Tower of Heaven

Now, yes. Responding to someone witnessing an embarrassing moment by trying to kill them was never the right thing to do, especially when they were close friends.

Only, when Atlas looked at the person in front of him, he immediately knew they were fake.

After all…

"You are supposed to be trapped in the underworld right now."

Bang!

His blade swung forward. It was met with two arms that were crossed in front of the body. The sharp blades made of Iridescent Steel would have drawn blood from anyone considering the amount of power Atlas used, but when it cut into that person's skin, nothing happened.

It was as if he'd cut into rubber. He looked up into their eyes and recognized that there wasn't a hint of expression.

"You are not Aria."

But the fact that Artemia was here meant that the manor had looked into his memories.

'Since she is the one that appeared, it only looked into the most recent thoughts in my mind.'

He was only just thinking about Artemia and Horus who were trapped in the underworld. Why did Artemia appear instead of Horus…?

Well, there were plenty of reasons for that,

Putting that aside, Atlas continued to attack. The fake Artemia's eyes remained hollow as it responded to the attacks. At a certain point, it started to fight back, but that was irrelevant to Atlas.

This projection did not have any of her power. It only had her appearance. At most, the fake could attack physically, but what could it do to an Atlas who had already caught it in his rhythm?

The point of the fake was to startle the cultivators who arrived in this room. When they were stunned, it could approach them and kill them with its physical attacks. The entire basis of its strength was the element of surprise, so without it, the fake crumbled.

Artemia's appearance melted away first, revealing a clay figure that roughly resembled a human. When Atlas cut that figure apart, its pieces squirmed away and hid in the corners of the room.

Click!

Atlas heard the door unlock. It seemed he had done enough to pass the trial.

However, even then, his body erupted with flame qi.

"I don't know what you are, but since you are a being of this realm, then the most you can be is a trapped soul or a pseudo-creature."

Nothing in this place truly existed. That meant even the living beings were only manifestations of qi. Their flesh was fake. Their blood was fake.

'The chimera beast was different from the rest. Its eyes were not the same, which is why I took its corpse. The rest were completely useless, so I left them alone.'

This beast was also fake in more ways than one. Its ability was strange, and its reaction was like a puppet. Rather than leaving it to hide and regrow at a later time, Atlas burned the room, turning its bits and pieces to cinders.

Once that was taken care of, Atlas left the room. He found himself in a long corridor filled with rooms on both sides. When he spread his spiritual sense and penetrated those rooms, he only saw darkness, which fueled his curiosity.

That was until he opened a door and got pulled into his first room.

It was almost an entirely new simulated environment, but it existed on an extremely small scale. At least for this corridor, the goal of each room was simple. Atlas only had to confront the beast in the room and then he would be freed when he won.

It became annoying when it had to be done over and over again. Atlas walked through the corridor only to be stopped at every other room to kill beasts. He progressed and progressed, accumulating death energy until he reached the end.

Once again, the path forked in two directions. Since he chose the right last time, he went left this time.

The world flipped over and Atlas fell onto the ceiling. He landed somewhat gracefully and walked without minding the change. The world continued to flip every few minutes as he progressed, but he continuously ignored it.

In fact, his dexterity was improving as he acclimated to the changing orientation of the corridor. More importantly, he was starting to get a feel for the absolute force that kept him held down to the ground. It was related to the Dao of Earth and the concept of weight, but also a completely different Law of Heaven entirely.

Atlas didn't understand why such comprehensions were entering his mind, but he didn't question it. He took them in and internalized them as he moved on.

'This is starting to seem like more of a playground than a maze.'

It was definitely like the house was trying to toy with them. It was enjoying their tribulations but not seriously attempting to kill them.

That wasn't to say that they couldn't die. If they really were stupid, then death was always lurking around the corner. If they had some sense, they were fine.

Atlas traversed the manor in a way that built this mentality until he finally encountered other cultivators.

He found himself in a large dining room with a table long enough to seat twenty people. He was the twentieth person to enter the room, which meant that everyone's gazes were on him when he walked in.

"Hmm…"

He made a subtle sound as he took the last empty seat and glanced around. There was only one face that he recognized, which was that of the red-haired man. None of them were speaking. Atlas opened his own mouth, only to realize that he could not formulate words.

The sounds coming out of his mouth were just that. Sounds without any meaning. Frowning, he understood that everyone encountered the same problem.

Once Atlas was properly seated, no more than a minute passed in silence before changes started to occur. Abruptly, music filled the dining room. The orchestral harmony was reminiscent of sadness, loneliness, and a bit of joy.

As the twenty cultivators watched, the doors they used to enter the room opened on their own, and a plethora of carts drove themselves into the hall. They were, of course, filled with an assortment of dishes.

Various meats, side dishes, soups, stews, rice dishes, and many more items were placed on the table in front of the curious Ascenders. None of them touched the food until they heard that voice.

"Guests have come for the first time in a long time. Welcome in! Enjoy our hospitality."

The voice crackled like it was nothing more than a recording stored on a broken record crystal. Atlas was the only one who reacted in surprise, so he assumed that everyone else had already heard the voice as they explored the manor.

"The dishes in front of you are the specialities of our nation. Half of them are splendid dishes meant for loyal subjects, and the other half are poisoned, awaiting the traitorous mouths that will consume them."

The dishes rearranged themselves so that between each pair that faced each other across the table, there were two choices.

"One of you will live, and one of you will die."

The crackling voice continued in a playful tone.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

"But which will it be?"