The Training Hall of the Royal Academy—more forest than hall, its vast clearing encircled by towering trees, the air rich with the scent of earth and leaves—was thick with students. Yet the usual hum of chatter had fallen silent. Elder Yi’s revelation hung over them like thunder.

  Earth-grade lightning qi alone was already a treasure beyond imagining. But Sky-grade? To seize it meant forging a Sky-grade foundation—an achievement so rare that even emperor would be forced to take notice.

  With such a start, one’s future blazed—ruling supreme in Foundation Establishment, unless fate or death cut the path short.

  Elder Yi’s shoulders eased when he saw that the students had, however reluctantly, accepted the loss of five slots. At least the outrage had subsided.

  “Some of you may not yet understand how this test will proceed,” he said, voice carrying across the crowd. “Then listen carefully. Once ten students’ step onto the stage, the array will activate. It will project a simulation into your minds. Your performance within will be recorded. You cannot die in the simulation, but every wound, every burn, every shattering bone—you will feel it. And that pain will follow you even after you wake. Do not take it lightly.”

  His gaze swept the sea of faces. Then, with a sharp wave of his sleeve, he barked, “Now—enter.”

  The field erupted into motion. Students surged toward the platforms. At each one, an instructor oversaw the process, ensuring order. Only ten were allowed onto a stage at once.

  They sat cross-legged in a ring. The orb flared, runes igniting into an azure dome that sealed the platform, hiding all within.

  Xiao Lei did not rush to join them. He lingered, eyes narrowed, waiting to see the trial unfold. Yet once the barrier formed, no hint of what lay inside could be seen.

  Minutes crawled past. Then the light dimmed and the first contestant staggered out. He was young—likely a newcomer, no higher than the fifth stage of Qi Awakening. His complexion was ghost-pale, his body trembling with exhaustion.

  One after another fell, faces pale, bodies trembling—swiftly discarded until only the true contenders remained.

  At last, when one of the stages emptied, Xiao Lei rose without hesitation. His feet carried him onto the platform, steady but quick, as if delay itself might rob him of the chance. He lowered himself cross-legged among the circle, spine straight, eyes closing as he drew his breath inward, pressing thought into stillness.

  The orb at the stage’s centre pulsed. A shimmer of blue light unfolded, climbing over their heads like a rising tide until the dome sealed them in. The world quivered—then stilled.

  Xiao Lei opened his eyes to find himself no longer seated, but standing. A hall stretched around him—vast, dimly lit, walls swallowed in shadow. The silence pressed against his ears. Ahead, the air shimmered, faint motes of light gathering until the outlines of weapons coalesced into form. Bows, lances, spears, swords—the array of cold steel gleamed faintly, as if waiting for a hand to claim them.

  He stepped forward brushing a bow pale as bone; a quiver settled across his back as if it had always belonged. His gaze searched the display again, sharper now, until his thought caught on a familiar shape. Claws. A gauntlet, not plain, but with retractable talons just like the weapon he had ordered in the forge.

  A flicker of understanding sharpened within him. This was no dream. The array shaped the battlefield to its challenger’s memory. Not illusions, but reflections of what the cultivator had truly touched and wielded. Nothing imagined without experience could exist here.

  Once his hands closed around the chosen weapons, the rest dissolved, falling back into the shadows like mist.

  Stillness returned. His breath seemed too loud in the empty hall. Then, from the far wall, the air stirred—and with a ripple, a beast formed.

  A spirit wolf, its body gaunt and hungry, fangs bared. Rank one. Its aura told him it was no stronger than a first-stage Mortal Vein. The creature lunged, claws flashing. Xiao Lei met it with a calm step, bowstring drawn. The arrow loosed with a crack, sinking between its eyes. The beast’s body broke apart before it touched the ground.

  A glimmer. One point. The thought surfaced in his mind without sound.

  Two came, then more, the rhythm quickening like a drumbeat—each wave heavier, each fall dissolving into points that pulsed within his mind.

  But then—the pattern shifted. One beast again, this time denser, its presence heavier. Second-stage Mortal Vein. The cycle repeated, rising step by step.

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  Hours seemed to bleed away. Wolves, lions, tigers of light and shadow pressed in upon him. With every tenth slain, the rank surged higher. The hall became a battlefield of endless bodies, his breath harsh against the silence between roars.

  Now five beasts stood before him, their hides marked with the pressure of Qi Awakening. First stage. Their eyes glowed with the same pale hunger as the first one, yet their weight bore down heavier than all the waves before.

  Xiao Lei drew in a breath, steadying. His arrow flew—through one skull, then bursting into the gut of the beast behind. Both fell, their bodies breaking apart into motes of light. He no longer counted the score.

  He no longer counted. What value were numbers, when the only measure that mattered was whether his path outpaced the rest?

  The fifth beast crumbled into light. Xiao Lei’s breath hitched, fatigue pressing heavier—yet already the floor rippled and another wave surged.

  His bowstring thrummed once, an arrow streaking across the hall. Before the body dissolved, he was already closing the gap on another, claws flashing as his gauntlet tore through sinew and bone. The crack of shattering limbs echoed like splintering wood.

  The numbers wore on him more than their strength. Each new tide demanded more focus, more motion, and he felt the faint drain of qi with every strike. A dangerous thought whispered: How long will this last? He pressed it down. Panic wasted strength. Discipline sharpened it.

  So his movements grew leaner. Arrows flew only when certain. His gloves carved arcs that wasted not a breath of force. No flourish, no hesitation. Each step, each strike, was pared down to necessity, the excess trimmed away until his fighting became something spare, efficient, merciless.

  Outside the dome, the air was far lighter—filled not with the clash of battle but with murmurs of waiting students. The third batch had assembled, ten figures ready to step into the test. Yet one youth frowned, gaze fixed on the still-glowing dome that refused to release its participant.

  “Who’s inside? Taking this long?”

  Others followed his gaze. Curiosity sharpened into speculation.

  “Must be someone strong, to last that long.”

  “Or someone too slow, too weak,” another sneered, laughter spilling out across the clearing.

  But laughter frays when silence lingers too long.

  Minute after minute slid by. The chuckles dimmed. Then faded. Then died altogether, replaced by furrowed brows and sidelong glances. Still the dome remained, pale blue light pulsing faintly, refusing to yield its challenger.

  By then, the fourth batch had already claimed their stages. Across the training ground, cycles turned swiftly—domes collapsing as exhausted students were ejected, only for new ones to rise in their place. Yet here and there, a few domes still held, their pale glow unbroken, concealing the stubborn figures who continued to endure.

  Even so, one dome drew the most eyes—unyielding, as though time itself pressed against its surface without leaving a mark.

  Elder Yi’s gaze shifted toward it. His hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable, but in the quiet of his eyes, a trace of expectation gathered. He, too, could see nothing of what transpired within. The array kept its secrets well. But endurance itself spoke loudly enough.

  Those who withstood the trial revealed more than skill—they revealed the marrow of their foundation. A weak base doomed collapse no matter how high one climbed, but a true foundation—firm, unshakable—could bear the weight of greatness. And among foundations, Earth grade was rare, the difference between a servant struggling to defend his sect and a pillar upon which an empire could be built.

  So Elder Yi watched the sealed dome, his gaze steady as stone, waiting for the shadow within to reveal itself.

  Unaware of the whispers swelling beyond the dome, Xiao Lei stood ringed by ten beasts of the fifth stage of Qi Condensation. Their low snarls vibrated through the ground, a sound more felt than heard. Sweat ran in thin rivulets down his temples, catching on the ragged claw-marks that had torn across his shirt.

  A deeper wound marred him. Four gouges carved from chest to abdomen—each breath dragging fire through torn flesh. His stance wavered under the weight of strain, yet his gaze held sharp, unyielding.

  The beasts lunged as one. He bent low, body slipping past a claw’s arc, the air splitting against his cheek. His bow lifted in a blur, string singing. He loosed arrow after arrow, the hiss of flight snapping through the chaos. One beast faltered, another stumbled. A shadow closed in from the flank—too silent, too fast.

  He pivoted. His clawed glove flashed, driving clean through the skull. Bone cracked, hot blood sprayed. He seized the carcass and swung it wide—a grotesque flail that smashed into three more, lifting them off their feet. Their bodies struck the ground in a thud of tangled limbs, only for fresh shafts to pierce their throats before they could rise again.

  Every strike pared to necessity. No flourish, no wasted strike. Hurt them early. Cull the weak. Keep distance from the strong. The longer he survived, the more precise he became— an edge honed by exhaustion, not grace.

  Now only two remained. One circled with its maw open, threads of saliva glistening in the dome’s pale light. The other feinted before rushing headlong, claws slashing in a blur. Xiao Lei caught its motion, stepped in, and with a twist of his grip, snapped its neck. A dry crack split the air.

  But the last beast was already upon him. Its paw raked across his shoulder before he could fully evade. Flesh split, bone jarred. The impact hurled him backward. His body arced, a spray of blood scattering crimson through the air.

  Yet even as his chest convulsed, his arm did not falter. Twisting mid-flight, he raised his bow, breath ragged. The arrow left the string with a sharp twang, faster than thought.

  The shaft buried itself deep in the beast’s throat just as Xiao Lei struck the wall. The collision rattled through his bones, crushing the breath from his lungs.

  For a heartbeat, silence held. Then a thud—final, heavy. The beast collapsed where it stood.

  Both bodies lay motionless.

  Slowly, painfully, Xiao Lei forced himself upright. His clothes were torn to tatters, his frame slick with blood and sweat, but his eyes had not dimmed. They gleamed, unwavering, fixed on the space before him—waiting for whatever would emerge next.

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  Destiny Reckoning. It’s set in the same universe, and you definitely don’t want to miss it, because the stories will eventually crossover.