Although, he did felt a minor twinge of disappointment that it wasn’t the cloaked man—Jiang Chen—but he pushed it aside.

The inheritance is the priority. He can flay that rat after he is done with this.

Just then, the ground vibrated as a massive figure jumped into the arena. It was a giant of a man, standing at least 250cm tall.

His upper body was bare, revealing muscles that looked like knotted iron cables, and his bald head caught the golden light of the clouds.

He carried a heavy, spiked mace that looked like it weighed as much as a mountain.

Haoran scanned him. Peak of the Golden Core realm. A physical cultivator. High vitality, low agility.

”I am Nuo—” the giant began, his voice deep and booming as he prepared to announce his lineage.

”Let’s just get this over with,” Haoran interrupted, letting out a small, bored sigh.

He didn’t even draw his sword, simply standing with his hands tucked into his sleeves.

”START!” the Saint’s voice roared.

The giant Nuo let out a guttural scream, his muscles bulging as he swung the massive mace, the air whistling with the force of a hurricane as he charged toward the small, midnight-blue figure of Shen Haoran.