Chapter 156: Tossing Aura Stones!
Mo Han descended from the mountain eagle, his robe fluttering softly against the cold breeze. Below him sprawled the Fan Family Estate — a cluster of white jade buildings adorned with crimson banners, each etched with the sigil of a soaring phoenix.
As the eagle landed, several guards in dark blue armor stepped forward, their spears crossing lightly in salute. The leading guard bowed. "Visitor, please state your name and purpose. The Fan Family is not open to casual visits."
"Mo Han," he said calmly, his voice level and unhurried. "From the Eternal Night Mansion. I’ve come to rent your training room — for elder rank cultivator practice."
The guard’s brows lifted slightly at the mention of Eternal Night Mansion — that name carried whispers of both power and controversy. Still, he nodded. "Please, follow me, Senior."
They led him through a stone pathway lined with glowing crystal trees, their leaves whispering softly with faint aura winds. The buildings ahead grew taller, until they reached a circular hall made entirely of translucent jade. Above the entrance, carved in elegant gold, were the words:
"Hall of Resonant Trials — Fan Family Elder Chambers."
Inside, the hall buzzed with energy. Cultivators sat waiting in polished marble seats, some reading scrolls, others meditating. The faint hum of formation cores echoed from below the floors. Behind a long counter sat a woman in her late twenties, her poise calm but her eyes sharp, like a hawk used to measuring strength in strangers.
When she noticed Mo Han, she rose with a courteous smile. "Welcome, honored guest. You’re here for a training chamber, I presume?"
"Yes," Mo Han replied, stepping closer. "For elder-rank use."
She nodded briskly, consulting a glowing crystal slate beside her. "Unfortunately, all elder-level rooms are occupied. We’re fully booked today. You can register now and return tomorrow morning. The cost is fifty aura stones per hour."
Mo Han didn’t even blink. "I’ll take it today."
Her brows furrowed slightly, polite but firm. "I apologize, Young Master, but the queue is already set. The Fan Family adheres to strict scheduling—"
Before she could finish, Mo Han raised his hand — and from his spirit ring, a pouch materialized with a solid thud on the counter. The faint metallic jingle of refined aura stones filled the air.
"One thousand aura stones," he said simply. "I’ll pay one hundred per hour. Is that acceptable?"
The woman froze, staring at the pouch as if she had misheard. Then, realizing he was serious, her composure shattered for half a heartbeat before she swiftly stood, bowing deeply.
"Honored cultivator, please forgive my ignorance! We’ll prepare a chamber immediately!"
The nearby attendants straightened in alarm, hurrying into the inner corridors. Within moments, the waiting cultivators murmured among themselves — whispers of shock and envy rippled through the hall.
"Did he just—?"
"One hundred per hour?!"
"Who is that man?"
Mo Han ignored them. His gaze remained forward, calm as still water. Within minutes, the lady returned with two formation attendants and bowed again. "Your room is ready, Young Master Mo Han. Please, follow me."
They led him down a long corridor where the air grew denser with spiritual energy. Each step hummed faintly beneath his boots as formation seals flared to life, scanning his aura.
Finally, they arrived before a massive silver gate carved with shifting animal spirits. The attendant touched a rune on the side panel, and the door opened silently.
"Your room," she said softly, bowing again before retreating.
Mo Han stepped inside.
The chamber was not large — barely the size of a modest hall — its walls smooth and metallic, glowing faintly with runic inscriptions. But as soon as the door sealed behind him, the world shifted.
A ripple spread across the air.
In an instant, the walls dissolved into light.
He stood in the middle of an endless wilderness — a dense, emerald forest stretched before him, sunlight filtering through the canopy. The scent of earth, moss, and wildflowers filled the air. He could even feel the faint breeze on his skin.
"So," he murmured to himself, testing the illusion. "The Fan Family weren’t exaggerating."
The chamber’s illusion was flawless — not a spiritual mirage, but a complete sensory recreation powered by a high-grade formation core. He could feel, hear, and even smell everything as if it were real.
Then came the familiar crystalline voice, neutral and mechanical, echoing from the air itself.
"Welcome to the Resonant Trial Chamber. Please select your desired training environment."
Words materialized before his eyes, made of light.
[1] Forest Combat
[2] Desert Survival
[3] Mountain Cliff
[4] Animal Surge Arena
[5] Elemental Convergence Field
Mo Han’s finger hovered for a second before tapping Animal Surge Arena.
The light flickered.
"Confirmed: Animal Surge Arena. Objective — Survive and neutralize incoming beasts. Difficulty — Elder Rank calibration. Arena initializing."
The ground beneath him trembled. The forest thickened, the trees twisting and darkening. A rumbling began to echo from the distance — heavy, rhythmic, like thunder running across the soil.
Then he heard it — a deep, guttural growl.
The first beast appeared.
It burst through the undergrowth, scattering dirt and leaves — a massive wild boar, easily three times his height. Its golden hide shimmered faintly with runic energy, its tusks sharp as spears. Each breath it took exhaled heat and smoke, its eyes glowing crimson.
Mo Han’s pulse steadied. He exhaled slowly. "Golden Boar Spirit..."
He closed his eyes briefly — and in that heartbeat, he remembered Leo Reynolds’ voice echoing in his mind from the jade slip.
"The first level of Inner Beast Spirit Art — Golden Boar."
As the boar charged, Mo Han’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.
The ground cracked under the beast’s charge, dirt exploding behind it. Its tusks gleamed like twin blades of molten metal.
At the very moment of impact, Mo Han moved.
He twisted his wrist, channeling aura through his sword in a controlled surge. The blade shone faintly — not blazing yet, but alive with restrained fire.
Clang!
His blade met one of the tusks, sparks bursting outward. The sheer force of the boar’s body drove him backward several steps, boots grinding into the soil. But his stance held firm.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"So this is the kind of pressure they simulate."
He adjusted his grip and pushed forward, redirecting the momentum. The boar’s tusk scraped across his blade, and Mo Han twisted to the side, slicing across its shoulder. A burst of light scattered — illusionary, yet the pressure felt painfully real.
The beast roared, turning sharply, hooves tearing into the ground.
Mo Han took a measured breath, aligning his aura with his stance. The boar charged again. This time, he met it not with steel, but with aura.
His free hand extended, palm forward — a thread of energy forming between his fingers.
"Inner Beast Spirit Art — Golden Boar: First Movement, Rooted Pulse."
His aura burst outward like shockwaves through the soil. The earth beneath the boar rippled — and suddenly, its massive body stumbled mid-charge as if the ground itself rebelled. Mo Han darted forward, slicing upward, the impact throwing sparks through the air.
The boar’s image shattered into fragments of golden light, dispersing into the forest.
Silence.
Then came the voice again.
"Evaluation round complete. Accuracy — 84%. Aura control — 91%. Reaction proficiency — 100%. Overall efficiency — 85%."
The illusion flickered, returning briefly to the metallic chamber. Mo Han stood motionless, his sword tip still faintly glowing.
He exhaled slowly, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "Eighty-five percent on the first attempt..."
For the first time since the Golden Crow Syndicate’s declaration, he felt something stir in his chest — not confidence, not arrogance, but focus.
He sheathed his sword, eyes steady. "This will do."
And outside the sealed chamber, the attendants whispered quietly among themselves.
"Who is he?"
"I don’t know... but the Talisman marked him as Elder Tier after one round."
"Only one round?"
They glanced toward the closed silver gate, where faint golden light still-seeped from beneath the frame — steady and untamed, like the pulse of a beast waiting to awaken.