Lin Mao's eyes darted from one pavilion to the next. He noticed robed figures walking gracefully, men and women of varying ages, each exuding a calm and composed aura.
Meanwhile, the man in white kept walking without pause.
Lin Mao rushed to keep up all while glancing at other figures in awe.
"Hey, are these people… cultivators?" His voice rose with excitement. "Are they immortals? Can I become one too? Can I fly on a sword?"
The man did not reply, but Lin Mao could see a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Come on, man. Just give me one clue. Do I get superpowers or not?"
They continued walking through the courtyard. The thrill in Lin Mao's chest grew with every step, and a part of him wondered:
Was this the start of an adventure he had always dreamed of?
As they reached the grand doors of the pavilion, the man in white robes finally stopped walking and turned towards Lin Mao.
"Lin Mao, What happened to you? Why do you act this way? Has the defeat gone to your head?"
Lin Mao tilted his head in confusion.
"Defeat?" he repeated. "What are you talking about?"
The man's expression hardened as he studied Lin Mao more closely.
"Don't play games with me. Did something happen to you?" he asked with a hint of concern filling his voice.
Lin Mao hesitated as he tried recalling something, but there were no memories, not even fragments.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his head with an embarrassed smile.
"Yeah... I hit my head pretty hard. Seems like I lost some memories or something."
"Lost your memories? How convenient," the man repeated.
His gaze remained steady, but Lin Mao could hear the suspicion and mocking tone laced in his voice.
Lin Mao raised both hands.
"Hey, I am just as confused as you are. Trust me, if I knew what was going on, I wouldn't be standing here like a lost puppy."
The man in white sighed. He gave Lin Mao one suspicious look before opening the doors to the pavilion.
"Come with me. The master will decide what to do with you. Whether your memory loss is real... or just another one of your excuses."
The doors creaked open, revealing a massive interior that seemed to stretch forever.
"Master? Great... more questions and no answers."
As Lin Mao entered, his eyes immediately widened in astonishment. The interior of the pavilion was exactly like the grand halls from the historical Chinese dramas that he had binge-watched back on Earth.
Everything was crafted from polished wood, giving off a simple and peaceful atmosphere. Delicate yet detailed carvings of dragons and phoenixes were adorned on the walls and pillars.
Lin Mao felt an odd sense of calm as they began climbing the wooden stairs.
They climbed one floor, then another, and another.
By the fourth floor, Lin Mao's breathing was heavy, and his legs were nearly about to give up. He finally fell onto the stairs, gasping for air.
"Oi... where are we going? Are we heading to heaven or something? How can stairs be this long?!" he shouted, glaring at the man ahead.
The man stopped and looked back. He crossed his arms, his long sleeves swaying slightly.
"A scholar with no patience," he said with a scoff, "is like a life with no ambition—completely useless."
Lin Mao rolled his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.
"Yeah, yeah, keep your philosophical insights to yourself, Confucius Jr. Some of us weren't built for a fucking marathon."
The man sighed. "If you cannot even endure this small effort, how do you plan to face the Master? Or regain what you have lost?"
His words quickly caught Lin Mao's attention, and he leaned forward.
"Regain what I have lost," he repeated. "You are not just talking about my memories, are you?"
The man gave a faint smile. "That's for the Master to decide."
With that, he resumed climbing, leaving Lin Mao mumbling curses as he forced himself back onto his feet.
"Great. More riddles and less oxygen. This place better have a good canteen at the top."
On the seventh floor, they finally reached the top.
Lin Mao was walking on his four, panting like a dog on a summer's day.
"I'm dying. I'm actually dying."
The man beside him remained composed, with not even a bead of sweat on his face. He gestured for Lin Mao to follow as they moved through the hallways.
They stopped in front of a sliding door. Its surface appeared delicate as paper and was lined with golden patterns depicting flowing clouds.
The man bowed his head slightly. "Master, Lin Mao has arrived."
There was a long silence.
Then, a deep voice replied, "Enter."