Meanwhile, on the other side, the Divine Trial Illusion of Spirit City unfolded once again.
Qian Renxue stood in a vast wilderness, dusk was falling, and the last ray of light on the horizon pressed down like a line about to burn out.
Tang San's figure appeared not far ahead, sitting under a withered tree, head down, as if waiting for something.
She had seen this scene many times before.
The divine oracle would always slip into her soul through the illusion at this time, repeatedly issuing the same command:
Approaching him and gaining his trust is an essential test of character that must be passed in the Angel Inheritance.
Over the past two years, Shen Kao has repeatedly implanted Tang San into her illusions.
Sometimes he would stand in the dense forest, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if carrying something very heavy.
Sometimes he would swing his hammer in the ring, the hammer's edge glowing crimson, the impact of which would cause the ground to crack slightly when it struck the bluestone.
Sometimes he's just a silhouette, sitting somewhere, with nothing around him.
Each angle was carefully chosen to show her his perseverance, his loneliness, and his unwavering determination.
Like carefully designed frames, waiting for someone to walk by, stop, and remember them.
In the first year, she would watch it carefully.
She told herself that this was the content of a divine test, and it must have a profound meaning.
She tried to glean something from these images and understand the logic behind the instruction.
Tang San is indeed remarkable. As the son of Clear Sky Douluo, he went from Trash Spirit to where he is today and can even withstand the erosion of the Asura God Trial.
She acknowledged his worth, but acknowledging his worth and being willing to get close to him are two different things.
She even admitted that, without preconceived notions, she might have admired this opponent and even been willing to fight him fair and square on the battlefield.
But Shenkao insisted on packaging this person as "someone you should be attracted to," pushing her to walk over, stop, and place her trust in him.
This pre-arranged intimacy was something she instinctively repelled more than any divine punishment.
She gradually realized later that Shenkao was doing much more than just projecting images.
It subtly erased her memories of other people and things, trying to grind that silver-haired, white-clad figure into an insignificant chance encounter in her life.
Several times, when she woke up, she almost couldn't remember the silver-haired boy's voice, only feeling the feathers in her palm burning hot.
The moment you grasp it, a warm, holy light seeps into your soul through your fingertips, and all blurred memories become clear again.
He never intruded into her legacy, leaving behind only this feather, which became the only shore she could grasp in the torrent of divine trials.
By the second year, Shenkao had gradually lost patience.
The illusion was no longer just a display of images; the rebuke of the oracle began to carry the stinging pain of mental needles.
He repeatedly struck at her soul. "Your will is not firm, your personal feelings have led you astray. If you continue to resist, it will be the divine punishment for failing to pass on your legacy."
The more it pressured her, the stronger her rebellious spirit became—not directed at Tang San, but at the feeling of being forced to acknowledge and get close to him.
Starting in the second year, she noticed a pattern when she looked at these images: she would always think of another person during the gaps between scene transitions.
That face never appeared in the Divine Examination Illusion; it only appeared in her own memories.
She has long, silver-white hair, a faint golden mark between her brows, and speaks in a low voice, as if stating something that is already certain.
She wasn't comparing Tang San to anyone else; she just couldn't help but think this when she looked at Tang San:
If it were him standing there instead, would she have taken a second look?
When the thought first popped into her head, she suppressed it.
She told herself that this was just a temporary distraction, because Chen Jieqi just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and it wasn't any special sign.
But then she thought about it a second and a third time, so many times that she could no longer categorize it as a coincidence.
After one of her illusions ended, she sat by the window in the side hall, looking at the statue's downcast gaze, and suddenly something occurred to her:
If the divine test ordered her to approach Tang San before she met Chen Jieqi, would she carry it out?
The answer is: Yes.
She might find it strange, but she'll do it because she has no reason to refuse.
Her resistance wasn't something she judged; it was blocked by something that was already there.
She began to study oracles, peruse ancient texts, and trace the records of the Angel God Trial, trying to find the flaws in the instruction between the lines.
She spent a lot of time doing it very meticulously, to the point that she herself thought she was genuinely doubting the oracle's validity.
But the more she did, the clearer it became to her that she wasn't actually doubting, but rather procrastinating.
She didn't want to do it.
She dared not admit this reason, because admitting it would mean facing even more troublesome problems. Why wouldn't she want to?
The divine test continues, and the illusions keep recurring.
She would stand and watch each time, then return to the side hall, sit by the window, place the feather in her palm, look at it, and remain silent.
The burn marks on the edges of the feathers have been worn thin, like an old scar that is almost healed but has not completely faded away.
She held the feather in her hand; when she held it, there were tiny marks on her palm—not painful, but present nonetheless.
She remembered something from long ago.
At the entrance of the Heaven Dou Royal Academy, she saw Chen Jieqi again. He stood in the sunset, his gaze calmly fixed on her.
At that time, she didn't know who he was looking at, but later he gave her the answer.
She recalled the twilight of Ashen Territory, where he stood in the square and said to her, "Whether you choose or not, you are still you. That's who I recognize."
She didn't answer then, because she never dared to answer.
She was afraid that if she answered, she would have to confront the question that had been weighing on her heart: what did she really want?
She sat by the window for a long time, so long that the candle flame burned down a bit, and ashes fell from the wick and shattered on the table.
She looked down at the ashes and suddenly realized she couldn't wait any longer.
She didn't want to waste any more time verifying the flaws in the oracle, didn't want to make excuses for delaying, and didn't want to pretend she didn't know the answer.
She said to herself:
"I don't want to get close to Tang San. It's not because the divine oracle is wrong, it's because I don't want to. It's my own choice."
She had been thinking about these words for two years, but had never said them aloud.
She didn't tell anyone, not even herself.
But now she stood by the window, outside was night, and on the windowsill lay the feather that had arrived two years ago.
She suddenly felt a relaxation in her back, as if something had finally been lifted off her shoulders.
She wasn't a pawn pushed around by divine pronouncements; she had her own judgment and her own direction. It just took her two years to dare to admit it to herself.
She lowered her head and looked at the feather.
The feather lay quietly on the windowsill, its scorch marks gleaming pale gold in the moonlight, like an old mark that was fading with age.
She didn't grip it tightly; she merely touched the edge with her fingertips and then withdrew it.
She recalled the night two years ago when she received the feather; Chen Jieqi hadn't asked her anything.
"What will you choose?" he asked, simply telling her, "I'll be in Ashen Territory, waiting for you to come out."
She confirmed in her heart, word by word: she had met the right person at the beginning, and no matter how good other people were, they could never compare to his brilliance.
She remained silent, without disturbing the night outside the window. Only she knew that the moment those words were spoken, the two years of tossing and turning finally had an answer.
She turned and walked towards the entrance to the divine examination.
The divine test was still there, the golden light was still shimmering, and the illusion was still waiting for her.
Her steps slowed slightly, but she didn't stop. Before going inside, she glanced back at the windowsill; the feather was still there.
The golden portal slowly closed behind her. This time, the illusion that had been circling inside for two years showed slight stuttering and distortion for the first time.
Her fingertips still felt slightly warm, as if the edges of the feathers had been burned, as she stepped into the golden light.