Absolute Cheater-Chapter 239: Adventure II

The moment Asher and Valeris stepped through the veil of the Heaven's Rift, the world around them twisted.

The light bent unnaturally, like glass melting in slow motion. The air felt thick with intent—ancient, unknowable, and vast. For a single heartbeat, everything was still.

And then—

Space fractured.

Not shattered like a broken mirror, but more like it decided to rearrange itself. Asher's hand, which had been holding Valeris', passed through mist instead of flesh. His surroundings turned from vivid forest glades to a storm-lit sky, with floating islands drifting in the distance like pieces of a forgotten dream.

"Valeris?" he called out, calmly but with intent. His voice echoed strangely, as if the realm itself was listening.

There was no answer.

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She, too, had been pulled elsewhere.

***

Valeris

She found herself standing atop a sea of crystal flowers—each step causing them to chime softly beneath her feet. The sky here was a muted violet, stars visible even in daylight. It was beautiful, but eerie. And it was clear to her instantly:

They were separated as they entered inside.

"This realm has a will of its own," she murmured, recalling the line from the scroll.

She closed her eyes, letting her senses stretch far beyond the visible. The threads of fate, of space and soul, whispered faintly. Somewhere out there—far, but still reachable—was Asher.

He was safe. For now.

She opened her eyes, now gleaming brighter with divine rainbow light.

"Fine," she whispered. "Let's see what game you're playing."

Asher

High above the ground, Asher stood on a jagged cliff edge overlooking a vast, shifting desert. Towers of sand danced in spirals, and ruins pulsed with old energy in the distance. The wind whispered names he didn't recognize, languages long dead and forgotten.

But his stance was relaxed.

Calm. Focused.

"They separated us," he said softly, his red eyes scanning the land. "A test? Or a challenge?"

He didn't mind either.

Across the Realm…

As Heaven's Rift closed behind them and the light of the barrier faded, the cultivators quickly realized what had happened:

They had all been separated.

But there was no panic.

They had expected this.

From the moment whispers of Heaven's Rift spoke of a realm with will, the major sects had prepared for the worst. It was known that realms like these often scattered their challengers—testing individuals in isolation, breaking formations and alliances before they could form.

So when each disciple found themselves alone—in deserts of cracked glass, forests of whispering bones, sky islands high above the clouds—they didn't scream or flail in fear.

Instead, they moved.

Calm. Focused. Trained.

Every one of them reached for the artifacts prepared by their sects—crafted talismans, soul-linked pendants, or directional compasses embedded with tracking arrays. Each tool pulsed with faint spiritual light, scanning the ether for familiar signatures.

Not for comfort.

Not for fear.

But to ensure that no solo member of their group was killed before the true trials began.

This realm was no arena of alliances—it was a battlefield. Every participant was a competitor. Every encounter could mean a clash of fists, blades, or soul techniques. And if any of their own were to fall before the real opportunities even revealed themselves… it would be a loss the sects would not tolerate.

In the distance, faint glows flickered—signs that some sect members had found each other already. Others began converging based on artifact guidance, cautious but swift.

Still, some remained separated—hidden by the realm's strange fog, locked in personal trials, or diverted by unknown forces.

But none of them truly worried.

This was part of the plan.

***

Asher stood in silence, his crimson eyes slowly adjusting to the dim, amber-tinted haze that hung in the air.

The ground beneath his boots cracked with each step—smooth, blackened stone riddled with thin glowing veins, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. The air here was heavy with pressure, like standing beneath the surface of a deep ocean, though he could breathe easily.

Above him, the sky was fractured—shards of clouds suspended like broken glass, glowing faintly with unnatural hues. Lightning danced silently between them, but no thunder ever followed.

Heaven's Rift had placed him in a strange domain.

A realm of silence. A forgotten battlefield.

Scorched weapon fragments lay half-buried in the obsidian soil. Towers of bone, some taller than cities, jutted from the land like ancient monuments to a war lost to time. A ruined statue of some long-dead celestial warrior loomed in the distance, its head missing, sword shattered.

Asher's gaze swept across it all without alarm.

"This place reeks of so much resentment," he muttered.

But he wasn't disturbed.

In fact… he welcomed it.

He took a breath, tasting the energy in the air. It wasn't just ambient mana—it was dense, refined, ancient. This was a land that had devoured cultivators for thousands of years, and in doing so… it had matured.

A perfect place to grow stronger.

He reached into his robes and withdrew a fragment of silvery jade—the artifact tethered to Valeris. It pulsed once in his palm, steady and clear.

She was alive. She was near.

But not too near.

Asher smirked faintly. "Alright then… Let's see what this realm has to offer before I find you."

The deeper Asher walked into the fractured terrain, the more the land seemed to shift around him—not physically, but spiritually. He could feel it now: Heaven's Rift wasn't just an ancient battleground.

It was a test.

A will.

A living realm that watched… waited… and judged.

Every step he took stirred remnants of ancient formations buried beneath the surface. Symbols long forgotten flickered beneath his boots—glyphs not tied to any known cultivation path. They weren't hostile, yet they seemed to measure him. Probing. Evaluating.

Still, he pressed forward, calm and fearless.

"If this place truly thinks it can weigh my worth," he murmured, his voice barely above the wind, "it had better be ready for the result."

Suddenly, a pressure descended.

From above, something crashed into the earth ahead of him—sending a quake through the surrounding terrain. Dust and glowing ash flew into the air as Asher raised a hand, casually waving away the cloud.

When the haze settled, a creature stood before him.

It was a guardian construct—half-beast, half-machine, forged from spirit metal and bone, with runes etched deep into its hide. Its six eyes glowed crimson, locked on him with undeniable hostility.

A trial.