Chương 5: Perilous Ascension, Entry as a Registered Disciple

Dawn broke through the heavy cloud bank, spilling waves of gold and crimson radiance across the jagged peaks of the Xuanxiao Mountain Range. The three-thousand-step Ascension Path spanned the sea of clouds like a slumbering stone dragon. Each tier of ancient bluestone was etched with mottled, archaic array formations that hummed with a suppressed power. From the base to the summit, an invisible, mountainous pressure intensified with every step.

The higher one climbed, the more the gravity condensed, threatening to crush limbs and stagnate the very flow of blood in one's veins. Today marked the final stage of the triennial Immortal Ascension Trial. Twenty-seven youths, having survived the preliminary spiritual root testing, gathered at the foot of the mountain. They stood in tense silence, awaiting the signal to ascend. A heavy bell tolled, its resonance vibrating through the mountains and shaking the mist from the trees.

Twenty-seven figures surged forward simultaneously, beginning their grueling climb toward the Ascension Terrace that sat perched atop the sea of clouds. Reyn blended into the crowd, his pace steady and unhurried. He carried the weight of a blood feud upon his shoulders, a burden forged through a three-thousand-mile desperate flight and the life-and-death tempering of the Bone-Burying Desert.

His physical body had been honed to a state of extreme resilience by those hardships, and his mental fortitude far surpassed that of his peers. He kept his Qi circulation smooth and rhythmic, prioritizing endurance over speed. In a battle of attrition against gravity, he was in his element. For the first five hundred steps, the pressure remained mild. The candidates were scattered across the path; some, bolstered by the resources of wealthy clans and abundant Qi, sprinted upward with arrogance.

Others, possessing shallower foundations, could only grit their teeth and shuffle forward, inching against the weight. Reyn maintained a constant, mechanical velocity. His gaze was calm, his mind turned inward. He kept the Breath-Concealing Art active at all times, suppressing the murderous intent and sharp edge in his eyes. To any observer, he appeared as nothing more than an ordinary boy, neither competing for the lead nor falling behind, silently hoarding his strength for the horrors to come.

Beyond the eight-hundredth step, the pressure abruptly doubled. A thick, suffocating weight descended upon the mountain. The air itself seemed to solidify, pressing down relentlessly on shoulders, spines, and joints. The faces of the mediocre candidates turned ashen in an instant. Their breathing became ragged and heavy, their legs trembling as every step required the totality of their strength. Some, their stamina depleted, collapsed onto the stone steps.

They surrendered to the crushing weight, their dreams of immortality shattered as they were escorted down the mountain by the waiting Outer Sect disciples. The one-thousandth step was the first true watershed of life and death on the Ascension Path. Half of the candidates reached their limit here. Only a dozen or so continued upward, the elite of this year's trial—those with superior talent, will, and physical conditioning.

High above the clouds, Perfected Qingluan sat suspended in the void, looking down upon the path with an indifferent gaze. Beside her, Hu Tieniu stood silently, his eyes scanning each disciple to gauge their endurance and temperament. Reyn continued his steady ascent. Sweat dripped from his chin, soaking his coarse hemp shirt until it clung to his skin like a second layer of lead.

His bones vibrated under the sustained pressure, his meridians felt swollen and numb, and his flesh burned from the invisible friction of the aura. Yet, his back remained straight. His pace never faltered. At the twelve-hundredth step, the Astral Winds rose. Sharp mountain gales pierced through the clouds, lashing against the climbers like needles of ice. The wind tore at their flesh, threatening to uproot them. Many lost their rhythm, their bodies swaying precariously over the abyss.

Reyn lowered his center of gravity, his legs rooting into the stone steps. He allowed the winds to howl against his face, standing as firm as a monolith. At the fifteen-hundredth step, a thick fog locked the mountain. The Ascension Path vanished into a world of grey-white gloom. Visibility plummeted to less than a few feet, turning the world into a hazy labyrinth.

Hidden within the mist was the Soul-Devouring Miasma—wisps of cold, black vapor that slithered into the body to disturb the sea of consciousness and rattle the spirit. This was the Soul-Confusing Stretch, the graveyard of countless aspirants. Through the churning fog, one could hear muffled cries of terror, the whistling sound of bodies falling into the void, and short, desperate screams that were instantly swallowed by the abyss. Reyn held his breath, focusing his Qi to shield his mind.

He suppressed the miasma's influence and stepped firmly into the depths of the fog. He had only taken a few steps when a cold, murderous figure erupted from the side. The attacker moved with terrifying speed, a bolt of pure malice aimed directly at Reyn's path! It was Lei Tianqi! The bastard had no intention of reaching the top. He had suppressed his speed and lurked in the Soul-Confusing Stretch specifically to set this ambush.

From the moment he had recognized Reyn during the spiritual root test, he had decided: today, on the Ascension Path, this remnant of the branch family would die. As a scion of the Lei Clan, Lei Tianqi was heavily armed with high-grade talismans, restrictive artifacts, and protective treasures. Knowing his own Pseudo-Spirit Root would never earn him a top rank, he had abandoned the trial entirely to become an assassin.

"You little bastard! Let's see where you run today!" His venomous roar echoed through the mist. Lei Tianqi's eyes flared with cruelty as he flicked his wrist, launching three Crimson Explosive Talismans simultaneously! Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Firelight tore through the gloom! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! Three consecutive explosions rocked the mountain, sending violent shockwaves of spiritual energy rippling outward.

The stone steps groaned and shuddered, sending debris flying. The chaotic energy disrupted the natural pressure of the path, combining with the Soul-Devouring Miasma to create a lethal death trap. Reyn's pupils constricted. He slammed his foot against the stone, throwing his body backward in a desperate dodge. The blast singed his shoulder, the searing heat charring his clothes and tearing into his flesh. Blood immediately soaked his inner garments, the stinging pain flaring through his nervous system.

Lei Tianqi didn't pause. He lunged again. A cold glint flashed from his sleeve—a three-inch poison-coated stiletto. The tip shimmered with an eerie blue light, coated in the Lei Clan's signature paralyzing toxin. A single scratch would mean certain death. His movements were chaotic but vicious, aimed at Reyn's throat, heart, and danting. It was a style meant for nothing but murder.

"A stray dog of the Lei family dares to dream of joining a sect?" Lei Tianqi snarled, his face twisted in a manic grin. He thrust the dagger in a frantic blur.

"Your parents' lives ended at the hands of my clan. Today, it's only right that you join them!" The narrow steps allowed for only one person. To the left and right lay a bottomless drop. There was no room for evasion. Reyn was forced to fight on the edge of the world. His rusted short sword cleared its scabbard with a hiss. A flash of cold steel met the dagger. The rhythmic clanging of metal on metal rang out as sparks showered into the fog. Blade met stiletto; Qi clashed with Qi.

Lei Tianqi, relying on his endless supply of talismans, squandered his spiritual energy to create chaos. He didn't seek a quick victory; he sought to entangle and delay, to bleed Reyn dry. He knew that even if he couldn't kill Reyn, he could ensure the boy failed the trial by running out the clock. The two engaged in a brutal, desperate struggle on the fifteen-hundredth step. Astral winds howled, miasma swirled, and explosions thundered.

Reyn was pinned down, forced to parry the poisoned blade while resisting the explosive shockwaves and maintaining his balance on the trembling precipice. As the minutes ticked by, Reyn's wounds multiplied. A gash on his arm seeped blackish blood; a blast of energy tore open the flesh at his waist. His old wounds reopened, and new ones screamed with agony. Every swing of his sword sent a jolt of pain through his entire frame. Yet, there was no retreat in his eyes—only a freezing, lethal intent. He parried.

He countered. He endured. His Qi was draining rapidly, his stamina reaching its breaking point. Sweat and blood mingled, dripping into the cracks of the ancient stone. Lei Tianqi grew more frantic, his obsession turning into madness. Seeing that he couldn't break Reyn's defense, he shattered his own protective jade talisman, using the resulting blast to knock Reyn back. Simultaneously, his hands blurred into seals, detonating every remaining talisman he possessed in a final, suicidal burst! Spiritual light erupted!

A wall of flame consumed the path! The entire Soul-Confusing Stretch became a hellscape of distorted pressure and rampaging miasma.

"If I can't have it, neither can you!" Lei Tianqi shrieked.

"Today, you either die or lose your chance at immortality forever!" In the heart of the chaos, Reyn's gaze turned cold. The time for restraint was over. If he held back now, he would die. He abandoned all defense. He funneled every remaining drop of Qi into his limbs and dropped his stance. Using the cover of the smoke and the force of the blast, he surged forward, sliding through the fire to close the distance! Lei Tianqi's eyes widened. He wasn't ready. Before he could react, Reyn's icy stare locked onto him.

Reyn's right arm coiled and snapped forward like a spring. His elbow, reinforced by the totality of his physical strength and remaining Qi, slammed into Lei Tianqi's chest with the force of a falling boulder! THUD! The sound of shattering bone was sickeningly clear. Lei Tianqi's ribcage collapsed inward. He sprayed a fountain of hot blood, his body seizing as the air was forced from his lungs. The madness in his eyes was instantly replaced by a primal, overwhelming terror.

He never imagined that the "stray dog" he had been tormenting could harbor such a devastating, lethal strike. Reyn didn't stop. His expression remained a mask of indifference as he leaned into the strike, adding one final burst of power. CRACK! Another rib snapped. Lei Tianqi's body went limp, flying backward like a tattered sack of grain. He tumbled down the stairs, his screams echoing briefly before being swallowed by the vast, uncaring sea of clouds. He vanished into the abyss.

Reyn stood alone on the blood-stained steps. His wounds were gruesome, his clothes in tatters, and his Qi nearly depleted. He didn't have the strength to check if Lei Tianqi was dead or alive. That malicious struggle had robbed him of his time and his energy. He looked up. The summit was visible now, a distant platform at the end of the world. There's no time left. Without a moment's rest, he suppressed his agony.

He gritted his teeth until they cracked, ignored his bleeding wounds, and began a desperate, final sprint. Two thousand steps... twenty-five hundred... twenty-eight hundred... The pressure was now a physical weight of millions of pounds. His bones groaned, his meridians felt ready to burst. Every step left a faint, bloody footprint on the stone. His vision blurred. Darkness crept into the edges of his sight. He nearly blacked out a dozen times, but the unyielding obsession in his heart kept him upright.

He had survived a mountain of corpses. He had fled three thousand miles. He would not fall here. The last two hundred steps were conquered through sheer, raw hatred and willpower. When his battered body finally lurched onto the three-thousandth step and his feet hit the solid ground of the Ascension Terrace— DONG—! The final bell of the trial rang out across the Xuanxiao Mountains. The trial was over. On the terrace, the successful candidates were already lined up. The registers were being closed.

The spots for True Inheritance, Inner Sect, and regular Outer Sect disciples were all filled. Not a single vacancy remained. Every eye on the platform turned toward Reyn. Some looked with surprise, others with pity, and some with a subtle, mocking curiosity. Anyone could see he was a mess—covered in blood, clothes shredded, Qi exhausted. It was obvious he had been through a life-and-death struggle, not that he was lazy. High on the dais, Perfected Qingluan looked down at the trembling boy.

Her voice was as cold as the mountain wind.

"The time for the Ascension Trial has concluded. The roster is full. Those who arrive late, according to the rules of the Xuanxiao Sect, are disqualified." Her words were a final, iron judgment. Reyn lowered his head, his fingers curling into a tight fist. After all that death, all that struggle... he had been sabotaged out of his future. Beside the dais, Hu Tieniu stepped forward. He bowed to the Perfected and spoke in a low, pleading tone.

"Real One, this boy's heart is firm, and his foundation is solid. He climbed all three thousand steps on his own strength. His lateness was not due to sloth, but because he was maliciously ambushed and delayed. Among this year's candidates, his perseverance is peerless." He paused, then added softly, "The spots are full, and the rules are firm, but... could we make an exception? Perhaps a registered position?" Perfected Qingluan remained silent for a long time.

Her gaze lingered on Reyn's bloody wounds and his straight, unbending back. Even in the face of total failure, he didn't beg. He didn't break. Finally, she spoke.

"The rules shall not be abolished. The spots shall not be increased."

"However, seeing as you completed the path and possess a decent temperament and average roots..."

"You shall be recorded as a Registered Outer Sect Disciple."

"No dedicated resources. No personal instruction. No official disciple status. Whether you can truly stand among us in the future depends entirely on your own cultivation and luck. If your progress stalls, you will be expelled immediately." The dust settled. There was no glory, no reward, no spotlight. He was now the lowest of the low, a disposable placeholder at the very bottom of the sect hierarchy. But for Reyn, it was the only lifeline he needed. He suppressed the bitterness in his heart and bowed deeply.

His voice was raspy but steady.

"This disciple thanks the Real One for her mercy." The mountain wind howled across the terrace, fluttering his blood-soaked rags. He stood at the very edge of the crowd, ignored and unvalued, a boy covered in scars and silence. At that moment, a light chuckle drifted from afar. It sounded miles away, yet in an instant, it felt as though it was whispered directly into his ear.