"If I attain the Other Shore, then in all the affairs of this world, in every boundless predicament, there will always be a thread of hope!"
As Meng Qi uttered these solemn, magnificent words, the future tributaries caught in violent turmoil shuddered faster, changing in the blink of an eye and branching into even more possibilities. Of these countless illusory, indistinct tributaries, aside from those whose outcomes had long been predetermined as 'impassable,' even Meng Qi himself could not fully assess the newly emerged possibilities in a short time, much less make an accurate judgment in the briefest instant and choose the ones that could carry him across the River of Destiny.
But with a single word from him, hope emerged. His body seemed drawn forward by fate. He took a step, landing precisely in one of the tributaries, and let it carry him into the future.
'Destiny' was illusory and elusive. Meng Qi bobbed up and down, drifting with the current. After an unknowable span of time, the river finally vanished, and an utterly ordinary stone door appeared before him. Its wards were weak; even an ordinary martial artist could push it open with ease.
Outside the sect's secret grounds, before the ancient bronze gate, the magnificent voice echoed. The River of Destiny filled the sky, washing away the dust of time.
Gazes from every corner of Zhixu Mountain turned toward it. They stared blankly as the illusory waters surged into view and watched its tributaries shift, no longer anything that could be called predestined or unchangeable.
After a long silence, the roaring, surging waters calmed and gradually faded, leaving brilliant rosy clouds above the secret grounds. They stretched across the mountains, hazy and beautiful, much like the Buddha's light.
"Did Su Meng really pass the third trial?"