As Tom wandered through the garden—which he had entered after passing through that gateway—he remarked:
"Truly a strange place."
His tone was filled with wonder as he gazed upon the breathtakingly beautiful forest.
"Tom, haven't you grown tired of looking at the garden yet?"
The voice that suddenly spoke was calm and melodious—so much so that one might easily overlook the underlying insult.
Tom turned his gaze toward the source of the voice and discovered a magnificent greenhouse crafted from white gold and yellow gold, adorned with intricate, contrasting patterns. Inside sat a woman of stunning beauty, with long white hair and light violet eyes. Her appearance was so captivating that it could easily entice any man; yet, Tom felt no attraction toward her whatsoever—a phenomenon that went beyond mere mental fortitude or psychological strength.
It felt as though he were looking at a reflection of himself, a realization that brought a faint smile to his lips.
"Alessandra—or perhaps Xiao Qing—or, to be more precise, the Sacred Yin. A pleasure to meet you."
Tom's tone was calm, imbued with both nobility and humility—a stark contrast to the sharp, serious demeanor he displayed when dealing with the Sacred Yang.
"Hehehe, you are truly a refined individual; you always know exactly what to say, no matter the setting. Very well, then—do come inside the greenhouse." The Sacred Yin's voice was calm and melodious as she gazed toward Tom, who approached with steady, measured strides—the gait of a seasoned warrior and a composed nobleman.
Upon reaching her, he offered a slight bow before taking a seat in a nearby chair, directly across from the Sacred Yin.
As soon as he sat, a teapot and a teacup stirred from their places, gliding toward him; the pot then began to fill his cup.
"How many spoonfuls of sugar would you like, Mr. Tom Fragelson?"
Her tone carried an air of nobility—fitting, given her lineage from the Central Continent, where the political system is rooted in a Victorian-style aristocratic order. It was only natural that her mannerisms would reflect such a refined, noble heritage.
"Just two, Miss Alessandra."
Tom's voice was calm, his accent subtle—as if he had spent years honing it to achieve such perfect, polished precision.
A faint smile graced Alessandra's lips. With a slight nod, a sugar spoon moved toward Tom's cup, depositing its contents twice in succession before beginning to stir the tea.
Tom took a sip. The tea was bitter, foul, and utterly undrinkable. Yet, he remained composed, setting the cup back down on the table while a faint, practiced smile lingered on his face. Then, he turned his gaze toward Alessandra, who was watching him with that calm smile—a smile that held no trace of genuine, positive emotion.
"Mr. Tom Fragelson, how was the tea? Was it delicious, or did you not care for it?"
Alessandra's tone remained composed as she glanced at Tom's teacup with a flicker of subtle mischief, before shifting her eyes back to him.
A look of bewilderment crossed Tom's face. Yet, he could not bring himself to say it was bad—that would have gone against the principles of a gentleman and the standards of virtuous conduct.
"Yes, it is delicious."
Tom's voice was steady as he took another sip, prompting a soft, light laugh from Alessandra.
Seeing his confused expression, Alessandra decided to speak, hoping to clear the perplexity from his mind.
"Sentient beings are truly peculiar—much like you. Even though the tea is quite undrinkable, you claimed it was delicious and took another sip. That is how life is, and how those who live it are; despite tasting bitterness, pain, and suffering, they still cling to it.
Life is beautiful on the surface—much like the appearance of this teacup or this enchanting greenhouse—yet it is bitter, arduous, and rife with filth, much like the foul taste of this tea or the garden's fruit once it begins to wither. Do you understand, Tom? Even within the good, there exists evil—if only the size of a grain—and within the evil, there is always some good, however small." Alessandra's tone remained as calm as ever as she gazed toward Tom, who was leaning back in his chair.
By nature, human beings love life; no matter how difficult or harsh it may be, they will always prefer to remain in this world. Even if life is merely a playground for games and amusement, it is fleeting—yet, however long it lasts, they will always yearn for it to continue.
Life is like a forest: beautiful, yet home to lions and predators, where only the strongest survive. Such is life—lovely and sweet on the surface, but ugly and bitter at its core.
"You're right, Alessandra. But when will your 'test of merit' actually begin?"
Tom's voice was calm, though his patience had reached its limit. He had spent thousands of years in the third trial, over eight hundred years in the second, and a mere four days in the first. So much time had passed; this time, he wanted to finish the trial quickly.
Alessandra's expression shifted from pure composure to a look tinged with a hint of mischief and amusement as she turned toward Tom.
"Be patient—patience is the key to relief, and change is the key to success."
Her tone remained as calm as ever, yet it carried a subtle wish for his good fortune.
Suddenly, the world began to shrink, contracting into a tiny sphere of light, before exploding just seconds later.
...
In a land that served as a battlefield, the atmosphere felt like the final Ragnarök—the most fitting description for the aura emanating from this field of war. On the battlefield, several individuals remained standing—despite their severe physical injuries and the clear exhaustion etched onto their faces. They masked this, however, with gazes filled with rage and wariness directed at the person standing before them.
"Zhao Li, today is the day we put an end to this farce—a farce that began more than seven hundred trillion years ago. We will bring it to a complete and final end."
Alessandra's tone was sharp, yet it was also heavy with hatred and a desperate longing for release from this hell—a hell of life and death that simply refused to come to an end.
Again... and again... again... and again... again... and again...
This cycle of life and death had become an exhausting burden; in truth, they had never truly lived their own lives. And they had triedIt was time to root out the problem entirely—by ending their lives once and for all.
Zhao Li remained silent for several minutes following Alessandra's words. Although he knew she was right—that they had to put an end to the cycle of life and death in which they were trapped—he had other thoughts.
"I know, but I won't die. I have no intention of doing so. You understand what I mean. If we don't wish to live for ourselves, then let us live for *her*. She has been waiting for us ever since that betrayal by the wretched Zhao Li-Yong. I took that wretch's name for myself, just to keep the memory of that vile scoundrel alive. As long as I exist, his existence persists. Do you understand?"
Zhao Li's tone was as cold as frost, devoid of any anger or emotion; he was merely stating their objectives and the nature of their existence.
Nevertheless, Alessandra leveled her sword at Zhao Li, showing no sign of abandoning her intent.
On the battlefield, Tom watched them both—Zhao Li and Alessandra—his expression a mixture of sorrow and a profound sense of losing his own identity.
"So, this is what happens in the original timeline: Zhao Li and Alessandra kill each other, and then this fantasy world ceases to exist forever. But what is the connection between them? How does their existence relate to the survival of this world? And where do I fit into all of this?"
Tom's voice was thick with bewilderment; yet, he sensed that his questions would soon be answered—and that these trials were merely the prelude to something far greater. Tom's expression shifted to one of shock as he realized he was inside Zhao Li's body. He recalled that he and Zhao Li shared a single vessel—that in the original timeline, they had occupied one body while battling Alessandra, a conflict that ultimately led to their deaths. For if the soul perishes, everything perishes. Regardless of how many bodies they might inhabit, Zhao Li and Alessandra remained a single soul—the very soul, or fragment of the Sacred Tree of Existence, that Zhao Li had spoken of during the fourth trial.
Tom moved toward Alessandra, his features obscured by the black hair falling across his face.
His steps were steady, a detail that caught Alessandra—and everyone else present—completely off guard.
Halfway across the distance, he cast his two blades—the Heaven's Pearl Sword and the Sword of Great Gluttony—to the ground, signaling that he had no intention of fighting.
"You and your soul have reunited, but what do you hope to achieve by doing this?"
Alessandra's tone was laced with bewilderment and a faint, underlying tension brought on by this sudden shift in the situation.
Her expression turned to shock when Zhao Li pulled her into an embrace. Her sword clattered to the ground, but she recovered almost instantly—less than a fraction of a second later, she regained her composure and tried to push him away. He did not budge an inch, however, holding her arms firmly to keep her from breaking free.
"I am sorry, Alessandra—truly, I apologize. Life is beautiful and delicate; everything in this existence is beautiful and delicate—and life itself is no exception." "Life is harsh when those who inhabit it are scoundrels and wretches who place their own interests above all else; yet, it is beautiful when its inhabitants are peace-loving, striving to improve their world rather than merely seeking to advance themselves. You are like water—taking the shape of whatever vessel holds you—and this holds true for you. You are 'Creation' itself; you fashion the world according to the prevailing circumstances, and we, in turn, live within that world. There is no room for weakness in a realm teeming with the vile rulers of these sordid, imagined worlds. And how could we be anything but vile? After all, a single rotten tomato causes all those around it to spoil."
Tom's tone remained calm as he tightened his embrace around Alessandra, whose expression shifted from suppressed rage to a profound, buried sorrow. She had witnessed death millions of times—so often, in fact, that she no longer knew who she truly was.
Throughout their many lifetimes, both Zhao Li and Alessandra had been haunted by fear, pain, and an absolute sense of loneliness—feelings that only intensified with each new life they led.
Tears streamed down Alessandra's face as she buried her head against Tom's chest. In that moment, she shed all the grandeur and majesty befitting the entity of 'Creation'—the very force that brought this world into existence. She became, for that instant, nothing more than a tender-hearted woman, weeping in the arms of the one person who understood her best: herself—or, rather, a part of herself.
For no one can ever truly understand another person completely—not even when both have endured the exact same hardships—since every individual possesses a unique soul, distinct emotions, a personal perspective on the world, and a singular way of experiencing life. Tom's expression shifted to shock as Alessandra pierced him with her sword. Yet, even as she wiped away the hardened tears from her eyes and flushed cheeks, a faint smile lingered on her face.
"Thank you, Tom—or rather, 'the Soul.' You have successfully completed the fifth trial. My congratulations; now, it is time for you to return."
Alessandra's tone remained calm as she gazed at Tom, whose own expression was now filled with a sense of contentment.
The world began to fade into darkness once more.
Tom opened his eyes to find himself sitting before Alessandra, back in his original chair.
Alessandra looked at him with her customary smile, stirring sugar into her tea before taking a sip.
"Congratulations, Tom. You have successfully completed all five trials—though there is still one final matter to attend to."
"So, it is finally over—after all these hardships and sacrifices. And yet, I have no regrets regarding what I have done, nor what I may do in the future."
Tom's voice was steady as he looked up toward the ceiling of the greenhouse, a wry smile playing on his lips.
"Very well, Tom. You may conclude the trial by passing through this door."
As she spoke, Alessandra gestured toward a gateway—one resembling the portals he had used to enter the first and fifth trials, as well as the final exit. However, the inscription upon it differed from the previous instances; it now read:
[O you who have transcended the five gifts, prove your worthiness to become the Supreme Ruler—the embodiment of both destruction and creation.] Continue your journey toward the power you have rightfully earned, and rebuild your fallen glory to its former state. Forge an infinite path of power—and walk it. But remember: no path is without its sacrifices and risks.
Tom turned his gaze back toward Alessandra, only to find that she had vanished from where she stood. Yet, unlike the previous time, he was not surprised.
He shifted his focus once more toward the gateway—the conclusion of the first stage among hundreds that lay ahead on his path to absolute power.
He opened it with ease.The runes on the stone gateway glowed with an intense, golden radiance—unlike the previous two times, when no light had appeared at all. Yet, Tom's expression remained unchanged as he stepped through the gateway, beyond which he would encounter someone who might—or might not—provide the answers he sought.
"I have cleared a crucial milestone in laying the foundation that will enable me to achieve my goal."
Tom's tone was filled with the determination and confidence required to surmount an impossible peak.