As Zhou Yuan crossed the threshold into the second room, he felt a sharp change in the air around him. The room seemed to pulse with a heavy aura, its resonance overwhelming his spirit before his body. It bore no resemblance to the first room in any way. The walls were completely bare, as if void of any life or memory. The floor was devoid of patterns, and everything within it was silent in a disconcerting manner.
In the center of the room stood a **solitary statue**, reminiscent of the warrior he had seen in the first room, yet it appeared more majestic and enigmatic. The statue held a massive sword in both hands, the sword plunged into the ground before it. The statue's posture was not ordinary; it seemed to be suffering under an unbearable burden, as if the sword was the only thing keeping it upright.
What caught Zhou Yuan's attention the most were its **eyes**… stone-like, of course, yet they seemed alive, bearing a profound gaze that reflected an indescribable sadness. That gaze was not static; it felt as if it were staring directly into the depths of his soul, digging up his past as if the statue had known him since birth.
**"What is this place?"**
He moved slowly toward the statue. With every step he took, the air grew colder, as if the room itself was punishing him for approaching. His chest began to feel heavy, as if an invisible weight was pressing down on him. Nevertheless, he did not stop.
On the base of the statue, he noticed a **deeply engraved inscription**:
"Whoever cannot face their shadow... will never see the light."
He read the phrase softly, then looked again at the statue. "His shadow? It seems this room is not for testing my physical strength… but for something deeper."
He raised his head steadily and stared directly into the statue's eyes, as if challenging whatever might happen. For a moment, nothing moved. Then, suddenly, he felt a current of cold air envelop him, pulling him as if he were sinking into a bottomless sea.
**"Let's see what you have."**
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he found himself standing in a very familiar place. A **green field** stretching as far as the eye could see, with wooden houses scattered here and there. The wind was caressing the grass, and the atmosphere felt pleasant.
But he was not deceived. This was not reality.
"Spring Blossom Village..." he whispered, his voice filled with tension. His eyes roamed the area, knowing exactly where he was. But he did not want to be here.
He tried to convince himself that this was just an illusion. The wind he felt, the scent of fresh air, the distant laughter of children… they were all too real. More than they should be.
Then, just as he had feared, the atmosphere changed. The laughter disappeared, replaced by distant screams coming from afar.
He turned and found himself staring at **his mother, Liu Hua**. She was running through the fields, carrying his little sister on her back, who was barely a year old. His body stiffened, but he realized he was witnessing a scene from the past.
"No… not this again."
He tried to move, but his feet felt like they were rooted to the ground.
He saw himself as a child standing next to his mother, helpless and afraid. The scene replayed before him as if it were being replayed painfully clear.
The smell of burning wood filled the air. He saw the cottages ablaze, and saw **mercenaries** with tattered banners storming the village with their bloody weapons. The screams of women and children echoed in the air like an endless echo.
He saw his father, **Zhou Ling**, standing at the entrance of their cottage, wielding his spear that shone under the glow of the flames. His father looked at his mother and said firmly:
"Run with them. I'll stop them here."
His eyes were filled with determination, but deep within them was a final farewell.
Zhou Yuan tried to scream, to warn him, but he couldn't. The words stuck in his throat.
**"I know what will happen now... I've seen it before. I'll lose them all."**
As he stood there, he saw his mother fall beneath the blows of the mercenaries, her trembling hand reaching out to him as if trying to touch him one last time. He saw his father's final glance before he faced death with courage.
He was helpless, frozen while the world around him burned.
"Why am I reliving this?"
Suddenly, he felt a current of air whispering in his ear, a voice with no clear source:
"Will you remain trapped in this moment forever? Or will you finally face it?"
Zhou Yuan realized that this was not just torture... it was a test.
He breathed slowly, then spoke aloud:
"Their death was real, but my weakness back then... I will not allow it to control me any longer."
He began to move, step by step, toward the shadows mocking him:
- His childhood friend who betrayed him.
- The disciples who laughed at him in the sect.
- His reflection in the mirror, weak, helpless, broken.
With every ghost, the pain pressed on him, but he did not stop.
"I was weak... but I am not now. I will not allow this pain to define who I am."
As he reached the center of the fog, he saw the statue waiting for him, but this time it was different. It seemed to move, its glowing eyes becoming sharper, as if reflecting his strength.
Zhou Yuan slowly raised his hand and touched the statue.
The moment he did, the fog vanished. The village disappeared.
He returned to the second room, his breaths heavy, sweat dripping from his forehead. The statue before him had now gone completely dark, as if its power had been exhausted.
A wall behind the statue opened, revealing a new passage.
Zhou Yuan stood for a moment, gazing at the passage. Despite his fatigue, his eyes held a new determination.
"If this is the ruins... then I am ready for what is harder."
He stepped into it with firm strides, leaving behind the specter of the past that had haunted him for so long.
As Zhou Yuan stepped into the third room, he paused for a moment, staring at the scene before him. The room was vast, its boundaries fading into a thick white mist that emitted a faint glow.
In the middle of the room, a massive stone staircase extended upward, its steps disappearing into the mist. There were no engravings or symbols on the walls, but the staircase itself was saturated with a strange energy that made the air around it feel heavy.
He advanced with steady steps, observing the stairs with keen eyes. He placed his foot on the first step, and suddenly, a feeling of weight overwhelmed his body
. The gravity had multiplied, and the air became heavy as if trying to crush him in place.
"This feeling…"
He slowly raised his head, his eyes glinting with sharp brilliance:
"This is akin to the Spirit Mountain in the White Mist Blossom Sect. But the gravity here is denser… the pressure is not only physical but targets my soul as well."
He stood on the first step, his body adapting to the new pressure. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused on breathing slowly, utilizing the "Floating Mist Breathing" technique he had learned in the sect.
"If this resembles the Spirit Mountain, then it is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. In the sect, I was limited to seven hours a month. But here, there is no one to stop me. If I can harness this pressure, I will be able to elevate my cultivation to a new level."He smiled lightly and decided to approach the staircase differently."
Every step on the staircase added compounded pressure to his body and soul. By the fifth step, he began to feel a slight pain in his muscles, but that pain was not unfamiliar to him.
He sat down on the fifth step, closing his eyes.
"I will not treat this trial as a race to the top. I will seize every moment and every step to strengthen myself."
He began to meditate, utilizing the immense pressure to activate the chi pathways in his body. He felt the chi flowing slowly, but the pressure helped him open the blocked chi veins.
After a few minutes, he stood up slowly and smiled to himself:
"This is not an obstacle… it is an opportunity."
At the tenth step, the pressure began to double. He felt as if the weight of his body had tripled, and his spirit seemed to be pressed inside a cage.
With every step, he heard faint whispers echoing in his ears:
"You won't reach it. It's impossible."
"You're too weak… stop now."
But he did not stop. He ground his teeth and focused all his energy on resisting the pressure. He told himself softly:
"These voices… are mere illusions. The pressure wants to break me, but I will not allow it."
When Zhou Yuan's foot touched the thirtieth step, everything within him screamed for him to stop.
His knees shook violently, as if they were about to collapse, and his arms were powerless to support him completely. The muscles in his body felt like blocks of melted iron, pulled tight to the point of pain.
"Why do I feel like my bones are being crushed? Is it the pressure? Or has my body reached its limits?"
He raised his head with difficulty, trying to look up, but all he saw was fog. It seemed that the steps were devouring the sky itself.
"How can I move forward if I can hardly breathe here?"
He sat down on the step, gasping as though he had run a vast distance. His breaths were ragged, and his ribs felt as if they were being crushed with every new breath. He tried to raise his hand, but he felt his fingers trembling.
With every moment that passed, the pain in his body worsened. It wasn't ordinary pain; it was a rising sensation that seemed to slowly creep inside him. His leg muscles felt as if they were tearing, and the pain in his back was like being stabbed with sharp knives.
But he recognized this type of pain. It was the pain that shatters the old body to rebuild it stronger.
"This isn't just pain… this pressure is a way to reshape my entire body."
He breathed slowly, trying to calm his body. But the pressure on his chest made every inhale feel like a struggle to draw life from between his lips. Yet, he forced himself to focus.
But the physical pain was not the only issue. There were voices. Faint whispers that sounded as though they came from inside his head:
"Why are you exhausting yourself? You'll achieve nothing. You're weak."
"All this effort… for what? You can't surpass this trial."
He clenched his fists on his knees, his fingers digging into his skin fiercely, and he shut his eyes tightly.
"These voices… they aren't real. This staircase is trying to break me."
Then he remembered his mother's and sister's screams from that fateful day. The pain, the fear, the helplessness. Everything rushed back to encircle him. It seemed as if the staircase was conjuring those emotions he had tried to bury deep.
"Mom... Sister..."
He suddenly raised his head, his eyes shining with renewed determination.
"Stop now? I don't have that choice. If I don't endure this pain, I will be nothing but a new prey for this world."
He sat cross-legged on the step, despite the pain that continued to afflict his body and soul. He closed his eyes and began to activate the "Floating Mist Breathing" technique, inhaling the pure energy surrounding him.
With each breath, he felt the chi slowly flowing within his body, as if it were trying to calm the storm of pressure. The surrounding air was heavy, but with every moment of meditation, his body responded strangely.
"This isn't ordinary pressure. It is reshaping every cell in my body."
He began to feel a gentle warmth spreading in his limbs. The pain hadn't disappeared, but it had started to feel like a faint ripple, like a fire warming his body from within.
Then, suddenly, he felt something strange within him. A chi pathway that had been closed for so long began to pulse. The sensation was akin to stagnant waters moving for the first time in years.
"Is this… chi pathways? Is the pressure opening them?"
He raised his eyebrows in amazement, but he didn't allow himself to get lost in thought. He focused on slowly directing the chi towards the closed pathway, trying to control its flow.
He opened his eyes after what felt like minutes, but which could have been hours. Sweat was pouring down his forehead, and his clothes clung to his body, but he felt something different.
"This… isn't just pain. It's construction. The pressure here is pushing me to my limits to make me stronger."
He slowly stood up, his legs still trembling, but he forced himself to move forward.
"I cannot stop now. If these stairs are going to reshape my body and soul, then I will make every step here change my life."
He began to ascend again; each step felt like a crushing blow to every part of him. But with each step, he felt the chi inside him becoming purer, more responsive to his will.
At the thirty-fifth step, he paused again. He sat cross-legged and returned to meditation.
With every step, Zhou Yuan was pushing the boundaries of his physical and spiritual limits to new levels. The gravity here was not merely a testing tool; it was a harsh teacher, pushing him to exceed his old limits.
"The question isn't: Can I reach the top? The question is: How many steps can I take before this staircase completely reshapes my existence?"
He sat quietly, contemplating the pressure that was no longer his enemy, but had become a tool for his development.