The air in the Outer Court didn't just vibrate; it felt as if it were turning into solid iron. Xiao Yan's boots were sinking into the dirt, and his vision was swimming in a sea of red and grey. Around him, the "talents" were still standing easy, their Divine Realm auras glowing like soft lamps.
To them, this was a breeze. To Xiao Yan, it was an execution.
BONG.
The eighth ring.
It wasn't a sound anymore. It was a physical wall. The pressure slammed into Xiao Yan's chest, snapping another rib with a sickening pop. He hit one knee, the stone tiles beneath him spider-webbing from the impact.
"Look at him," a disciple nearby laughed, barely affected by the sound. "He's literally falling apart. Why do these mortals even try?"
(Michael... I can't... the pressure is too much,) Xiao Yan thought, blood leaking from his nose.
[Master, don't you dare touch the Dragon's power. The Elders are watching. If you leak blue lightning now, you're a dead man walking. Use the Temple foundation! Become the stone!]
Xiao Yan gritted his teeth, his jaw aching. He didn't reach for the Dragon. Instead, he reached deep into his own marrow—the Bone and Law foundation he'd ground out in the Secret Temple. He stopped trying to push back against the sound. He opened his meridians and let the sound flow into him.
His skin turned a dull, metallic grey. The red sparks of his Trinity Path stopped flickering and started to hum. He wasn't a man anymore; he was a lightning rod.
The ninth ring hit.
BOOOOOM.
The sound pulverized the air. Every External disciple who was still standing collapsed instantly, their ears bleeding. Even some of the weaker kids from the Divine Realm stumbled. But Xiao Yan?
He stood up.
Slowly. Painfully. His bones were screaming, and his lungs were on fire, but he stood. He didn't use a shield. He just took the hit and stayed there, his eyes fixed on the bronze bell. The shockwave rolled over him, and for a split second, the heavy aura around him was so dense it actually made the sound ripple backward.
Up on the platform, an Elder's eyes narrowed. "A Mortal Realm boy... survived the ninth ring without a Divine shield? Interesting."
The High Balcony
In the cold silence of the Immortal Hall, Yan Bingxue was interrupted by a soft shimmer of light. A messenger bird, carved from ice, landed on her shoulder and shattered into a whisper.
"The Variable has survived the first trial," the voice echoed in her mind. "But he is struggling. He is ranked at the very bottom of the External group. He is covered in blood and filth, my Lady."
Bingxue didn't move, her gaze fixed on the mountain peaks. "He chooses the hard way. He always does."
She didn't know that behind her, in the shadows of the Hall, a group of dark figures was already moving.
"The girl has the Extreme Yin Formation," a voice hissed from the darkness. "The seal on the mountain is weak. If we take her now, the Academy won't be able to stop the Lord's ascension. Find a gap in the Immortal Hall's guard. We move when the trials reach their peak."
The Arrival of the Butterfly
As the first trial ended, the survivors were led toward the Inner Gates for registration. Xiao Yan was limping, his clothes shredded, looking like he'd been dragged behind a horse.
"Move it, trash," a guard barked, shoving him toward the side path.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over the courtyard. Everyone looked up.
A girl was descending from the floating platforms of the Eternal Hall. She didn't walk; she drifted on a pair of translucent, iridescent wings that looked like they were made of light and silk—Papillon Wings. Her long hair was the color of fresh snow, and she carried a staff that pulsed with a gentle, cooling blue light.
"It's Ling Xuelian," someone whispered in awe. "The prodigy of the Ling family! She's already a top-tier Internal disciple!"
Xuelian landed softly near the registration desk. She didn't look at the Divine geniuses preening for her attention. Instead, her eyes drifted toward the line of battered External applicants.
She saw Xiao Yan.
She saw the way his blood was steaming, the way his "Heavy" aura was still settling into his broken bones. Most people saw a loser. She, with her Ice Dragon bloodline, saw a flickering flame in a storm.
She raised her staff, and a soft mist of healing frost drifted toward the line. As it hit Xiao Yan's skin, the burning pain in his ribs dulled to a dull throb.
Xiao Yan looked up, catching her gaze.
"You're late for registration," she said, her voice surprisingly gentle, like the sound of a frozen stream. "You are now officially an inner disciple but you will start from the lowest gate."
The rules were that everyone who enter ask inner disciple has to go from the 32nd gate to the 1st gate before getting into the Eternal hall and to climb the Gates a lot of challenges are mandatory to pass.
Xuelian looked with her abgelique eyes , she turned and flew back toward the heights, her wings leaving a trail of shimmering dust.
Xiao Yan watched her go, leaning on his sword. "Great," he muttered, wiping blood from his chin. "Another one who thinks I'm a charity project. Michael, how many more of these 'geniuses' do I have to meet?"
[At least thirty-two Gates worth, Master. Better get used to the view from the bottom.]
Xiao Yan looked at the 32nd inner gate entrance
"Let's register first " whispered Xiao Yan
His eyes hardened. The climb had officially started.
To be continued!!!