Chapter Eleven: The Second Trial

Drawn into the Cauldron of Creation, Yao Ye slowly surveyed his surroundings, discovering himself standing within a tunnel of light. All around was utter silence—no sound, no trace of any other being or object.

At this moment, a voice reminded him, “There are three trials in total. You are now at the first. The trials represent solitude, sacrifice, and choice, respectively. I will not speak again to guide you until the ordeal is complete. Now, let the trial begin. How you pass is up to you—good luck!” The surroundings fell silent once more.

Yao Ye stood in place, contemplating. “This should be the trial of solitude. There's neither sound nor company here—this must be a test of my endurance.” Lifting his head to gaze at the endless tunnel of light before him, Yao Ye began moving forward.

The silence was so profound it was terrifying. Only his own footsteps echoed in his ears, the unchanging colors deprived him of all sense of time. As the hours stretched, Yao Ye’s mind grew increasingly restless, his agitation mounting with every passing moment, until hallucinations began to arise.

He saw his fallen kin, his parents smiling kindly and waving at him. He watched as his childhood friends invited him to join their games. At first, Yao Ye managed to resist, encouraging himself to persevere through it all. But as time wore on, his will began to falter, his mind grew muddled. The tunnel spun before his eyes, and the light in his gaze dimmed, his focus scattering. He was teetering on the brink of collapse, forgetting even who he was or where he stood. Surrounded by illusions, Yao Ye could no longer bear it; unable to distinguish truth from fantasy, he began reaching out to the apparitions, greeting them, sometimes breaking into foolish laughter, sometimes muttering nonsense.

“Sigh! He’s going to fail. Still too inexperienced!” The ancient spirit of the cauldron watched with a long, heavy sigh, though Yao Ye could hear none of it.

Just then, an unfamiliar surge of spiritual power erupted from Yao Ye’s body. The hallucinations shifted, and Yang Xiaotian appeared before him, pointing an accusing finger as he spoke: “Hmph! Yao Ye, have you forgotten your mission? Have you forgotten the bitter enmity that runs in your veins? Did you forget the promise you made to me? Do you remember what you are doing here? Wake up, Yao Ye! The future of the continent needs you to protect it!” These words struck Yao Ye’s heart like heavy hammers, and clarity returned to his eyes.

Letting out a long breath to calm himself, Yao Ye said, “That was close! If not for Elder Xiaotian, I might have failed here.” Regaining his composure, he looked once more at the endless tunnel of light. His steps grew steadfast and resolute again. Whenever a trace of illusion appeared, Yao Ye bit his tongue or slapped his own face to stay awake.

Watching this, the ancient spirit of the cauldron could not remain calm. “What a lad! You’ve managed to play me after all. Xiaotian, I wondered why you infused this boy with your spiritual power before you faded away. It seems you have high hopes for this Yao Ye!”

Thus, Yao Ye pressed onward, step by determined step, his cheeks swelling and the corners of his mouth stained with blood, driven by a single conviction: I cannot fall—I must have my revenge and eradicate the demons! With faith and self-inflicted pain, he marched forward, footsteps ringing with resolve.

Who knows how much time passed before, suddenly, light burst before his eyes. He found himself no longer in the tunnel, but standing in the midst of a city! Yao Ye whispered, “Looks like I made it through the trial of solitude. What could be next?”

To better test one’s nature, the illusion of the trial temporarily altered Yao Ye’s memories, and once more, he was fully absorbed into the vision.

The Cauldron of Creation had already recognized Yao Ye as its master. Lifting his head to examine his surroundings, he realized the city was filled with his kin and friends, along with countless humans. Yet they all seemed possessed, slaughtering one another, the air thick with demonic energy, severed limbs, and blood. Yao Ye frowned. “What on earth is happening? How can I stop this? Elder, do you have any advice?”

The ancient spirit replied, “It’s simple. These humans and beastfolk have already been corrupted by demonic energy, their souls refined by the demons. Now they are nothing but walking corpses. The only way is to destroy them completely!”

“To slaughter millions of my own people—an entire city? I cannot! Is there no other way?”

The ancient spirit hesitated. “There is, but…”

“But what? Tell me! Can’t you see so many are dying every minute?”

“There is a way—but it will cost you your own life force. Using the Cauldron of Creation as a medium, you can purify the demonic energy and cleanse the mark of the demons from their souls.”

Yao Ye hesitated, watching friends and crowds of humans fall at his feet. Then, with resolve, he said, “Elder, tell me what to do. Guide me!”

The ancient spirit pleaded, “There are too many! Even if you sacrifice all your life, you cannot save them all. Most of these people are strangers to you—why go to such lengths for them? Even if you succeed, they won’t know it was you. What meaning is there in this? You still have a greater mission ahead—the demons threatening the continent are not yet vanquished!”

Yao Ye cut him off with a wave. “A true man knows what must be done and what must not. I do not need to be remembered. I only need a clear conscience. If I truly fall here, then please choose a new master. But I cannot stand by and watch them die!”

The ancient spirit gazed helplessly at Yao Ye. “Very well! I will help you. May all that you do be worth it.”