Earth's Greatest Magus

By the time Emery cleared Level Four, the hall outside the Cosmic Bridge arena had grown noticeably crowded.

What had begun as a routine observation by a handful of grand magus had turned into a spectacle. Word traveled quickly within the Virtual Palace, and the name Emery Ambrose already carried weight, the rumoured savage grand magus who had shaken the Astiel clan. Naturally, many wished to see how far he would go.

Two distinct groups formed among the spectators.

On one side stood those who supported him: Jinkan, Eeshoo, several representatives of the Karat faction; and halfblood grand magus.

Grand Magus Delbrand stood slightly ahead of them all, silent and composed.

Opposite them gathered the Astiel faction and their allies. Their ruler, Darian Astiel, stood with cold dignity, his gaze sharp and unyielding with Ishtar remained at his side.

“He will not complete Level Five,” Darian muttered, barely concealing his hostility. “Impossible.”

Many among his faction nodded in agreement. After all, even their own prodigy Caelthar had remained trapped at Level Four for decades. Only the Astiel’s three elders had ever crossed further.

On the other side, optimism was present-but restrained.

Jinkan’s fingers tightened at her sleeves. She herself had only reached Level Two. Eeshoo had pushed to Level Three, and blocked by Level Four clone capable of deploying a Two Cosmos battlefield domain.

The statistics were public knowledge. Of the more than forty thousand grand magus who had attempted the Thirteen Cosmic Bridges, over half failed to clear Level Three. Most Two Cosmos cultivators stalled at Level Four. Even among Three Cosmos elites, Level Five remained a wall.

Hence, a Two Cosmos grand magus who passes Level Five was acknowledged as a true genius.

“But he fought three Three-Cosmos figures and survived,” one spectator whispered. “Surely he can pass.”

Delbrand uttered nothing. His eyes remained on the projection, and if he felt confidence, he did not show it.

Inside the arena, Emery was already under immense pressure.

From the first exchange, Level Five felt fundamentally different. The clone that stood across from him did not merely match his power-it refined it.

The clash of Excalibur against its mirrored counterpart sent tremors through the bridge. Twilight vines erupted from beneath his feet, only to be countered by identical vines-thicker, faster, and more strategically placed. Spatial bends twisted around him as the clone anticipated his escape routes before he chose them.

The clone was shockingly faster, its blade descending with greater weight and cleaner intent. Every strike landed with ruthless efficiency, every spell woven with flawless timing, forcing Emery backward again and again.

It was both fascinating and deeply unsettling.

He was not merely fighting an opponent-he was facing a version of himself refined by experience, sharpened to its most lethal edge.

“How is this possible?” Emery muttered through clenched teeth as another encounter sent shockwaves rippling across the bridge.

Knowing the importance of this challenge, he abandoned restraint.

A thought flickered across his mind, and the Icarus Wings flared into existence behind him, blazing with golden propulsion. At the same time, the Fourfold Dawn defensive artifacts manifested, layers of radiant barriers spinning into formation around his body.

The surge of power steadied him.

But across the bridge, the clone responded without delay. Identical wings unfolded from its back. Identical defensive constructs spun into place with mechanical perfection.

Even the mountain painting emerged, its illusory peaks descending with uncanny synchronization.

Every artifacts he called forth was mirrored instantly-cleaner, smoother, deployed with slightly superior timing.

Their mountains collided mid-air, shattering into cascading motes of energy.

“You are strong…” Emery breathed, chest rising and falling as he forced himself upright.

He inhaled deeply and made a decision. Artifacts would not decide this.

Though he could not summon his avatars or any living beings from within his domain, he sent a command inward, directing both avatars to channel power from the Khaos gates and the Elysian tree simultaneously.

Deep within his domain, the ancient gates groaned open. The Elysian roots pulsed with vibrant vitality. Energy flooded his core.

The effect was immediate.

His Dao of Heaven and Earth sharpened to a new apex. Darkness and light intertwined in flawless equilibrium, forming a blade intent that trembled on the verge of transcendence. The very bridge beneath him seemed to respond, vibrating under the surge of his elevated comprehension.

He stepped forward, aura roaring.

Yet before he could launch his decisive charge, the clone’s presence expanded

in kind.

A similar surge erupted from its form-not identical in essence, but equal in magnitude. The power radiating from it mirrored his.

“How could it be…?” Emery’s eyes narrowed.

His divine sense sharpened, probing the subtle fluctuations in energy. The signature was artificial, yet astonishingly refined. It was not Khaos. It was not Elysian. It was a constructed replication-an emulation so precise that the difference was nearly imperceptible.

Understanding dawned.

The Virtual Palace did not merely simulate weapons or techniques. It virtualized power at its conceptual level. Even the mysterious forces he believed unique were being interpreted, modeled, and reproduced by the system as if they were nothing more than structured data.

To the Palace, his most secret foundations were simply variables to replicate.

Worse still, the clone’s execution suggested deeper mastery. Its balance between opposing forces was cleaner, its transitions between laws smoother.

Their next clash split the sky.

Heaven-and-Earth blade met its mirrored counterpart. Yet when the dust cleared, it was Emery who staggered half a step.

Dozens of exchanges followed. Sword met sword. Vines entangled and shattered. Space warped, time resisted, domains clashed.

Emery felt his reserves thinning.

His breathing grew uneven. His movements lost their sharp edge.

The clone did not falter.

In a decisive exchange, enhanced twilight vines wrapped around his limbs. He

attempted to sever them, but fatigue had already dulled his edge.

The clone stepped in.

One clean strike.

The blade carved across his chest, and the world shattered into silver

fragments.

Light consumed the arena.

[You have failed to complete Level 5.]

The message lingered in silence.

Emery stood alone in the fading arena, the weight of defeat settling heavily in

his mind.

The clone had not overwhelmed him with greater realm-it had simply executed everything better: cleaner, more refined, more complete. He reflected on his past difficult battles. Again and again, he had relied on

Khaos. On the Elysian Tree. On artifacts that tipped the scale in his favor.

But when stripped down to pure cultivation-something in his foundation was

lacking.

“What is it…?” he muttered.

The virtual world dissolved, and he returned to his physical body within the

secure chamber. The silver sigil on his wrist dimmed slightly.

Delbrand was positioned nearby, watching him.

“Do you understand why you lost?” the senior magus asked calmly.

Emery remained silent, deep in thought.

Delbrand continued, “Do not worry. You are granted seven days to complete

the trial. I can teach you what you lack.”

Seven days.

Emery pondered the offer. The Astiels were waiting for him to fail. The Test of

Faith still loomed. Passing level five was not about pride-it was about survival.

After a moment, he lifted his gaze.

“Thank you, Senior,” he said, steadying his breath. “But let me try once more.”