Mystic Bamboo Grove, Crimson Lotus Empire, Flowing Jade City.
Hundreds of teenagers filled the city's central plaza, a sprawling space paved with smooth jade.
They were here for the annual Path of Ascension Trial, a gateway to the Seven Stars Pavilion, one of the five major cultivation sects.
Amidst the excited chatter, one boy stood out, his eyes wide with a stark, unsettling terror that contrasted sharply with the nervous energy of the crowd.
⟨What the hell? I should be dead. How did I get here?⟩
This was the body of a thirteen-year-old, but the mind within belonged to ■■■■■ ■■■■■■, a thirty-three-year-old computer vision engineer from Switzerland.
His last memory was walking home from work. A blackout, the screech of tires, then a blinding pain...
⟨A dream? Some elaborate hallucination?⟩ He desperately searched for a rational explanation.
⟨It feels too real, though. The texture of the air, the distant sounds, even the faint smell of lotus…⟩
He pinched his arm, hard. Pain shot through him. He still had his doubts.
He inhaled deeply, a controlled, measured breath, then subtly, drove his fist into his own stomach. His eyes watered, his stomach clenched. He resisted the urge to vomit.
No... this was real, visceral pain...
⟨This is impossible. Utterly, absolutely impossible, yet here I am...⟩
Two sets of memories collided in his mind: his life as ■■■■■ ■■■■■■ and the memories of this… Ye Jinghun.
Xianxia novels had never held his interest back on Earth. Cultivation was a completely foreign concept.
⟨Qi Condensation, Foundation Establishment, Core Formation…⟩ he went through the cultivation stages according to Ye Jinghun's memories.
⟨Nascent Soul, Soul Formation, Void Amalgamation, Body Integration... Immortal Ascension, allowing one to live as long as the heavens. Absurd. Poetic nonsense to dress up simple concepts.⟩
Yet, despite his skepticism, a flicker of something—intrigue, perhaps?—sparked within him.
Immortality.
Back on Earth, that was his ultimate goal. He believed that death was simply another problem to be solved, another obstacle for humanity to overcome.
A melodious voice cut through his internal analysis.
⌈Brother Jing, are you alright? Why the sudden stomach punch? Nerves getting to you? Hehe, I could give you a shoulder rub if you'd like.⌉
He turned towards the speaker, a fourteen-year-old girl with braided hair and a charming face.
⟨This body's previous owner was apparently infatuated.⟩
Of course, a thirty-three-year-old European man wouldn't feel any romantic pull towards a fourteen-year-old girl, especially one with yellow skin.
Frankly, it was only women with pale skin that captured his attention.
⌈I am fine, Sister Lian. No need to trouble yourself.⌉ He replied, his tone carefully neutral, masking his true intent.
⌈Look at you, trying to act all tough! Brother Jing, to be honest, I am also nervous.⌉ Bai Lianhua confessed, her cheerful demeanor momentarily faltering.
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. ⌈Last night, I slept with a lock of my hair tied around a bone, under the full moon. I offered it whispers to the Silent Mother, in exchange for her favor.⌉
⌈I heard the stones hum, just a little! They will guide us to the Pavilion, Brother. I know it!⌉
Ye Jinghun's mind sharpened, the mention of the Silent Mother igniting a spark of curiosity.
He remembered the scattered details from Ye Jinghun's memories, the folklore surrounding this entity.
A few years ago, a local shaman had accurately predicted a devastating two-year drought that struck Flowing Jade City.
No weather satellites, no advanced climate models, just... a prediction.
On Earth, he wouldn't even attempt such a feat without the right tools.
⌈Brother Jing, look! I think the cultivators from the Seven Stars Pavilion are here!⌉ Bai Lianhua exclaimed, her finger pointing skyward.
Five figures descended gracefully, three men and two women, each adorned in flowing gray robes, riding what appeared to be levitating swords.
They exuded an air of effortless power and elegance, an image far removed from anything he'd witnessed before.
To Ye Jinghun, it was a sight both magnificent and unnerving, a blatant violation of all the natural laws he understood.
⟨Interesting... Are they flying through some advanced manipulation of qi or because of the sword artifact?⟩ Ye Jinghun mused, his mind already dissecting the phenomenon.
⌈The inner disciples of the Seven Stars Pavilion! They're so powerful!⌉ A boy, no older than fifteen, stammered, his voice trembling with a mixture of awe and fear.
⌈To think I have a chance to be like them, that I may also ride a sword! Amazing!⌉ Another boy replied, his eyes full of dreams.
Every eye in the plaza was drawn to the five figures who descended from the sky.
One of the women, her smile radiant as dawn, addressed the crowd.
Her eyes, a warm shade of honey brown, held a captivating spark. Her features were delicate, framed by dark hair pulled back into an elegant bun, and her skin possessed a porcelain smoothness. Her robes flowed around her, giving her an ethereal air.
⌈Greetings, everyone! My name is Shen Yanyu. I am an inner disciple of the Seven Stars Pavilion, and I'll be guiding you through your initial assessment today.⌉ Her voice was clear and melodious, carrying easily across the plaza.
With a flourish, she raised a small, intricately carved bell. A soft, melodic chime echoed through the plaza.
As the sound resonated, a shimmering pathway materialized in the air above the plaza extending for several hundred yards.
The path itself was a mosaic of colored tiles: some a deep, vibrant red, others a stark, inky black, while yet others were a muted gray or a pure, luminous white.
⌈The rules of the Path of Ascension Trial are simple enough,⌉ Shen Yanyu's voice echoed across the plaza.
⌈You must cross at least one hundred and fifty tiles within the time it takes an incense stick to burn. That's your baseline for joining the Pavilion.⌉
She paused, her gaze sweeping over the eager faces below. ⌈Naturally, the further you go, the better. Those who traverse a significant number of tiles might even have a chance to bypass the outer sect and enter the inner sect directly.⌉
A feat she inwardly doubted anyone present would achieve, but no need to shatter their hopes just yet.
A slight, almost teasing smile played on her lips. ⌈Alright, you may begin! Give it your all, and may you find success in joining the Pavilion.⌉
As she spoke, a colossal hourglass materialized in the air beside her, its sands already beginning to flow.
⌈Brother Jing, let's go! Let's do our best!⌉ Bai Lianhua urged, her voice brimming with a mix of excitement and nervous energy.
The teenagers surged forward, a wave of youthful determination rushing onto the shimmering path.
⌈Move it, scum! Don't you know who I am? My father's a fifth-grade official!⌉ A burly fourteen-year-old shoved his way through the crowd, his voice dripping with entitlement.
⌈Tch... Look at these peasants, scrambling like rats when most of them probably won't even pass. How many made it in Flowing Creek City? Sixty out of a thousand, if even that?⌉ Wei Baolong, one of the inner disciples, a young man with sharp, handsome features and a lean build, muttered under his breath.
The other four disciples didn't react to his harsh words, their expressions betraying a similar sentiment.
They were Foundation Establishment cultivators, a realm apart from these mortals. The gap was as vast as the gap between heaven and earth.
⌈Now, now, Junior Brother Wei, you shouldn't be so quick to judge. Who knows, someone from that crowd might become your junior… or perhaps even surpass you someday,⌉ Shen Yanyu chided playfully, her eyes twinkling.
⌈Besides, they're just kids, most of them. Give them a break.⌉
Wei Baolong merely scoffed, his silence speaking volumes.
Surpass him?
He possessed True Spiritual Roots of two elements, a talent considered practically invincible.
Only someone with Heavenly Spiritual Roots could even dream of overtaking him, and the chances of that were slimmer than a thread of silk.
Meanwhile, Ye Jinghun cautiously stepped onto the path, his gaze fixed on the colored tiles before him.
He placed his foot on a red tile.
Instantly, a wave of agony crashed over him, his insides twisting, a sickening nausea rising in his throat.
⟨Can't... breathe!⟩ The thought clawed at his mind as he struggled to remain standing, his legs trembling violently.
Then, just as suddenly, the crushing pressure vanished.
⟨Huh... So the suppression only lasts for about ten seconds. Is it consistent across all tiles?⟩ He wondered.
He glanced around, observing the other youths.
One was on a gray tile, his body convulsing, a sharp, piercing whine ringing in his ears, his body spasming as if electrocuted.
Ye Jinghun shuddered. This was proving to be more challenging than he initially anticipated.
His gaze fell on the arrogant youth who had boasted of his father's position.
He was on a red tile as well, but while he was clearly affected, his struggle was far less pronounced than Ye Jinghun's.
Determined, Ye Jinghun moved to a black tile.
A primal fear surged through him, an overwhelming urge to flee, like the sickening lurch of falling in a dream.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay put.
⟨Each tile seems to be a different test. Red for physique, black for willpower, or perhaps more accurately, the ability to overcome fear.⟩ He concluded, stepping onto a gray tile, bracing for the anticipated pain.
Nothing.
No wave of pain, no mental assault, nothing at all.
⟨Huh? What does this one test then?⟩ He was baffled, unable to discern any effect.
He surveyed the tiles ahead: one gray and two white.
Retracing his steps to the black tile was out of the question.
Curiosity winning over, he stepped onto a white tile.
A subtle wave of fatigue washed over him, so faint he almost missed it.
This was perplexing.
⟨I need to avoid the red tiles. My physique is too weak.⟩ He concluded.
His current body was frail, almost painfully thin.
An average thirteen-year-old's physique, nothing more.
Time passed on.
The initial crowd of eight hundred or so teenagers had dwindled to a mere three hundred, scattered along the path.
Exhaustion was etched on every face, including Ye Jinghun's.
He'd been forced to step on two red tiles, and the experience had nearly brought him to his knees.
He discovered that with each tile of a type he had previously traversed, the suppression intensified.
Yet, the gray tiles remained an enigma.
He felt no suppression from them, no matter how many times he stepped on one.
Ironically, they seemed to be the most effective in causing people to faint.
⟨What is the secret of these gray tiles?⟩ He mused, stepping onto another, his curiosity piqued.
He had crossed two hundred and thirty-one tiles so far.
A glance at the hourglass revealed that only half the time had elapsed.
A daring thought sparked in his mind. ⟨What if I aimed for direct entry into the inner sect? But how many tiles is that? I need to ask.⟩
He looked up at the five floating disciples and called out, ⌈Miss Shen, how many tiles must one cross to enter the inner sect directly?⌉
Shen Yanyu was taken aback.
It was unusual for someone to ask questions during the trial.
Every second was precious.
The other disciples also turned their attention to the frail-looking Ye Jinghun, their eyes widening slightly in surprise.
⌈Four hundred, little brother. Four hundred tiles for direct entry,⌉ Shen Yanyu replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.
⟨His qi is already so dense, and not even half the time has passed!⟩ She thought, impressed.
⌈He might actually have a chance to enter the inner sect. What do you think, Junior Brother Wei?⌉ She teased, turning to her companion.
⌈Hmph! Thick qi doesn't mean much. He's barely at two hundred forty tiles. The suppression intensifies significantly after three hundred fifty.⌉ Wei Baolong scoffed, dismissively.
⌈And it looks like he's been favoring those gray tiles. His brain might just explode if he keeps that up past the three hundred fifty mark!⌉ He added with a hint of malice.
It would require the soul cultivation of a fourth-stage Qi Condensation cultivator to withstand that level of pressure.
An impossibility for someone like him.
⌈Such arrogance!⌉ Mo Chengyun, another inner disciple, interjected sharply.
⌈How many have ever entered the inner sect directly? It usually requires someone with Heavenly Spiritual Roots!⌉ He pointed out.
Heavenly Spiritual Roots were so rare that a few generations of Flowing Jade City might not produce a single one.
⌈And... I suspect he might be using some sort of artifact to protect his soul,⌉ Mo Chengyun added, his voice laced with suspicion.
Wei Baolong's eyes lit up. ⌈Now that you mention it, Senior Brother Mo, I think so too!⌉
⌈How else could a mere mortal with no cultivation effortlessly traverse gray tiles?⌉
⌈Hmph! If there are doubts, we'll consult the elders. Cheating will be met with immediate execution,⌉ Shen Yanyu declared, her voice suddenly cold and hard.