Earth's Greatest Magus

Chapter 3013: Grand Tribulation

Emery arrived at the same place where he had stood a decade ago—the arena carved into the heart of the golden mountain, where the Divine Instrument awaited.

The same ancient sigils still burned across the floor, resonating faintly with the laws of the cosmos. Yet the arena was no longer as he remembered it. New formations had been layered throughout the chamber, high-grade arrays woven into the walls like glowing veins beneath stone, pulsing with restrained power that made the very air feel heavy.

The facility was packed.

Hundreds of elite guards stood along the perimeter in perfect formation, while beyond them Emery counted more than three dozen Grand Magus gathered in solemn silence. When his divine sense swept across the chamber, it encountered several presences whose depths he could not perceive at all.

Three Cosmos cultivators.

And beyond even them...

The Supreme himself.

A small group soon broke away from the crowd and approached him.

Veyarel led them, his reconstructed body now once again radiating the aura of a Three Cosmos Grand Magus. Beside him walked two younger elites, one of whom Emery recognized immediately.

Izzak the Unbreakable.

The Karat faction’s foremost genius, and the very man Emery had once crossed blades with during the Karat civil conflict. The young cultivator now possessed the aura of a peak One Cosmos Grand Magus, and he offered Emery a respectful salute as he approached.

"Seeing you again," Izzak said with a faint smile, "makes me embarrassed to still be called a genius."

Emery returned the gesture with equal respect. Though Izzak remained a realm below him, neither of them considered him an ordinary Grand Magus.

This was hardly the time for reminiscing, however.

Emery turned to Veyarel.

"Will you be assisting with the tribulation?"

Veyarel shook his head.

"Me? No. I’ve yet to fully recover." He gestured toward the arena with a faint smile. "I’m here to guard the facility. Besides..." His gaze swept across the gathered experts. "All the strongest guardians are here."

Emery followed his gaze.

The Patriarch of the Karat Faction finally emerged.

Rosin Karat crossed the arena without haste, his hands clasped behind his back as though he were taking an evening stroll rather than preparing to face the greatest trial of his life. He looked exactly as Emery remembered him—calm, composed, and utterly unhurried, carrying the weight of ten thousand years as though it meant nothing at all.

Four figures followed closely behind.

Khalid, the Eastern Guardian, his weathered face as stern as ever.

Boyd, the Western Guardian, a giant of a man whose broad frame resembled a fortress wall.

Schenable, commander of the Karat elite forces, his eyes sharp beneath neatly tied silver hair.

And finally Xavier, the faction’s foremost general and Rosin Karat’s eldest son.

All powerful three cosmos.

Emery recognized every one of them.

Decades earlier, during the Karat civil conflict, these men had stood on opposite sides of a bitter struggle that had nearly torn the faction apart. Now they moved in perfect unity, taking their places at the four corners of the arena with the quiet efficiency of veterans who fully understood the burden about to fall upon their shoulders.

To Emery’s surprise, Rosin did not immediately enter the formation.

Instead, the Supreme changed direction and walked toward him.

"I’m glad you came."

The old patriarch rested one enormous hand on Emery’s shoulder.

Emery bowed respectfully.

"I came to witness your successful tribulation, Senior."

Rosin laughed softly, but the amusement quickly faded. Lowering his voice until only Emery could hear, he allowed his gaze to drift toward a reinforced observation platform overlooking the arena.

Several important figures had gathered there behind layers of protective formations.

Hassa Karat, the heir apparent to the faction.

Beside him stood his daughter, Tessa.

"If..." Rosin said quietly, "I should fail... I hope you’ll help take care of them."

Emery froze.

For a brief moment, no words came.

The request carried far more weight than it appeared. It was not merely a favor—it was the entrustment of his family.

Composing himself, Emery answered as steadily as he could.

"You think too highly of me, Senior. Still, if that day ever comes, I will do everything within my power to honor your request."

He paused before meeting the elder’s eyes.

"But I don’t believe they will ever need me."

"Because you will succeed."

Rosin studied him silently for a long moment.

Then the old patriarch smiled—the faint, confident smile of a man who had already accepted whatever fate awaited him—and turned away without another word, walking alone toward the center of the arena.

Emery watched him go, something cold settling in his chest.

"Has the elder fully recovered?" he asked quietly.

Veyarel exhaled a long, heavy breath.

"Not yet," he murmured. "Ninety percent. But it cannot be delayed any further."

Three thousand years the storm had waited.

This major calamity would be the greatest trial of Rosin Karat’s ten-thousand-year existence.

Emery took his place at the edge of the arena. Though his expression remained perfectly composed, his thoughts were anything but.

He wanted Rosin to survive.

Not merely out of respect, though there was certainly no shortage of that. The truth was colder, and Emery did not bother lying to himself. There were precious few Supreme cultivators willing to stand behind the Earth Faction, and Rosin Karat was among the greatest of them. If the patriarch were to fall today, the Karat Faction would inevitably weaken, perhaps even fracture, and Emery would lose a pillar of support he could not hope to replace anytime soon.

Rosin’s preparations were meticulous.

The Supreme had arrived laden with treasures. More than a dozen Tier 7 artifacts were layered around him. Black-gold armor covered his shoulders and chest, every plate engraved with dense defensive formations. Protective talismans had been stitched directly into the lining of his robes, while rings adorned nearly every finger, each resonating with a different law of protection. Around his neck hung a crystalline pendant that shimmered faintly, folded space rippling within its translucent core.

Each artifact represented a fortune.

Each had been prepared for a single purpose.

To buy him one more breath against the heavens.

At the four corners of the arena, the guardians made their own preparations.

The Three Cosmos experts carefully arranged priceless treasures upon prepared formations before activating the Divine Instrument’s outer arrays. Massive conductive pillars awakened one after another, beams of golden light rising toward the heavens as countless runes spread across the arena floor. The entire mountain seemed to hum beneath Emery’s feet as the ancient artifact fully came to life.

The four guardians were not merely observers.

They had already accepted that they would bleed alongside their patriarch.

Then...

Rosin Karat slowly raised his eyes toward the heavens.

The heavens answered.

The sky darkened.

It was still midday, yet sunlight rapidly vanished as clouds condensed directly above the golden mountain. They did not drift in from the horizon like an ordinary storm. Instead, they seemed to form from nothing, as though the world’s spiritual energy itself had curdled into an ocean of darkness.

The oppressive pressure descended immediately.

Even the reinforced mountain formations groaned beneath its weight.

Beside Emery, Veyarel spoke in a hushed voice.

"It’s begun."