Am I being presumptuous again

Su Ji didn’t even look up as he rummaged through Zhao Xun’s storage pouch, pulling out several bottles of medicinal pills and two small bags of spirit stones.

He counted the stones—eighty-three low-grade spirit stones in total.

A modest windfall.

Then, Su Ji handed the pills to Su Jiu. "Junior Sister, check these pills. Any of them poisoned?"

Su Jiu was speechless. "Qi-Gathering Pills, Bone-Tempering Pills, Minor Divine Pills—all cultivation aids. We’re not demonic cultivators. Who in their right mind carries poison on them? What if they accidentally take the wrong one?"

Su Ji wasn’t convinced. "When I’m rich, I’ll keep a couple of poison pills on me."

Su Jiu shot him a puzzled look. "Why?"

Su Ji grinned. "Think about it. This guy got killed by me. Maybe one day, I’ll end up just like him."

"If I die, I don’t want whoever loots my corpse to just pop my pills like candy."

"At the very least, I’d ruin their day. If I’m lucky, I might even drag them down with me."

Su Jiu sighed. "See, this is why I say you’re cut out for cultivation."

His methods were chillingly professional.

"You don’t feel the slightest discomfort when it comes to killing."

Her voice was soft.

"Most people, when they first step onto the path of immortality, struggle with the mental barrier for at least a couple of years."

"In the eyes of mortals, cultivators are supposed to be transcendent, untouched by worldly filth."

"Flying on swords, riding the wind."

"But they don’t realize—this road is paved with bones."

As she spoke, she extended a slender, jade-like finger.

Her fingertip tensed, glowing faintly red.

With a flick—

Whoosh!

A silent streak of light shot out, landing on the trunk of a nearby blackwood tree.

No clang of metal, no sparks.

The moment the spiritual energy touched the bark, it vanished inside.

A hair-thin cut, over an inch deep, was clearly visible on the trunk.

Having demonstrated this, she turned to Su Ji, as if waiting for his reaction.

And Su Ji did react.

He weighed the spirit stones in his hand and casually remarked,

"Junior Sister, your ‘technique’ seems pretty mediocre."

Su Jiu: "…"

A crack appeared in her calm demeanor.

"That was rude."

Su Ji shrugged, indifferent.

Just then, the incense stick burned out.

[Time’s up.]

[Those who carved three-tenths of an inch may proceed.]

[Those who left no mark shall turn to dust.]

The ethereal voice echoed once more.

As the words faded, the weeds beneath their feet surged wildly, dragging the corpse of the man Su Ji had killed into the earth.

Then, the forest of twisted trees trembled violently. The scenery rippled like water, growing hazy before their eyes.

A moment later—the world spun.

When Su Ji and Su Jiu steadied themselves again, they stood in an endless void of darkness.

Beneath them stretched a path of unknown material, winding into the unseen distance.

On either side, an abyss of pitch-black nothingness.

[Technique mastered, the road is long.]

[With a steadfast heart, the Dao stretches far.]

[Family, dear friends, lovers, master and disciple… all are attachments, all are inner demons.]

[Sever worldly ties, and the true Great Dao shall reveal itself.]

[This is the Path of Heart’s Trial.]

[Step forth!]

The voice reverberated through the void.

Su Ji felt nothing. To him, the trial’s premise was cliché—just another "cut off all emotions" trope common in cultivation lore.

He glanced at Su Jiu beside him and, with pure curiosity, asked a question he found perfectly logical:

"Junior Sister, are all your family members already dead?"

"…"

Su Jiu whipped her head toward him.

A vein throbbed visibly at her temple, betraying the storm of emotions she was suppressing.

She clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to slap him.

After a long pause, she forced out through gritted teeth,

"Still rude."

Su Ji blinked. "Still?"

Su Jiu didn’t answer. "Hmph."

"Dead family’s a good thing. No attachments, free pass through this trial."

Su Jiu: ???

Now she believed the old saying: "The pitiable have their hateful traits."

She was starting to suspect that even if Su Ji kept his spiritual roots, he’d still end up a demonic cultivator.

With "talent" like his, he’d rise straight to Sainthood in a demonic sect.

Ignoring him, she stepped onto the Path of Heart’s Trial.

Su Ji didn’t follow immediately.

He stood still, observing the fifty or so figures already walking the path.

Their attire varied wildly—some draped in brocade like nobility, others clad in rough beast hides reeking of primal wilderness, and a few in flowing Daoist robes, the very picture of immortal grace.

Clearly, the "entrance" granted access to this secret realm’s trials, not a physical location.

The cultivators from different regions displayed a spectrum of reactions:

A burly man clutched his head, face contorted as if enduring unspeakable torment.

Nearby, a young woman wept silently, murmuring words too faint to decipher.

Closest to Su Ji, an elderly Daoist suddenly threw back his head and laughed madly.

"Hahahaha! Severed! This old man has succeeded!"

His laughter brimmed with frenzied euphoria.

Su Ji raised an eyebrow.

Spear in hand, he sauntered toward the cackling Daoist—making sure to stay off the trial path.

In one fluid motion, he thrust the spear toward the man’s back.

Just before the tip pierced the robe—

A faint glow shimmered around the Daoist, halting the spear’s advance.

A gentle but inexorable force traveled up the shaft, numbing Su Ji’s wrist.

So, the path’s rules protected participants from outside interference.

Satisfied, Su Ji withdrew his spear.

With no risk of ambush during the trial, he finally stepped onto the Path of Heart’s Trial.

The ground felt solid, yet the world spun violently the moment his foot touched it.

When his vision cleared—

He stood before a dilapidated wooden hut.

This hut existed in his earliest memories.

His cradle in this life, and the cage that held him for over a decade.

Worse than the shed he’d lived in as a servant, its walls were mud-plastered, crumbling at every breeze.

The thatched roof was so sparse that sunlight leaked through in thin strands.

A hunched man squatted by the door, scratching something into the dirt with a twig.

His patched hemp robe was faded from endless washing.

Beside him, an equally gaunt woman scrubbed a tub of grimy clothes, her hands raw from the icy well water.

They were his parents.

Su Ji’s appearance barely registered.

The man merely lifted a weary eyelid.

"You’re awake?"

The woman didn’t turn around, only pausing briefly in her movements.

"The weeds in the field need pulling."

The man gestured with his chin toward the barren plot of land outside the door.

Su Ji didn’t move.

He studied the two people before him—his so-called family in name only.

They looked exactly as they did in his memories.

This so-called "Path of Heart Trials" was truly looking down on him.

Were these kinds of worthless figures even fit to be his inner demons?

"Come, let’s go pull the weeds together."

The withered branch in the man’s hand stilled as he lifted his head. For the first time, his face—etched with the ravages of time—showed a clear expression.

It was the kind of astonishment that came with absolute certainty.

"I’m old, my bones are practically falling apart. It’s time I enjoyed some peace."

He pointed the withered branch first at himself, then at Su Ji, his voice rising.

"What else did I raise you for, if not to rely on you in my old age? To serve me like an ox or a horse?"

Su Ji smiled.

He slowly walked forward until his shadow engulfed the man entirely.

"You’re right."

The man faltered, as if he hadn’t expected that response.

"At least you’ve got some conscience left—"

Thunk.

A sharp spear tip pierced through the man’s heart without warning, sending a spray of warm blood splattering onto the cold, muddy ground.

The words on the man’s face froze mid-sentence, his look of righteous astonishment forever etched into his features.

He glanced down in disbelief at the gleaming white spearhead protruding from his chest.

He couldn’t understand.

Su Ji withdrew the spear, flicking off the droplets of blood clinging to its tip.

"I didn’t need you to tell me. I would’ve taken care of you in your old age—it was my duty."

"But you pointed at me and demanded I serve you like a beast of burden."

"That just made me think you’d lost your mind from age. Time to send you off."

The woman scrubbing clothes finally turned around at that moment.

She stared blankly at the man lying in a pool of blood, then at Su Ji, still gripping his spear. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Finally, she sighed. "Well… it’s for the best."

Su Ji didn’t spare her another glance.

If worldly attachments were nothing but shackles, then severing them was the only way.

He couldn’t even tolerate a fat steward’s extortion—how could he endure this kind of blood-sucking familial bond?

Not long after he killed his "father," the wooden hut, the fields, even the numb-faced woman—all of it crumbled like sand scattered by the wind, dissolving into nothingness.

The path paved with an unknown material reappeared beneath his feet.

Su Ji realized he was already standing at its end.

Not far away, the old Taoist who had been laughing maniacally earlier had been sent back to the starting point.

He stared blankly at his hands, as if still dazed by the remnants of the illusion.

Meanwhile, Su Jiu was only a few steps away from the finish line.

Su Ji was surprised. She hadn’t finished yet?

Seems this "reborn" junior sister’s "inner demons" weighed rather heavily on her…