After half an incense stick of rest, the Alliance group moved into the passage beyond the Verdant Flame Trial.
The warmth from the previous hall faded with every step. The crimson glow behind them became weaker, and the walls ahead gradually turned dark and smooth, like polished black jade. There were no lamps in the passage, yet everyone could still see clearly. A faint grey light flowed beneath the floor, pulsing quietly under their feet like a sleeping vein.
Fang Lin walked near the middle of the group, neither too close to Feng Jiu'er nor too far from the weaker disciples. His expression remained calm, but his thoughts had not entirely left the hidden heat beneath the three lamps. The trace had been too faint to grasp, yet strange enough to make him remember it. The true secret of Blackstone Trial Peak was clearly not something placed openly for ordinary trial-takers.
He wanted to turn back and investigate, but doing so would be foolish. Feng Jiu'er was already suspicious of him, Su Wanqing was observant, and Murong Yue had the kind of curiosity that could become troublesome even without cultivation. More importantly, the ruins had shown intelligence in its trials. If he acted too eagerly, he might alert something that was still sleeping.
Fang Lin let out a quiet breath and suppressed the restlessness in his heart. He had waited through worse. He could wait again.
The passage widened after a few hundred steps, revealing a long and narrow hall. It was not grand like the Verdant Flame Trial, nor oppressive like Blackstone Trial Peak. The floor was made from black stone tiles, each one engraved with thin silver lines. On both sides of the hall stood stone statues with lowered heads. Their faces were blank, and their hands covered their mouths as if warning those who entered not to speak.
Above the entrance, ancient words glowed faintly.
Feng Jiu'er raised her hand, stopping the group. Her eyes moved across the words, and her expression became more serious.
Su Wanqing read them softly. "Silent Steps Hall. Those who enter must walk with steady breath and silent heart. Loud voices disturb the hall. Chaotic thoughts summon echoes. False faces invite questions."
The final sentence made Fang Lin's eyes narrow slightly. He thought, "Why does it feel like the trial is really targeting him? He felt the same before too, but thought that is was just a coincidence. But this is happening again and again."
False faces invite questions.
For ordinary disciples, it might only expose fear or hesitation. For Fang Lin, it was far more dangerous. He was standing here under another name, another face, and another aura. Every part of that disguise had to remain stable.
Murong Yue looked at the statues and lowered her voice. "Why do I feel like this place was built specifically to make talkative people suffer?"
Li Shan glanced at her. "Then you should be careful."
Murong Yue smiled coquettishly at him. "Senior Brother Li, was that concern about me?"
"It was survival advice," Li Shan replied calmly.
Zhao Feng looked at the hall, then at Murong Yue. "If the trial punishes talking, should we tie her mouth first?"
Murong Yue turned toward him with a bright smile. "Junior Brother Zhao, your courage has improved after breaking through."
Zhao Feng immediately looked away. "I said nothing."
Bai Qing tried not to laugh, but the tense atmosphere around the hall made even that small amusement fade quickly.
Feng Jiu'er looked back at everyone and said, "No unnecessary speech after entering. Keep your breathing stable. If you hear voices, do not answer them. If you see something strange, do not chase it. We cross together."
The disciples nodded.
Fang Lin also nodded slightly.
Feng Jiu'er's gaze paused on him for a breath. It was not open suspicion, but it was no longer simple caution either. After the Verdant Flame Trial, she had clearly placed Shen Mo among the people who needed to be watched carefully.
Fang Lin met her gaze without avoiding it. His expression was calm and natural, showing neither nervousness nor excessive confidence.
Feng Jiu'er turned away first and stepped into the hall.
The moment her foot landed on the first black tile, the silver lines beneath the floor lit up. The light spread forward like ripples in still water. No pressure descended immediately, but every sound became unnaturally clear. The faint movement of robes, the soft shift of breathing, and even the pulse of spiritual Qi inside the meridians seemed to echo in the hall.
The group entered one by one.
Fang Lin stepped onto the black tile and immediately felt the trial probing him. It was not divine sense, nor was it ordinary pressure. It felt more like a question without words. The hall did not force its way into his soul. Instead, it waited for instability, lies, fear, or guilt to loosen the surface of his mind.
Fang Lin's expression did not change, but his soul quietly grew still.
The Soul Metamorphosis Technique circulated in silence. His spiritual sea became calm, and the Phantom Transformation around his body stabilized further. Shen Mo's face, aura, and breathing remained flawless. Even the rhythm of his steps became ordinary, matching what a Late Spirit Foundation rogue cultivator should show.
The first whisper appeared after twenty steps.
It did not come from the front or behind. It came from beside each person, close enough to the ear that it felt personal.
"Too weak."
A disciple near the left side trembled slightly. His foot landed half an inch off rhythm, and the tile beneath him flashed silver. A shadow rose from the floor, thin as smoke, reaching toward his ankle.
Su Wanqing reacted quickly. She did not speak. She only flicked her sleeve, sending a strand of wind-wood Qi toward the disciple's back. The disciple steadied himself, and the shadow sank back into the floor.
The group continued forward.
More whispers appeared.
Some were mocking. Some were familiar. Some sounded like elders. Some sounded like enemies. The voices did not shout. They only spoke softly, as if repeating thoughts that had already existed inside the heart.
Bai Qing's face turned pale when a whisper passed beside her.
"You will slow them down."
Her fingers tightened around her weapon.
Han Zhi noticed and moved half a step closer to her, not touching her, but placing himself where he could support her if she stumbled. Bai Qing noticed the movement and forced her breathing to calm.
Li Shan heard something as well. His eyes lowered slightly, but his footsteps remained steady. Fang Lin did not know what Li Shan heard, but he could guess. Li Shan had once been ordinary among monsters. Perhaps the hall told him he would always remain ordinary. If so, Li Shan handled it better than before. His expression was serious, but not shaken.
Murong Yue's smile slowly faded.
For once, she did not speak.
A whisper moved beside Fang Lin.
"Fang Lin."
His step did not pause. The name passed over him like wind over stone.
Then another whisper came.
"Little Lin."
This time, Fang Lin's fingers moved faintly beneath his sleeve.
The voice sounded like Uncle Wei, but not perfectly. The tone was close, yet the weight was wrong. Uncle Wei's voice always carried warmth beneath its carelessness, even when he scolded him. This whisper had only imitation. It knew the sound, not the person.
Fang Lin's eyes grew colder, but he continued walking.
The hall seemed to notice that the first attempt had failed.
A third whisper appeared.
"Your parents are waiting."
Fang Lin's chest tightened for a brief moment. It was brief, but the hall caught it. The tile beneath his foot flickered, and a thin shadow rose from the floor, curling toward his leg.
Fang Lin did not look down.
"Black Mountain Guard."
A silent pressure formed around his lower body and crushed the shadow before it fully emerged. Black Mountain Guard could protect against sudden close-range attacks. The movement was small and controlled, hidden beneath the natural flow of his aura. To others, it only looked like the silver tile had flashed and then dimmed again.
Fang Lin's gaze remained forward, but his heart had turned colder.
The ruins had touched Uncle Wei. Then his parents.
This trial was not dangerous because it was strong. It was dangerous because it was precise.
A few steps ahead, Feng Jiu'er suddenly slowed. Her shoulders did not tremble, but the crimson aura around her body flickered once.
Fang Lin saw it clearly.
A whisper had reached her.
"He left without saying farewell."
Feng Jiu'er's fingers tightened around her sword hilt. The hall grew quieter around her, as if waiting for her response.
Fang Lin's eyes moved.
That sentence was not aimed at Shen Mo. It was aimed at Feng Jiu'er.
Feng Jiu'er lowered her gaze slightly. Her face remained composed, but her lips pressed together for a moment. Then pale-green Qi spread beneath her feet, steady and rooted. The crimson flicker around her aura calmed, and she continued walking without answering the whisper.
Fang Lin watched her back, and a quiet guilt passed through him. He had left the Green Bamboo Sect without telling her. At that time, it had seemed necessary. Perhaps it still was. Yet necessity did not erase the weight of what it left behind.
Murong Yue glanced toward Feng Jiu'er, then toward Shen Mo. Her eyes narrowed slightly, not because she understood everything, but because she had seen too many small things to ignore them completely.
The group reached the middle of Silent Steps Hall.
The statues on both sides in the Hall suddenly raised their heads. Their blank faces turned toward the disciples, and their hands slowly lowered, revealing black cracks where mouths should have been. From those cracks came overlapping whispers, hundreds of them at once.
"Answer."
"Admit."
"Remember."
"Return."
The disciples' breathing became chaotic. The silver lines beneath the floor brightened sharply, and shadows rose from more than ten tiles at once, each one reaching toward a different cultivator.
Feng Jiu'er turned slightly and sent her voice through Qi, low and controlled. "Do not answer. Keep walking."
A shadow lunged toward Bai Qing again.
Han Zhi blocked it with a palm strike, but another shadow appeared behind him.
Fang Lin stepped forward.
"Black Mountain Lock."
Invisible pressure pinned the second shadow to the ground. Fang Lin then shifted his foot and used Stone Vein Crushing Step. The black tile beneath the shadow trembled, and the shadow broke apart as if its rhythm had been crushed from within.
Han Zhi turned his head briefly and nodded. His eyes showed gratitude, but he did not speak. That was correct. In this hall, even gratitude could become an opening.
The group increased speed, but they did not run. Running would break rhythm. Feng Jiu'er led them with steady steps, her aura spreading backward like a thin crimson-green thread. The thread did not pull anyone forward, but it gave the group something to follow.
Fang Lin quietly adjusted his own pace to support the rear. He could have crossed the hall alone with ease. His soul was strong, his disguise was stable, and his body could withstand the pressure. But crossing with a group was different. Every weak breath behind him created a flaw. Every unstable emotion nearby gave the hall another opening.
A shadow formed beside Murong Yue.
It took the shape of a young woman with the same smiling eyes and held a blade behind its back.
Murong Yue's expression sharpened.
The shadow smiled at her silently.
Then it lunged.
"Moon-Sleeve Cut."
Murong Yue's hidden blade flashed across the shadow's throat, but the shadow did not die. It bent backward unnaturally and reached toward her chest. Murong Yue's eyes narrowed, and for once, there was no playfulness in them.
Before the shadow touched her, a crimson sword light passed beside her shoulder.
"Crimson Leaf Sword."
Feng Jiu'er's sword light burned the shadow apart. She did not turn back fully. She only said in a low voice, "Focus."
Murong Yue looked at Feng Jiu'er's back and softly replied, "Yes."
The reply was barely audible, but the hall still reacted. A tile flickered beneath Murong Yue's foot.
Murong Yue's expression froze.
Zhao Feng looked at her with widened eyes, clearly wanting to say something, but he managed to hold it back. His face showed the pain of a man forced to swallow a perfect comment.
Even Fang Lin almost smiled.
The final stretch of the hall was the most difficult.
The whispers no longer spoke in clear words. They became familiar breaths, footsteps, and sighs. They imitated people who were absent. Fang Lin heard Xuo Mu's nervous laughter, Xue Ji's calm voice, and Uncle Wei pouring wine. Then he heard a woman's soft hum that he did not recognize, yet somehow his blood reacted to it.
His mother.
The thought appeared without warning.
Fang Lin's step nearly slowed.
His eyes lowered, and the Soul Metamorphosis Technique circulated deeper. The surface of his mind became still again, but beneath that stillness, emotion pressed against his chest like a hand.
He wanted to know.
He wanted to know who they were, where they were, and why Uncle Wei had left so many secrets behind.
The whisper tried to turn that desire into a hook.
Fang Lin's gaze became cold and clear.
Desire was not weakness. Losing control was.
He walked forward.
The last ten steps passed.
The moment Feng Jiu'er stepped onto the final tile, the statues on both sides lowered their heads again. The whispers vanished at once. The silver lines beneath the floor dimmed, and the shadows sank back into the stone like ink returning to a brush.
The Alliance disciples crossed one after another.
When the last disciple stepped out, many of them released breaths they had been holding without realizing it.
Zhao Feng rubbed his face and whispered, "I never thought staying quiet could be this exhausting."
Murong Yue glanced at him and said softly, "For some people, it is a life-and-death trial."
Zhao Feng looked at her. "You almost failed first."
Murong Yue smiled without shame. "That is why I understand the danger."
Li Shan closed his eyes briefly, as if he needed a moment to recover from both the trial and the conversation.
Feng Jiu'er turned toward the group. Her expression was composed, but Fang Lin could see that her mood was not as calm as it appeared. The whisper she had heard still lingered somewhere behind her eyes.
A stone platform rose at the end of the hall.
On it lay several grey talismans and one black jade slip. The talismans were thin and almost transparent, with small silver patterns shaped like footsteps. The jade slip released no strong fluctuation, but its surface absorbed sound around it.
Su Wanqing stepped forward and examined the jade slip.
"It is called Soundless Trace Step," she said after a moment. "It is a movement and concealment technique. It reduces footstep sound, stabilizes breathing, and allows the user to move without disturbing weak formations. It should be useful for scouts and close-range fighters."
Murong Yue's eyes brightened.
Feng Jiu'er looked at her and said, "This suits you."
Murong Yue did not pretend otherwise. She accepted the jade slip with both hands, and her smile became more genuine than usual. "Then I will not be polite."
Feng Jiu'er then divided the grey talismans among the group. When one talisman was handed to Fang Lin, he accepted it naturally. The talisman felt light between his fingers, but the formation inside was delicate. It could conceal movement for a short period, though it would not hide aura from a strong divine sense.
Feng Jiu'er watched him accept it.
"Fellow Daoist Shen," she said, her voice calm, "you seemed very steady inside the hall."
Fang Lin looked at the talisman in his hand. "People who wander alone learn to keep their thoughts quiet."
Feng Jiu'er studied him. "That sounds like experience."
"It is."
"Then you must have wandered for a long time."
Fang Lin raised his eyes and met her gaze. His expression was calm, but his voice lowered slightly. "Long enough to know that some questions are more dangerous than answers."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Su Wanqing looked between them, her eyes thoughtful. Murong Yue also noticed the strange atmosphere, and her smile slowly became curious again.
Feng Jiu'er finally looked away.
"Then keep your secrets well," she said.
Fang Lin lowered his gaze. "I intend to."
The words were simple, but something in Feng Jiu'er's heart moved faintly. She did not know why Shen Mo's answer made her think of the note Fang Lin had left behind. Different face, different voice, different aura, yet the same habit of carrying everything alone.
The passage beyond Silent Steps Hall opened.
This time, the air ahead carried moisture.
A faint sound of flowing water came from the darkness.
Su Wanqing looked forward and said, "The next place may be Ashen River Crossing."
Fang Lin's eyes moved slightly.
Ashen River Crossing was another location marked on the Trial Region Map. It was difficult to tell whether it had any relation to the hidden fire beneath Blackstone Trial Peak, but the arrangement of the trials was becoming less simple the deeper they walked. Fire, silence, ash, water, and pressure did not appear here randomly.
Fang Lin placed the grey talisman into his storage treasure and followed the Alliance group forward.
Behind him, Silent Steps Hall returned to stillness.
Ahead, the sound of the Ashen River grew louder.
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