The carriages did not go straight to the city gates; they first stopped in the center of the Magical City, where the Grey Shadow Hall kept its watch. Its dark stone towers rose like blades against the morning sky, with flags waving that displayed a coiled serpent in silver thread. Even in daylight, the hall had an air of mystery, a fortress built to protect against hidden threats.

When the Osborn convoy arrived, the guards at the gates stood at attention, their faces hidden behind black masks. The gates opened without a word, and the carriages rolled into the inner courtyard.

Robert stepped out first, scanning the dark halls with quiet caution. Every cultivator here radiated suppressed power; their presence honed for killing and shadow work. His own qi stirred in response, but he kept it steady.

It did not take long before Elder Delvin appeared. His presence announced itself even before he walked into view—an oppressive pressure that slid along the skin like a blade's edge. His figure was tall and lean, his hair streaked with silver, and his eyes like molten iron. Though his robes were simple, their weight was heavier than armor.

John Osborn stepped forward, clasping his hands respectfully. "Elder Delvin."

The elder gave a curt nod. "Clan Head John. You kept me waiting no longer than you should." His gaze swept the gathered disciples, sharp as a hawk's. "So these are the seedlings you intend to present to Celestial Brook City."

Robert bowed deeply. "Elder."

Delvin's expression remained unreadable, though a flicker of approval crossed his eyes. Without another word, he moved toward the first carriage and took his seat beside John. Only once the carriages rumbled forward again did his voice finally break the silence.

"How are the preparations?"

John's reply was steady. "We have prepared well. Supplies are secured, our disciples trained, and our routes guarded."

Delvin gave a low hum. "Good. But remember—each step in Celestial Brook City is laid with hidden blades. Each misstep will cost the Osborns dearly."

"I am aware," John said, his tone calm but firm.

For a while, silence fell. Then Delvin's sharp gaze turned toward the rear carriage where Robert sat. "And you, young heir—are you ready to shoulder your clan's name? This is not a stage for boys. The city will devour the weak."

Robert met his gaze without flailing. "I will not let my clan down. Whatever awaits, I will face it."

A faint, almost invisible smile tugged at the elder's lips. He leaned back, saying no more.

The road stretched on. The forest grew denser, shadows lengthening under the midday sun. At one point, a ripple of killing intent stirred among the trees, the kind of formless threat that made the hair rise on the neck.

The guards tensed instantly, qi flaring and hands on their blades. As each eye scanned the greenery, the disciples held their breath.

Then, without warning, a pale wisp of spiritual light emerged from the woods—shaped like a distorted figure, its eyes hollow voids. A Soul Manifestation phantom.

The spirit shrieked, rushing toward the convoy. The spirit beasts pulling the carriages reared, snarling as their qi surged. Before any disciple could move, Delvin's sleeve flicked. A single stroke of his qi lashed through the air, sharp as lightning.

The phantom's fading cry lingered only as smoke, swept away by the breeze. Silence settled over the convoy, heavier than steel. The younger disciples clenched their fists, shame flickering in their eyes—none had even managed to react before Elder Delvin's effortless strike erased the threat.

Not a single cultivator in the convoy drew their weapons. They only watched in silence as the elder lowered his hand again, his expression unchanged.

"Not every danger on this road wears flesh," Delvin said coldly.

"Remember this when you step into the city. Enemies often strike where you cannot see."

The lesson sank deep. Robert's jaw tightened. He understood—the competition ahead would not only test strength but also foresight.

After that, the road passed without incident. Hours slid by, the wheels clattering steadily, the beasts' breaths misting the cool air. Tension remained sharp, but the danger did not return.

Finally, across the horizon, the tall walls of Celestial Brook City appeared. Towers gleamed in the last of the light, their flags fluttering in the wind. Here, more than anywhere else Robert had ever been, the hum of qi was heavy in the air. A wave of ambition and power swept through the great gates as traders, farmers, and tourists arrived.

Inside the carriage, Robert felt his heart beat harder. His hand curled into a fist on his knee. This was it—the beginning of the trial his family had placed upon his shoulders.

The Osborn convoy rolled forward, their flags displayed proudly for all to see. The journey was over. The test was about to begin.

The enormity of the city hit them as they neared the gates. The walls were more than mere stone; they were bolstered by layers of intricate markings, each radiating a subtle defensive qi glow. Towers topped the battlements, and guards in gleaming armor kept watch, their cultivation levels significantly lower than those of the regular foot soldiers. Celestial Brook was marked by every detail, a realm where only the powerful dared to speak.

The closer they drew, the more the pulse of the city pressed against them—a living force that seemed to measure every soul who entered. Even the air was charged, the faint buzz of spiritual energy rippling over Robert's skin like static.

As you walk down the roadside, you can hear vendors shouting excitedly, trying to sell their beast pelts and talismans. In the open courtyards of the smaller sects, young cultivators are battling it out, their qi bursting forth like a brilliant fireworks display.

Brook wasn't just a city—it was a proving ground, where every breath, every deal, every clash of blades carried weight.

Robert caught sight of a group of armored disciples near a side gate, their robes marked with the Walker Clan's insignia. They paused mid-conversation, eyes narrowing at the passing Osborn convoy. A sneer played at one man's lips before he turned away, dismissing them with a scoff.

John noticed too, but his expression didn't change. "Let them look," he said quietly. "A lion doesn't answer the bark of dogs."

Elder Delvin gave a faint nod of approval.

Robert's blood stirred—not in anger, but in resolve. The city's eyes were on them, watching, judging. He could almost feel its challenge whispered through the wind.

So be it, he thought. Let them see how long the Osborn flame can burn.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.