Chapter 80: The Lord Varelith

Deep within the darkest recesses of Phantom Valley, Jin Wu walked with shaky but purposeful strides, his thoughts a turbulent storm. The elder's command replayed in his mind repeatedly, the weight of his failures pressing on his chest like a mountain. The Hell Bound Pit... Even as he resolved to endure, a faint chill coursed through him.

The path to the Hell Bound Pit wound through jagged ravines and ancient forests, the air thick with spiritual energy that carried an oppressive weight. This was no ordinary place; it was a forbidden realm designed to strip away one's humanity, leaving only raw, unyielding power, granting one a berserker state if they made it out alive .

Jin Wu halted at the edge of a cliff overlooking the abyss below. A faint, otherworldly glow rose from the pit's depths, a haunting light that flickered like dying embers. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional wail of the wind as it snaked through the crevices.

From this height, he could see the faint outlines of the pit's terrors: jagged spikes protruding from its walls, glowing pools of corrosive liquid, and shadowy figures that moved within its depths. Each element of the pit seemed designed to kill, a testament to the church's merciless philosophy.

Jin Wu drew a deep breath, his hand brushing the hilt of his weapon—a black blade forged from the remains of a Voidsteel serpent, its edge keen enough to cut through Enchanted tier shields. It was a reminder of his past triumphs, a sliver of confidence in an otherwise harrowing future.

"Summon a Spirit Projection and emerge stronger" Elder Shenyin had said. Jin Wu clenched his fists. This was not a challenge he could avoid. It was the only path forward, the only way to redeem himself in the eyes of the church—and in his own. Without hesitation, he stepped forward, vanishing into the abyss below his voice echoing in the air behind him.

"Umbral Severance!"

-

Across the valley, deep within it grounds, Hang Cai stood at the base of a treacherous mountain range, the Thousand Ridges looming before him like a sleeping beast. Each peak seemed to claw at the heavens, their jagged summits shrouded in thick clouds. This was no ordinary mountain range; it was a labyrinth of shifting paths, deadly traps, and territorial demonic beasts that were as strong as late stage Golden Core Realm Practitioners.

The task Elder Shenyin had given him was clear: retrieve a Demonshade Heart, a rare and volatile spiritual herb known for its ability to catalyze breakthroughs in cultivation. Yet, the heart was not something to be plucked from the earth—it was guarded by a Demonshade Wyvern, a creature of pure malice and unmatched ferocity.

Hang Cai's heart thundered in his chest as he tightened the straps of his armor. His gaze flicked to the twin blades at his sides, their runes shimmering faintly. Each weapon was a masterpiece, imbued with spiritual energy designed to counter powerful foes, like Jin Wu's weapon, they were also Mythic Tier. Yet, as formidable as his weapons were, he knew they were mere tools. Success would demand far more than skill; it would require cunning, resolve, and a willingness to embrace death.

Being the stronger of the two, Hang Cai faced a far harsher punishment for failure than Jin Wu. The distinction lay in Hang Cai's awakened spirit projection—a manifestation that not only enhanced his combat prowess but also actively assisted him in battle. This rare ability was considered a crucial stepping stone, often serving as the gateway to the revered Nascent Soul realm, a milestone that many cultivators could only dream of reaching.

As he began his ascent, the air grew thin, each breath a laborious effort. The path narrowed, and the ground beneath his feet crumbled with every step. Yet, he pressed on, his mind steeled by the elder's words. Failure was not an option.

Hours passed as Hang Cai navigated the perilous terrain. Along the way, he encountered lesser beasts—shadow panthers and venomous cloud serpents—that leaped from the mist. Each skirmish tested his stamina, his blades flashing in arcs of silver as he fought with the precision of a seasoned warrior. By the time he reached the heart of the ridges, his body was bruised and bloodied, yet his resolve remained unbroken.

The air here was different, charged with an ominous energy that prickled his skin. Hang Cai's eyes narrowed as he spotted it—a cavern entrance wreathed in dark mist. The Demonshade Wyvern was inside. His hands tightened around the hilts of his blades, and without hesitation, he stepped into the darkness. Behind his back, a large serpent appeared, it's body looking like something that was stuck between illusionary and real, it's eyes glowed a blood red as Hang Cai's aura shapely spiked.

In the previous generation, Jin Wu had been the third strongest among his peers, with Hang Cai ranking just above him as the second strongest. Towering over them both was the undisputed number one—a cultivator whose talent and strength bordered on breaking through to the Nascent Soul realm. Yet, for reasons unknown, he remained unable to take that final step.

Currently, he was on a mission assigned by the Celestial Church, one that would determine his future. If successful, he would ascend to the esteemed rank of elder. If not, his failure would be his undoing. Such were the unforgiving ways of the Celestial Church, where triumph forged legends, and failure left only ashes.

-

Meanwhile, within the heart of Phantom Valley, Elder Shenyin convened with the other three leaders of the Celestial Shadow Church in a grand, shadowy chamber. Each leader was a master of their craft, their power and influence woven into the fabric of the organization. They sat around an ember table etched with glowing runes, their faces obscured by ornate masks.

The Celestial Shadow Church adhered to a rigid hierarchy, with leadership divided into five distinct tiers. At the lowest rung were the elders, tasked with overseeing the church's immediate affairs. Above them stood the Varelith, an exalted title reserved for those who had transcended the confines of the lower realms. Only cultivators who had attained the Spirit Integration stage could claim such a position.

However, due to the scarcity of spiritual energy in the lower realm, no Varelith could naturally ascend under its skies. The heavens themselves forbade such a breakthrough, maintaining the balance of the Dao and ensuring the natural order prevailed.

-

Presently, a young man with a wooden expression sat at the head of the ombré table, his demeanor calm yet commanding. His eyes held a quiet authority that caused the four elders seated before him to straighten their backs whenever they spoke. These elders—Xu, Bia, Liang Yue, and Shenyin—formed the core of the church's decision-making body.

"The Obsidian Woodlands have been far too quiet" Elder Liang Yue remarked, her sharp voice cutting through the room. "Our scouts report movement near the northern border. The Golden Steppe is stirring and will arrive within two months."

Elder Shenyin nodded slowly, his fingers drumming against the table's surface. The subtle rhythm drew the young man's gaze, but only for a fleeting moment before he looked away. "The royals have been silent for the longest while" Shenyin said, his tone measured. "If they intend to move against us, we must be prepared. Jin Wu may yet prove a useful pawn in this conflict."

"And Hang Cai?" Elder Xu's deep voice rumbled through the chamber like distant thunder. "The Demonshade Heart is a dangerous task, even for one of his caliber. Can he succeed?"

A faint smile curved Shenyin's lips. "If he does, he will ascend to a level we cannot ignore. If he fails, we lose nothing of consequence."

The chamber fell into silence as the elders exchanged knowing glances, their attention eventually returning to the young man seated before them. The Celestial Shadow Church thrived on calculated risk—a web of intrigue and schemes that ensured only the strongest emerged unscathed.

Finally, Elder Bia rose from his seat, bowing deeply as the others followed suit. His voice was reverent, yet steady. "Lord Varelith, this servant humbly requests an audience. I wonder if my lord would grant me a moment's thought."

The young man's gaze shifted to him, his expression unchanging. His tone was calm, but it carried an undeniable weight. "Speak."

The room seemed to hold its breath, awaiting the words that would follow.