157: Chapter 157 The Ranks of Spiritual Power

The moment the stone door opened, Lin Xuan stood behind the crowd, feeling a dry aura squeezing out from the crack.

As that aura brushed against his cheeks, the fine hairs on his skin stood up one by one, and the fabric of his robe pressed against his skin, emitting a very faint crackling sound.

The air now carried an indescribable scent—not the smell of burning, not the smell of vegetation, but more like the lingering freshness in the air after a thunderstorm, yet much thicker, thick enough to make his nasal cavity feel slightly dry.

The crowd in the plaza fell silent for an instant. Lin Xuan saw several Loose Cultivators in the front row lift their shoulders, shrink their necks, and scuff their heels against the stone floor, but not a single person stepped forward.

Then, the Foundation Establishment Middle-aged Cultivator from Bibo City moved.

He raised his hand to signal the two young Cultivators behind him to follow; his pace was not fast, and every step landed in the same rhythm.

When he walked to the stone door, the thunder patterns on the door flashed, and purple light scanned over him. His figure wavered in the light—like a pebble thrown into water causing ripples—and then he disappeared.

The two Qi Refining Level 9 young Cultivators followed closely behind.

The male stepped forward first; as he entered the door, his right hand pressed against the hilt of the short sword at his waist, his fingers tightening slightly.

The female followed behind, her back pausing for an instant in the door crack, as if she had been tugged by some force, and then she also disappeared.

Once someone took the lead, the crowd moved.

It wasn't an orderly queue, but a swarm surging toward the door.

The team from Qingmu City squeezed to the very front. The leader, Zhou Yuan, turned his body and wedged himself between two Loose Cultivators. Zhou Xiaochuan followed behind, using his shield to push others aside. The edge of the shield bumped into a Loose Cultivator's shoulder, and the man turned back to curse, but Zhou Xiaochuan ignored him.

Zhou Xiaohe was jostled until her figure swayed, and the Spirit Stone on her short staff lit up and then went out.

The lone Cultivator in the dark red robe walked the most quietly.

He waited until most of the people around him had surged in before jumping down from the remains of the stone pillar, patting the dust off his robe, and walking slowly toward the door.

Lin Xuan waited until the outer crowd had dispersed by more than half before walking out from behind the stone pillar.

He stepped toward the stone door.

The moment he stepped into the stone door, the sensation under his soles changed abruptly.

He wasn't stepping on stone slabs, but on something soft and elastic.

Lin Xuan looked down—under his feet was a patch of purple light, so thick it couldn't be dissolved, as if he had stepped into water, but the touch wasn't the wetness of liquid, more like stepping on thick moss, dense and elastic.

The purple light spread upward from his feet, submerging his calves, waist, and chest, finally swallowing his entire field of vision.

The sounds in his ears were changing as well.

The noise in the plaza—those shouts, footsteps, sounds of metal clashing—was cut off in an instant, replaced by a very low hum.

It was like someone beating a large drum far away; the drum sound traveled through layers of stone walls, muffled and unclear, but it made his chest tremble slightly.

When the light dissipated, Lin Xuan found himself standing in a huge Stone Chamber.

The Stone Chamber was circular, with a diameter of over a thousand zhang.

The ground was not stone slabs, but a single piece of smooth rock, the surface so polished it could reflect a blurry silhouette.

Stepping on it, one could feel the fine patterns on the stone surface; they were not man-made, but looked more like naturally formed flow patterns, spreading outward in circles from the center.

The dome was so high it was almost impossible to see the top. Looking up, one could only see a layer of purple mist slowly rolling overhead, and deep within the mist, thunder light flowed vaguely, the flashing frequency similar to breathing.

In the center of the Stone Chamber stood a stairway.

It was not an ordinary stairway—it was a set of steps composed of purple light curtains.

The first step was attached to the ground, and the last step extended into the depths of the dome. Each step was suspended, with a half-zhang gap between the steps.

Below the gap was empty space; through the gaps, one could see the light curtain further below flowing slowly.

The texture of the light curtain was like water waves; every time it flowed, a faint purple ripple would appear at the edge of the steps.

Lin Xuan counted.

Ninety-nine steps.

A voice rang out in the Stone Chamber.

It was not the old and peaceful tone of the Formation spirit—although the Formation spirit's voice was hollow, it still had a human warmth, and one could hear age and weariness.

This voice had no warmth at all, like an automatically triggered prompt from the Formation. Every syllable of every word was exactly the same, without any inflection.

"The first trial, the Stairway of Spiritual Energy. Each step tests the purity of the climber's spiritual energy. Those with impure spiritual energy will find it difficult to take a single step; those with pure spiritual energy will walk as if on flat ground. Those who reach the top pass the trial."

After the last word fell, the Stone Chamber was silent for a few breaths.

Then someone cursed.

"Spiritual energy purity? I've eaten a qi gathering pill for decades to reach Qi Refining Level 4, and now you're talking to me about purity?"

The speaker was a burly man with a face full of flesh, at Qi Refining Level 4, wearing a short jacket that exposed his chest.

After cursing, he rolled up his sleeves vigorously, revealing two hairy arms, and stepped onto the first step.

The moment his sole touched the light curtain, his whole body was bounced away as if he had been electrocuted.

He wasn't just pushed away—he was launched.

His legs bounced up from the light curtain, his knees slammed into his chest, and his whole body curled into a ball and rolled backward, smashing onto the floor of the Stone Chamber and sliding a long way.

The stone floor was smooth, and he slid nearly three zhang before stopping.

When he stopped, the front of his short jacket was emitting a wisp of green smoke, and a burnt smell spread out, mixed with the charred aroma of roasted meat.

His right leg was twitching uncontrollably, and his knee was shaking like a sieve. The shoe on his sole had been burnt through, leaving a hole; the skin at the edge of the hole was scorched black and curled, revealing the equally charred sole underneath.

The skin on the sole could no longer be identified by its original color; the entire sole looked as if it had been branded by a hot iron, covered in a dense layer of blisters. The blisters were purple, bulging with translucent liquid inside.

The burly man lay on the ground, his mouth open, a low groan issuing from his throat.

The Stone Chamber was deathly silent.

Lin Xuan heard someone next to him swallow. A gulp, very loud.

The Foundation Establishment Middle-aged Cultivator from Bibo City stepped onto the first step with an expressionless face.

His steps were very steady.

It wasn't the kind of steady that comes from cautious probing, but rather every step landed solidly—his heel landed first, then the ball of his foot pressed down, and finally, his toes gripped the surface of the light curtain gently, as if he were walking on flat ground.

The first thirty steps were like walking on flat ground; his speed didn't decrease at all, and the hem of his robe swayed gently with his pace, the rhythm as even as a pendulum.

By the fiftieth step, his pace slowed down.

Lin Xuan noticed his shoulders sink slightly, the angle of his knee bend was larger than before, and he would pause for half a breath before each step landed.

But he didn't stop; he was still walking.

The two Qi Refining Level 9 young Cultivators following him were far worse.

The male Cultivator began to stumble at the fortieth step.

When his foot touched the light curtain, a ripple would spread across its surface, growing larger and larger, spreading from his toes to his entire sole, and then his leg began to shake.

It wasn't the shaking of a spasm, but the trembling of muscles desperately resisting some pressure—the muscles on his calves were taut, and one could see the muscle lines jumping twitch by twitch through his trousers.

By the forty-fifth step, his forehead was covered in sweat, which dripped down his nose bridge and onto the light curtain, evaporating into a small puff of white mist with a sizzle.

The female Cultivator was even worse. She began to sweat at the thirty-fifth step, the sweat dampening the hair at her temples and sticking it to her face.

She stopped at the thirty-eighth step, hands supporting her knees, panting heavily.

Lin Xuan didn't rush to go up.

He squatted under the stairs, his wrists resting on his knees, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the Thunder-Striking Thorn in his sleeve.

The anti-slip texture on the hilt pressed against his fingertips, rough and dry; this sensation kept his mind exceptionally clear.

A Qi Refining Level 6 Loose Cultivator stepped onto the fifth step.

As soon as his sole touched the light curtain, his body swayed, his arms instinctively spreading to maintain balance.

He walked up another five steps to the tenth, when his whole body seemed to be shoved hard from behind by an invisible hand, his feet left the ground simultaneously, and he fell straight backward.

The back of his head hit the stone floor, making a dull thud.

A Qi Refining Layer 8 Loose Cultivator managed to struggle to the sixtieth step.

He started panting heavily at the fifty-fifth step, his chest heaving violently like a bellows, every inhalation accompanied by a sharp whistling sound—his throat was choked by sweat.

When he reached the sixtieth step, his left leg suddenly softened, his knee collapsed, his center of gravity shifted, his right foot slipped on the light curtain, and then he rolled down from the side of the stairs.

Lin Xuan watched the Qi Refining Layer 8 Loose Cultivator being dragged to the edge of the Stone Chamber by his companion, his fingers unconsciously gripping his sleeve.

Spiritual energy purity.

He was very familiar with these four words. There was a sentence in the general outline of the Purple Heaven Divine Thunder Art that he had read over and over countless times— "The Dao of Thunder does not value quantity, but purity. Those with impure spiritual energy, even if they possess the power of ten thousand jun, are nothing but scattered sand; those with pure spiritual energy, even if they possess only a thread of power, can pierce stone and crack metal."

Every bit of Thunder Spiritual Energy in his Dantian had been absorbed through the filtering of the thunder-attracting vine, had been tempered by the spirit control tower, and had been repeatedly hammered by the Thunder Body Refining Technique.

Other people's spiritual energy was sand and gravel mixed with mud; his spiritual energy was fine sand that had been sifted five times.

He felt he should be able to pass, but he wasn't in a hurry.

He continued to squat, watching one Cultivator after another get bounced away.