**"The monsters in the Weeping Abyss may not be the strongest among ordinary secret realms, but the terrain and environment within are undoubtedly the most perilous.
Geographers who have mapped its layout describe it as a labyrinth of sheer cliffs, cascading waterfalls that carve through solid rock, and underground rivers that can sweep even the strongest practitioners away in an instant. The air itself carries a faint, corrosive mist that slowly eats away at unprotected equipment and dulls one's spiritual senses over time.
Can you imagine battling agile, bizarre creatures amid jagged mountains, deep ravines, and raging rivers that stretch endlessly? The daunting landscape – where a misstep while climbing could lead to a fatal fall, or a loose stone could trigger a rockslide that buries everything in its path – poses mortal danger to students who have only just awakened their extraordinary powers. Many who enter are not killed by monsters, but by the unforgiving land itself.
This is why the Weeping Abyss has been the deadliest venue for Suzhou and Hangzhou's martial arts college entrance exams for over thirty years. High school students who enter this secret realm gain an experience they will never forget – though one wrong move could cost them their life. The walls of the exam administration building still display the names of seventy-three students who have perished here since the realm was first used as an assessment site.
While this may sound like a grim joke, there is no denying its truth. Even the most talented newcomers must respect the abyss's wrath, or pay the ultimate price.
Bai Hao, who had researched past martial arts exam locations in the region and memorized their danger ratings, frowned deeply when he saw his assignment flash across the electronic bulletin board. The words "Weeping Abyss – Mortality Rate: 57%" seemed to burn into his retinas.
"Am I really that unlucky?" he muttered under his breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his worn jacket.
The trial only required surviving for two days and two nights, with additional points awarded for defeating monsters or collecting rare resources. But such a basic "survival only" outcome was far from acceptable to him. A passing grade in the martial arts exam would let him transfer directly from the vocational track he'd been placed in to a full bachelor's program at a decent university, giving him a crucial head start in mastering his abilities. He had worked too hard over the past month to let chance rob him of this opportunity – especially when his Chaos Talent and unique ability to draw power from his contracted partners promised a future far beyond what most could imagine. Why waste years as a mere attendant or assistant to another spirit master when he could forge his own path?
...
Bai Hao let out a sharp snort, his breath forming a small white cloud in the cool morning air. Despite his frustration and the knot of anxiety in his stomach, he had no choice but to accept the result. The allocation of secret realms was overseen by the National Psionic Examination Board, with safeguards in place to ensure complete randomness. Every candidate's assignment was generated by a quantum computer that could not be hacked or manipulated – when fate dealt you a hand, you had to play it to the best of your ability.
The next day, Bai Hao arrived at the entrance to the Weeping Abyss just as the sun began to peek over the horizon, an hour earlier than the required time. The site was located in a remote valley forty kilometers from the city, surrounded by tall watchtowers and reinforced barriers manned by armed guards. Dozens of other candidates milled about nervously, some huddled in groups while others stood alone, their faces pale with apprehension.
At seven in the morning sharp, the supervisor in charge of the exam appeared from a fortified command post. He was a middle-aged man with gray streaks in his black hair and a scar that cut across his left eyebrow – clear signs of someone who had faced danger firsthand. His steps were heavy as he approached the gathered candidates, and the weight of his presence silenced the murmurs that had filled the air.
His gaze swept slowly over the nervous young faces, lingering on each one for a moment before moving on. His expression shifted from initial sternness to something softer – finally settling into a barely audible sigh that only those closest to him could hear.
Half… he thought, recalling last year's numbers. We'll be lucky if half of them come back.
Among all documented and conquered ordinary secret realms nationwide – more than thirty thousand in total – the Weeping Abyss ranks firmly among the top ten most dangerous. Its unique combination of treacherous terrain, aggressive creatures, and environmental hazards makes it a nightmare even for experienced practitioners. Each year, more than half of the passionate, talented youths who enter fail to emerge, either killed in combat, lost to the labyrinthine passages, or swept away by the realm's deadly waters.
Numerous appeals have been filed with Suzhou and Hangzhou's education authorities over the years, demanding that this realm be removed from the college entrance exam roster and reserved for advanced training only. Petitions have been signed, protests held, and even families of deceased students have spoken out. But for unknown reasons – some whisper it's due to pressure from military leaders who want to identify truly resilient recruits – no changes have ever been made. Proctors like him can only watch helplessly as promising young students head into peril.
"Ugh—!"
A sudden, harsh retching sound shattered the tense silence that had fallen over the crowd. A young woman with long black hair, dressed in a neat school uniform, crouched on the gravel path, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Her face was as pale as paper, beads of cold sweat rolling down her forehead – fear of the Weeping Abyss had completely overwhelmed her will to continue.
Panic spread like oil on water, rippling through the group in an instant: "No… I won't go! I don't want to die!"
A boy with glasses and a thin build collapsed to the ground, his legs giving out beneath him as tears streamed down his face. "I'm only a Yellow-rank warrior! I can barely summon a shield, let alone fight monsters! I'll just be cannon fodder! I quit!"
Another student – a girl with a fierce expression that now twisted into terror – shrieked at the top of her lungs, tearing off her exam badge and throwing it to the ground before turning and running away as fast as her legs could carry her. Guards at the perimeter stepped aside to let her pass, their faces impassive but their eyes filled with sympathy.
...
Within minutes, nearly one-fifth of the fifty-six candidates assigned to the Weeping Abyss had chosen to surrender, either by leaving the site or handing their badges to the supervisors. The man in charge sighed softly – this was to be expected. This realm, with its high elimination and mortality rates, always saw the highest number of withdrawals each year. In its early years, more than half of those selected had backed out before even setting foot inside.
He did not scold the deserters or try to convince them to stay. Instead, he ordered his assistants to record their names and process their withdrawal paperwork quickly and quietly. Only deep sadness showed in his eyes as he watched them leave – he knew that while some would regret their decision later, many had likely saved their own lives. Looking at the remaining forty-five students – especially those with set jaws, clenched fists, and determined gazes – he silently prayed they would understand the truth he had learned through years of experience: survival itself is victory.
This is the first lesson all extraordinary beings must learn, though few truly grasp it until it's too late. Conquering secret realms, slaying alien monsters, and collecting rare treasures is not the priority for most practitioners. Living to see another day, to grow stronger with each passing year, and to protect those you care about – that is what ordinary extraordinary individuals pursue throughout their lives. Truth be told, students with talent below Earth-rank have very limited development prospects after entering a psionic university. Most will spend their careers as low-level support staff or reserve fighters. Entering society early might not bring wealth or power, but it would spare them from unnecessary peril and allow them to build stable lives in fields where their abilities could still make a difference.
Still, his position as an exam supervisor forbade him from discouraging their ambitions or revealing too much of the harsh reality that awaited them. It was not his place to choose their path – only to ensure the exam was conducted fairly.
"I hereby declare the martial arts exam open!" he called out, his voice carrying clearly across the valley despite the slight tremor in his throat.
Without delay, he stepped onto a circular platform at the center of the gathering area and pressed his palm against a glowing crystal embedded in the stone. The ground trembled slightly beneath their feet, and a low hum filled the air as the barrier array activated. With a sound like thunder splitting the earth, a vast, dark chasm – one that seemed capable of swallowing all light – tore open before the crowd, revealing swirling purple mist and the faint sound of rushing water from within.
"Those who do not enter the secret realm within ten minutes will be deemed to have failed the exam and will receive a score of zero," he announced, his voice now calm but carrying unshakable authority. "Once inside, your exam badges will track your vital signs and location. If you wish to surrender at any time, press the red button on the back of your badge and you will be teleported out immediately. Remember – there is no shame in choosing to live."
Bai Hao's eyes narrowed, a spark of excitement burning in their depths despite the gravity of the moment. The thought of entering a place with such a fearsome reputation sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through his veins – a feeling he had come to crave since awakening his powers.
"Come – let me see what secrets this Weeping Abyss holds," he murmured to himself, rolling his shoulders to loosen up.
Around him, many candidates began moving toward the chasm in pairs or small groups – spirit masters and their contracted partners, bound by spiritual pacts that linked their powers and fates. The exam allowed such collaborations, with scores split equally between partners, and most students had spent months finding and training with their chosen partners to maximize their chances of success. However, Bai Hao's own contracted partners – Yun Meng, the ice-element prodigy, and Mu Wanqiu, the healing master – were both Saint-rank Spirit Masters who had earned direct admission to top-tier universities like Tsinghua and Peking. They were exempt from taking the martial arts exam entirely, having already proven their strength in national competitions. Moreover, Bai Hao's unique Chaos Talent and the hidden secrets of his abilities made him reluctant to seek help from strangers. He had always worked best alone, and he would face the abyss on his own terms.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he stepped toward the dark opening of the chasm.
"Wait – hold on a moment!" the supervisor called out suddenly, striding over to him with quick steps. "Where is your contract partner, young man? I don't see anyone with you."
"I don't need one!" Bai Hao did not turn back, his voice clear and firm as he continued walking forward. He had made his decision days ago, and nothing would change his mind now. Before entering, he pulled out a pre-prepared steel dagger from his pocket – its blade reinforced with spiritual energy he had infused into it the night before – and held it ready in his left hand, then stepped into the swirling purple darkness without hesitation.
The supervisor stared after him, his brow furrowing deeper with concern. After a moment, he shook his head and muttered softly to himself, "Brave kid, but going alone… his chances are slim at best."
He had seen this before. Each year, a small number of students choose to take the exam without a partner, believing their individual strength is enough to carry them through. Yet few – if any – dare to enter a place as dangerous as the Weeping Abyss alone. Those who do almost always perish within the first twenty-four hours, overwhelmed by the constant threats and unable to rest or tend to their wounds. The dangers here are far more complex than most realize; even seasoned practitioners with decades of experience risk death every time they enter, let alone inexperienced newcomers who have only just awakened their powers and barely mastered the basics of controlling their energy.
Upon entering the Weeping Abyss, a wave of bone-chilling cold and heavy humidity assaulted Bai Hao's senses, making him gasp involuntarily. The air was thick enough to taste – metallic and bitter, with a hint of decay. Before his vision could adjust to the dim light, he felt the uneven ground beneath his feet and realized he was standing on a narrow rock ledge no wider than two palms, its edges crumbling away into nothingness at the slightest touch.
Thick white fog surrounded him on all sides, so dense he could barely see his own hand when he held it up in front of his face. Below the ledge lay a desolate, bottomless gulf that seemed to stretch on forever, the darkness so deep it felt like staring into the void itself. A cutting wind lashed at his face like invisible knives, its howl drowning out all other sound and making it impossible to tell which direction it was coming from. The sky above – if there even was one – was completely shrouded in layers of gray clouds and mist, making it impossible to gauge his surroundings or find any sense of direction. But one thing was clear: he was not in lowlands. The fog stretched endlessly below his position, and the wind carried the sharp, thin bite of high altitude that made his lungs burn slightly with each breath.
He did not move recklessly, knowing that one wrong step would send him plummeting into the abyss. Instead, he carefully wedged his pre-prepared dagger into a narrow crevice in the stone wall beside him, using it as an anchor to steady his body while he assessed his situation. His initial plan had been to summon heavy protective gear – a set of reinforced armor he had practiced projecting countless times – but fighting on such treacherous cliffs meant abandoning that idea entirely. While armor would boost his defense against monster attacks, it would also make his movements clumsy and slow, increasing the risk of a fatal fall.
Better to be fast and vulnerable than slow and protected, he thought, closing his eyes to focus his spiritual energy.
In the blink of an eye, a slender cyan longsword materialized in his right hand, its surface gleaming with sharp light that cut through the fog like a beacon. The cool metal of the hilt against his palm helped steady his racing heart and clear his mind – but danger struck before he could fully prepare himself or formulate a plan to move to safer ground.
The fog ahead of him suddenly parted as if swept away by an invisible hand, and a massive black shadow shot forward like an arrow released from a taut bow. It trailed a gust of coppery, blood-scented wind that made his skin prickle with warning, and moved with such speed that it let out a terrifying whistle as it cut through the air. Had the cliff face not blocked its straight path to where he stood, Bai Hao knew he would have had no time to react at all.
Almost too late!
"Hmph!" Bai Hao growled low in his throat, every muscle in his body tensing as instinct took over. His left hand shot out faster than the eye could follow, snatching a thick bundle of damp, withered vines from a hidden crevice in the rock wall beside him. As his body spun sideways with the momentum of his movement, the projected cyan sword in his right hand slashed through the air with a sharp hiss, its blade glowing brighter as he poured more spiritual energy into it to meet the oncoming threat head-on!
"Hisss!"
The sword – sharp enough to cut through solid iron like butter – tore through the creature's rock-hard hide with surprising ease, slicing deep into its flesh. With a shrill, ear-piercing scream of pain that echoed off the cliff walls, a deep, bone-exposing gash nearly a foot long opened across its broad chest, dark green blood gushing out to splatter against the stone. But the creature's impact was so powerful that even the reinforced projected blade could not withstand it – with a loud crack, the sword shattered into hundreds of tiny glowing fragments that sparkled like stars before fading into the mist.
In the dim, shifting light of the abyss, Bai Hao finally got a clear look at his attacker: a hulking mountain ape standing nearly seven feet tall, with gray-brown skin as tough as granite, bulging muscles that rippled beneath its hide, and jagged yellow fangs that jutted out from its jaws like broken knives. Its red eyes – filled with a mix of pain, rage, and savage hunger – fixed on the boy hanging from the edge of the cliff by one hand, its massive claws flexing as it prepared to pounce again.
"Mountain ape…" Bai Hao whispered, his grip on the vines tightening until his knuckles turned white. He recognized the creature from his research – the Ironclad Mountain Ape, known as the king of the Weeping Abyss. These beasts were perfectly adapted to the realm's harsh terrain, able to move across sheer cliffs and leap over wide chasms as if walking on flat ground. They hunted in packs and were known to be particularly aggressive toward humans, viewing them as both intruders and prey. For any ordinary student facing such a sudden assault with no backup, death would have been instantaneous.
As the wounded ape let out another roar and began scrambling toward him along a narrow ledge just a few feet away, Bai Hao felt his nerves snap taut as a bowstring. He had trained for moments like this, but nothing could truly prepare him for the reality of facing death in such a precarious position.
It seemed the real test had arrived far sooner than expected – and he would have to fight with everything he had just to survive the first few minutes inside the abyss.