The Wheel Of Samsara 81 Those At The Peak Viii

Her hands and arms were covered in scratches, cuts and bruises. Her limbs were burning with pain and her body felt heavy. Her breathing was rough and she was exhausted. Still, she never stopped climbing, doing her best to not be left behind.

She looked at Reynard in the lead, soon disappearing in the vortex of clouds that was right above them. She felt mixed emotions as she saw it.

On one hand, she really wanted to defeat Reynard and prove to him and herself that she was above him. She wanted to prove that she was more than an a.s.set to be used by their sects in a political maneuver.

On the other hand, she was pus.h.i.+ng herself to herself to her limit, and she was not sure if she would be able to keep up with the mad pace Reynard had set.

Nevertheless, she would not give up. She refused to. Even if she lost, she would fight until the bitter end.

Even if she lost, she would make sure the fire inside her had burned the fiercest. She would scorch in the earth the path she had treaded, making sure people never forgot her struggle.

She looked down for but a moment. Jake and Alden were beneath her, but not by much. Her gaze, however, was set in the tiny dots far below her. She was looking at the companions she had left behind in the climb. The people she abandoned in her prideful decision.

"I'm sorry." She said in a remorseful voice, before looking up again, to the barrier of white clouds that blocked her vision of the peak.

She would never go down silently. Even if it was meaningless, she would always affirm herself.

She raised a hand, tightly holding the silver ring hanging from her neck. Behind the perennial mist that masked her face, Anna's blue eyes shone with fierce pa.s.sion as she resumed her climb.

She was done playing by other people's rules.

At once, she finally reached the clouds and she almost collapsed in the leveled ground that gave her a chance to rest. Her chest heaved up and down as she closed her eyes and forcefully tried to control her rough breathing.

Her limbs were trembling and her clothes were drenched in sweat, her skin was flushed and her body was hot due to the effort. The cool mist that surrounded her was very refres.h.i.+ng, very comfortable as it helped cooling her down and recovering somewhat.

After but a few moments, Anna forced herself to move again. She had no time to waste. She gritted her teeth as she hurried her steps. Her muscles were tense and her legs were rigid, about to cramp at any moment. Because of this, her movements were very awkward, but she never stopped.

She tightly held the ring close to her chest, and her eyes grew fiercer as she moved forward.

At that moment, however, the ground quaked. The mountain rumbled and the earth cracked, making Anna lose her balance.

Tumbling back as she desperately tried to regain her footing, she saw a gigantic shadow looming over her. From the mist, a gargantuan figure was forming.

It was at least one hundred meters high and two hundred meters wide. It was hard to make its precise shape due to its ma.s.sive size, but Anna froze in place as she seemed to recognize what she was facing.

The air turned unbearably cold. So cold that even Anna started trembling. The cracked ground turned muddy before a layer of ice covered it, and Anna's surroundings started to slowly freeze, as if time had stopped.

She looked ahead with an unyielding expression, as the horrifying cold penetrated her skin, chilling her to the bones and making her movements sluggish. There was no room for warmth in such a place.

The fire inside Anna started flickering.

A freezing wind blew in her direction as the figure moved. From the mist, a head surged. What seemed to be a pitch-black beak took form from the mist, adorning a mouth so big that it could swallow a hill. Full of cracks and marks, that sharp beak had a dangerous l.u.s.ter, and seemed to be able to easily snap a small mountain in half.

A pair of enormous frosty blue eyes looked at Anna, surrounded by black scales that seemed more like armor plates. As it focused on Anna, the temperature fell even further, and a thin layer of frost started covering her.

Her expression turned incredibly solemn, but her unyielding eyes were still the same.

The flame was flickering in front of the cold, but Anna would never let it go out.

She quietly sustained the gaze of the G.o.dbeast that served as the Guardian of the Northern Continent, and the ultimate reliance of the Noan River Sect.

The so-called Black Sovereign.

---

Reynard was walking through the white mist on top of the mountain with confident steps. His yellow clothes were turning damp due to the humidity, but he did not pay it any mind. With his sword in hand, he walked forward, not caring in the slightest to his surroundings.

He was certain that he would be the first to reach the peak. All of the other three inheriting disciples had been left behind in his crazy rush to the top. In truth, he felt somewhat disheartened. He had even given then a head start, but he still ended up easily taking the lead not long after.

It was way too easy. There had been no real challenge. He played around with them for a bit, as if he was struggling as much as they were and attacking each other, but the situation never got out of his control. It was disappointing.

It was boring.

Reynard loved to win, loved to challenge others. As long as they were worthy opponents, that is. He found no pleasure in playing with the weak. It brought him no growth, it brought him no benefits. Playing with the weak would never help him turn stronger and, as such, he refused to do so.

Even Anna Hale, who was clearly doing her best, was left behind. She was faster than Jake and Alden, but it was still not enough. More than anything, this had left Reynard with a bitter taste in his mouth.

He knew the race was meaningless. He knew he had baited the others into it, but he still wanted it to be more interesting. There were some hard truths that he had to deal with, and one of those was that achieving strength was both a struggle against one's surroundings and one's self.

What was the point of reaching the peak if everything would be so simple?

What was the point of reaching the peak if he was not as strong as he believed he could become?

It would be all meaningless, a waste. An empty victory that he would never be able to relish.

Reaching the peak like this would never make him feel fulfilled. Reynard liked the struggle he had to go through to turn stronger. He loved it. This was probably the reason he was so strong in the first place.

Thankfully, however, this world was filled with truly strong people. People he had not met yet. People he had not defeated yet.

The thought alone made him tremble with excitement. Yes, he couldn't waste time with the other inheriting disciples. There were too many lines he could draw on them. He was far above them now. This race just proved his point.

His mission was partially complete and he confirmed his superiority. There was not much worth his attention in the h.e.l.lblaze Trials anymore, at least not until he reached the peak.

Nevertheless, he still hoped that Anna would give him a pleasant surprise. The clear line that divided her before seemed to be fainter every time Reynard tried to probe her. She had found an interesting resolution in the Trial of the Will. He hoped it could bloom into something great someday, something that would give him the excitement he wished.

He gave a faint smile as he walked forward. No matter how many victories he had, very few of them remained in his memories. His defeats, however, he remembered in detail.

Only two people had defeated him during his life. Both of them being exceedingly strong, proving to Reynard just how weak he really was.

That weakness, however, made him both bitter and glad.

Being weak in front of others meant that he could grow stronger. There were more people he could pursue, more milestones in his journey.

Being weak in front of others also meant just that. He was still weak; he was still far away from the peak.

These different ideas might seem conflicting at first, but in truth, they complemented each other very well. Both of these feelings pushed Reynard in the same direction, both of them gave him the drive he needed to turn stronger.

As Reynard moved, he heard light footsteps ahead of him. He stopped in place and raised a brow as a silhouette started forming in front of him.

It took the shape of a tall man, fully clad in black and holding a dark, curved sword in his right hand. The sword had no guard, as if attacking was the only concern of the wielder. You would never have to defend if you were strong enough to obliterate your opponent before he could strike back, after all.

"It is not enough." The man said in a cold voice as he looked at Reynard with an indifferent expression. "I truly don't see how Master values you so much."

As he saw the man, Reynard's smile turned wider and a savage light lit in his dark eyes.

In front of him was one of the two that had defeated him. The one Reynard wanted to draw a line upon so much that his hands started trembling in excitement.

"What is this?" Reynard asked in a mocking tone at the figure that turned increasingly clear in front of him. Reynard had heard the words the figure spewed before. The man had said them right after he defeated Reynard years ago.

It had not been a fair fight. It was never intended to be. Reynard had been utterly humiliated that day, and in front of his master, nonetheless. It had been a pure display of strength that put Reynard in his place, a moment of shame that branded him.

This was what the Trial of the Heart was, after all. A trial were the cultivators had to face their traumas, their regrets, and show that it would never weight them down on their pursuit of the peak.

A trial for cultivators to face the devils they carried in their hearts.

A trial where their weaknesses would be exposed.

A trial that would either break them or make them.

"I am sorry, but you are not qualified to be my Heart Devil." Reynard said with a sneer as he waved the curved sword in his hands. A thin layer of light enveloped the sword forming a bright edge.

Reynard took a step forward, and somehow seemed to be sliding through the ground as that single step made him move several meters. He appeared in front of the man clad in black as he slashed with his sword, splitting him in half in a fluid, calculated motion.

The man exploded in a cloud of red mist that Reynard promptly dispersed with a wave of his sword, not letting it touch him at all.

"At most you are a stepping stone, not something that will ever hold me back." Reynard scoffed and started walking forward again, as if nothing had happened in the first place.

He might still be weak, but he would crush that weakness by himself. He refused to have regrets; he refused to be held back by things of the past. At most, they would push him forward.

The only person he had to prove something to was himself, and no one else.