The storm did not roar—it pulsed.
Shadow stood alone once more, his breath steady, heart racing. Behind him, the thunder gate shimmered with silent approval, the soundless kind only the worthy ever received. The silence carried meaning now, not emptiness.
Ahead, a winding staircase spiraled downward, vanishing into a swirling dome of stormclouds. As he descended, the air thickened, shimmering with unseen Qi—like walking into the breath of a slumbering god.
A voice, softer than thunder but older than time, whispered in his soul:
> *"You have passed the first. Five remain. Each gate is a memory, each memory a scar."*
> *"If you cannot endure them… you cannot carry me."*
Shadow didn't flinch.
He stepped forward.
---
#### **Second Trial – The Blade Without Sound**
Twilight bathed the cracked battlefield in fading purple light. The air smelled of blood and steel. Dozens of shattered weapons littered the ground—none glowing, all broken. Not a single corpse remained, but the weight of death was unmistakable.
Across the clearing stood **a version of himself**—younger, eyes fierce, wild, untamed. Reckless. Hungry. Pride without wisdom. Shadow stared at his former self, and the echo raised his blade, lips curled in contempt.
The voice echoed again:
> *"This was the day I broke my first promise. I let pride lead me. I slaughtered an army… including my own kin."*
No further warning came.
The younger Shadow dashed forward, blade trailing crackling arcs of unrefined lightning. Every swing was feral. Every movement screamed of impatience.
Shadow met the first strike with a firm parry. Sparks flew.
The second cut grazed his ribs. The third forced him back.
This illusion wasn't just a shadow—it was a warning. This was who he could've become, if left unchecked. A storm with no direction. A weapon with no conscience.
Blood seeped from Shadow's arm, but he never raised his voice.
He dodged another strike, let his blade lower. His opponent hesitated.
He whispered:
> "I'm not you anymore."
The illusion snarled, confused, then cracked—like glass under pressure—and shattered into motes of light.
He did not win with strength.
He won with truth.
---
#### **Third Trial – The Eye of Judgment**
Now he stood within a floating coliseum forged from clouds. Above, around, and below—**thousands of ghostly eyes** turned toward him, unblinking.
Then came the voices:
> *"Failure!"*
> *"Your sect is ashes!"*
> *"You abandoned your master's dream!"*
Each word was a dagger to the heart.
His knees bent. Pain welled in his chest.
The voices weren't lies.
They were truths he had buried—failures that haunted him in the quiet hours between battles.
He clenched his fists. Looked up at them.
"I carry their hopes," he said, voice trembling. "I carry my shame too."
The voices grew louder.
> *"You let them die!"*
> *"You weren't strong enough!"*
His jaw clenched.
"I know."
> *"You're unworthy!"*
"I KNOW!" he roared.
"But I will not stop!"
He stood tall, eyes burning.
"I'll carry every burden. I'll turn it into strength. I'll build something worthy atop what I failed to protect."
The voices went silent.
The coliseum vanished.
A new path emerged.
---
#### **Fourth Trial – Sovereign's Grief**
Now he stood in a garden cast in eternal dusk. Thunderflowers bloomed with soft pulses, their petals whispering songs of sorrow.
A woman sat on a stone bench at the far end. Her robes shimmered with silver and blue, her hair flowing like rain over her shoulders. Her face was serene, but her aura pulsed with grief deep enough to drown in.
> *"This was where I failed her."*
> *"The Thunder Lord once loved. And that love was taken."*
The woman looked at him.
"Would you trade the storm for peace?" she asked, voice tender. Almost pleading.
Shadow hesitated. "Peace sounds beautiful. But peace without strength... is a promise easily broken."
Her eyes shimmered with tears.
"I once asked him the same. He chose war."
She stood, and in one blink, her form twisted—morphing into a demonic wraith of shadow and flame, eyes burning with betrayal.
"You chose WAR!" she screamed, hurling a volley of claws and thunder blades.
Shadow didn't dodge.
He stepped into the strike, grabbed her wrist mid-air, and looked straight into her eyes.
"I chose to survive. To protect what I can. I can't undo the past—but I won't let grief become my cage."
The claws vanished. Her fury melted into mist. She looked at him one last time—half-smile, half-tear.
And disappeared.
---
#### **Fifth Trial – Storm's Resentment**
He stood on a narrow pillar of stone—alone. The sky above churned with storms so vast they swallowed stars. Thunder cracked across the void. And from within that sky, a massive eye spun slowly—watching.
The wind became a hurricane. The clouds bellowed with rage.
> *"You do not belong here."*
Lightning struck at him.
He didn't move.
> *"You are not worthy."*
The pillar cracked. Blood ran down his leg.
> *"You are NOT the Thunder Lord's heir!"*
He looked up, breathing hard.
"I never claimed his name," Shadow whispered.
"I am Shadow… of the Verdant Moon Sect."
Another bolt slammed into his chest. He coughed blood—but stayed standing.
"I do not need to be chosen. I will walk the storm with my own feet."
The eye narrowed.
Another bolt.
He raised a hand.
And caught it.
> *Echo Devour.*
The lightning vanished into his veins.
The eye closed.
---
Darkness returned.
Then… a whisper. No longer judgmental. No longer cruel.
> *"Then walk the last path."*
---
Shadow opened his eyes.
He was back in the shared arena.
Jian Mu stood nearby, watching with wide eyes.
Zhen Yue, Wei Lin, Feng Ao, Yu Bailing… they had just arrived, worn but intact.
But Shadow was different.
The others saw it. They felt it.
Not just power.
*Weight.*
A presence that didn't exist before.
Shadow didn't speak.
He simply stepped forward.
His trials of memory were over.
What came next would not be introspection or grief.
It would be war.
---