Chương 83: 1.83 Indomitable human spirit says what?

The sun rose slowly over the courtyard as Ning calmed his breathing, stretched his spine, turned his waist, and thrust his spear straight forward. Golden morning light fell across his half-dressed body, outlining the lean muscles along his arms, shoulders, and back. To be fair, Ning was not the kind of absurdly muscular cultivator whose single calf looked large enough to dwarf a human head. Still, his strength was far from weak.

His intimidation stat may have suffered because he could not frighten people into submission through his size and height alone, but at least he had the consolation of being the type of person who could beat up those muscular monsters while looking deceptively harmless. In some ways, that was even better. [Cold River Spear Art: Still Water Pierces Stone] Ning slowly thrust his spear again. This time, he did not launch the attack in one smooth motion.

Instead, he broke the technique apart piece by piece, separating every movement into its smallest components. His feet shifted first, finding the correct angle against the ground. Then his waist turned, his spine followed, his shoulder relaxed, and finally, the spear extended forward along a precise path. He was tracing the pathway of a perfect thrust. Each movement was slow but perfectly controlled. The spear advanced inch by inch, as Ning committed every change into his muscles.

Completing a single thrust this way took far longer than normal. Tracing the full sequence, breaking it down, correcting it, and rebuilding it piece by piece consumed dozens of minutes. To an outsider, this might have looked like a waste of time. But Ning knew better. He had the power of anime and xianxia on his side. After all, this was the same world where he had convinced his senior sister and her puppets to throw rocks at him in order to improve his Pure Eyes and reaction speed.

And somehow, that method had actually worked. So yes, the Netero training method would probably work as well. Honestly, Ning would have loved nothing more than to lock himself away on some remote mountain, practice martial arts from sunrise to sunset for fifty years, and only come out after becoming invincible. That sounded exactly like the kind of ridiculous yet effective training arc a proper cultivator should experience. Unfortunately, he did not have fifty spare years to waste for now.

Maybe when his lifespan reached the thousands, he could seriously consider such a run.

"That's enough for today," Ning muttered. He slowly lowered his spear and ended his morning training session. Compared to his usual routine, today's practice was light. After all, this was not an ordinary day. Today was the day he would enter the Heavenly Origin Tower.... The Heavenly Origin Tower, also known as the Hundred Floor Tower, had existed within the Pure Qi Sect since its founding. At this moment, an elder stood before the enormous pagoda and addressed the gathered disciples.

Behind him, the tower rose like a behemoth, its ancient structure piercing into the sky layer by layer. Even without releasing any obvious pressure, its presence alone made the disciples instinctively lower their voices.

"The Heavenly Origin Tower is one of our sect's protecting treasures," the elder said, his voice spreading clearly across the crowd.

"Each opening of the tower requires five years of accumulated resources and spiritual energy. That is why this opportunity is not easily granted." The disciples listened with varying degrees of attention. Some nodded solemnly, absorbing every word. Others were clearly staring past the elder at the tower itself, their eyes bright with excitement.

A few looked as though they had already entered the tower in their imagination and obtained some heaven-defying inheritance that would immediately make them the protagonist of the era. Ning stood among them and nodded along with the crowd. Naturally, he was also excited. During the past week, they had watched many Foundation Establishment cultivators enter the higher floors and display all sorts of wonderful performances. The disciples had enjoyed the spectacle thoroughly.

After all, watching powerful seniors fight, struggle, and show their best prowess was quite entertaining. It also helped that sometimes they could view some embarrassing moments of such powerful elders.

"All of you only have one chance to gain something of true value from the tower," the elder continued.

"Only your first entry is fully recognized. After that, the tower will no longer grant the same opportunities. This is a boon left behind by our respected ancestors for the younger generation, so treasure it properly." Ning's expression became a little more focused hearing that. Only the first entry counted. That meant this was not something he could casually test today and return to exploit later after gathering more information.

The tower recognized first attempts, which meant the best rewards would likely depend on immediate performance. In other words, this was one of those annoying ancient inheritance rules designed specifically to prevent sensible people from abusing preparation. Truly hateful. Also very reasonable. The elder raised his hand, and several servants stepped forward carrying trays. On those trays rested small iron tokens, each one carved with fine golden patterns.

"If you encounter a fatal injury inside the tower, you will be teleported out immediately," the elder said.

"However, remember this clearly. Do not lose your entry token. The token is the object that connects you to the tower's protection. Without it, you will be placing your life in unnecessary danger." The atmosphere finally became more serious. Even the disciples who had been whispering earlier quieted down. The elder's gaze swept across the crowd.

"Now, all of you do your best. Those who wish to enter the tower, come forward and receive your tokens." He paused for a moment before adding, "Also, remember this. To reach the top five floors accessible to new entrants, it is not enough to merely pass the tower's threshold challenges. Your performance must also surpass others. The tower does not reward mediocrity. It rewards excellence." Those words instantly stirred the crowd. Several disciples' eyes sharpened.

Others unconsciously looked around, measuring their fellow participants. The moment comparison was mentioned, the peaceful gathering immediately gained the faint smell of competition. Ning sighed inwardly. Of course, it was not enough to fight the tower. They also had to fight the leaderboard.

"Do your best, Junior Brother," Ling Yinran said from the side. Her voice was gentle, but there was clear encouragement in her eyes. Even though she knew Ning's temperament and strength better than most people here, she still looked slightly worried. Ling Xin stood beside her with her arms crossed, her expression far more casual.

"Remember, safety first," she said. Then, after a brief pause, she added, "But don't forget to kick some ass." Ning nodded seriously. As expected of his master. First survive, then commit violence. Where else could he find such wisdom? He stepped forward with the rest of the disciples. After registering his name, Ning quickly received an iron token from one of the inner sect disciples. The token felt cool in his palm, and faint spiritual energy flowed through the carved golden lines on its surface.

Once everyone had received their tokens, the tower gates opened. A deep rumble spread through the air as the enormous doors slowly parted. One by one, the disciples entered. As its name suggested, the Hundred Floor Tower had one hundred floors. However, only disciples who had never entered before could access the first five floors. These lower floors were meant for the younger generation, a place where new talents could be tested and perhaps rewarded.

The moment Ning stepped onto the first floor, the first thing he noticed was its size. It was enormous. From the outside, the tower had already looked large, but the space within completely ignored common sense. The hall stretched far beyond what the exterior should have allowed. Massive pillars carved from dark jade rose from the floor and extended toward a ceiling. Ancient golden runes flowed across the stone surfaces, illuminating the hall with a soft and sacred glow.

The surrounding walls were covered in murals. Some depicted immortals splitting mountains apart with a casual wave of their sleeves. Others showed colossal beasts devouring suns and moons, their bodies coiling through the void. There were scenes of cultivators standing against heavenly tribulations, their weapons pointed defiantly toward the sky as divine lightning descended in endless streams. Every image carried a faint pressure.

It was not strong enough to injure anyone, but it was enough to make the disciples feel small. The murals seemed to be the same as the spiritual calligraphy and paintings in important locations of the sect; whoever carved them also imbued some will into these figures. Ning looked around with interest.

"From the outside, it doesn't look this large," he muttered.

"Size as you wish?" Artifacts that reached the Nascent Soul level were often called magical treasures or fourth-tier weapons. At that level, they already possessed wondrous qualities beyond ordinary spiritual tools. Expansion and shrinking were among the more basic abilities. Some even possessed properties similar to a cave heaven, forming a separate, independent space carved out and stabilized by cultivators. In other words, the tower being larger inside than outside was not impossible.

Ning could see that the higher in cultivation he went, the more absurd one's ability became. As he surveyed his surroundings, the disciples around him quickly began forming groups. From a rough estimate, Ning could see at least forty cultivators gathered on the first floor. The hall soon became lively. Friends sought one another out. Peak factions quietly reorganized themselves. Some disciples immediately began discussing strategies. Ning did not pay much attention to them.

Instead, he quickly searched for the protagonist. A moment later, he found Xiao Fan leaning against one of the dark jade pillars. The young man stood quietly with his arms crossed, looking far less excited than most of the surrounding disciples. Compared to those who were eager to show off, Xiao Fan appeared too calm as if outside this mundanity. Naturally, that made him look even more protagonist-like. Xiao Fan also noticed Ning's gaze. Their eyes met across the hall. Both of them gave a simple nod.

Ning originally considered going over to talk to him, but after thinking about it for half a breath, he restrained himself with great wisdom. Approaching Xiao Fan in an inheritance tower was basically inviting trouble. Moreover, Ning could already see Qiu Han walking toward Xiao Fan from the side.

"Brother Ning!" A familiar voice rang out from somewhere within the crowd. Ning turned his head and quickly spotted Zhang Feng waving at him with great enthusiasm. Beside him stood Wei Zhusang, his enormous hammer resting across one shoulder. Lang Rulang was also there, wearing her usual expressionless face, while Su Fan stood nearby with a faint smile. Ning immediately walked over.

"It's been a while, guys." Then he paused, glanced at Zhang Feng, and added before the man could open his mouth, "And by that, I don't mean you." Zhang Feng froze.

"You beat me to it," he said, sighing with genuine regret.

"And today, I really thought I would be the one correcting you."

"That would have been a surprise for sure," Wei Zhusang said dryly. Then he turned toward Ning with a more serious expression.

"I heard you were able to apprentice under Senior Ling Xin. Congratulations. It seems our group will have another alchemist now."

"You praise me too much," Ning said modestly, then patted Su Fan on the shoulder.

"Brother Su Fan is still my senior in that regard." Su Fan smiled.

"Good job. It seems you got your wish." Then he shook his head with mock regret.

"It's just a pity you won't be able to help me as much in alchemy anymore."

"That only means we can discuss different things instead," Ning replied with a smile. As for Lang Rulang, Ning simply gave her a polite greeting.

"It's good to see you too, Sister Lang."

"Same to you." Ning froze. The others also paused. Lang Rulang had actually responded. Not with a cold grunt or even a faint nod, but proper words.

"T-this…" Ning stared at her in shock. Lang Rulang narrowed her eyes.

"What is that reaction?"

"Um." Ning coughed lightly.

"I mean, this might be the first time you've actually responded to my greeting."

"That's right," Zhang Feng immediately said, placing a hand over his chest with exaggerated emotion.

"Lang Rulang, you have truly mellowed out. The cold mountain has finally begun to melt."

"You people…" Lang Rulang's expression darkened slightly. She turned her face away with a snort.

"Why did I even bother responding? This is exactly why I don't respond."

"I'm sorry, Senior Lang," Ning said with great sincerity.

"Please don't go back into your shell." Zhang Feng burst out laughing at once, and even Wei Zhusang's shoulders shook slightly. Su Fan covered his smile with one hand, while Lang Rulang looked as though she was seriously reconsidering every life choice that had led her to associate with this group. Ning also smiled. After entering the inner sect, their chances of meeting had become much rarer. During the first year, everyone had been busy adjusting to their new environment.

The inner sect was not like the outer sect, where disciples could roam around with fewer obligations. Each person had their own peak, their own master, their own cultivation arrangements, and their own responsibilities. Zhang Feng and the others, as heirs or important juniors of their respective cultivation families, had also apprenticed under Foundation Establishment relatives or seniors within the sect. Because of that, seeing them gathered together like this felt oddly nostalgic.

"All right, everyone," Wei Zhusang said after the laughter died down. His expression became more focused as he looked across the hall.

"Since we're here, there are a few people worth paying attention to." Ning immediately became interested. Information was always useful. Especially free information. Wei Zhusang lifted his chin toward a group in the distance. At the center of that group stood a handsome young man wearing expensive robes embroidered with silver spirit-thread. The fabric shimmered faintly whenever he moved, and even from a distance, one could tell that his outfit was worth more spirit stones than some disciples' entire net worth.

Several cultivators surrounded him in a loose protective formation, their positions casual at first glance but clearly arranged to guard him from all sides. Ning blinked.

"…Why does he look like a young master traveling with personal guards?" Wei Zhusang snorted.

"Because that's exactly what he is."

"Hm?"

"That is Lei Dong," Wei Zhusang explained.

"Seventh-stage Qi Condensation." Ning nodded. By itself, seventh-stage Qi Condensation was good. Among the disciples entering the Heavenly Origin Tower, there were several people around that level. Then Wei Zhusang continued.

"He is one of the grandsons of Purple Mansion Elder Lei Fu." The atmosphere around them changed immediately.

"A Purple Mansion elder?" Zhang Feng sucked in a sharp breath. Even Ning's expression became more serious. There were only six Purple Mansion elders in the entire Pure Qi Sect. Each one stood far above ordinary Foundation Establishment cultivators and possessed tremendous authority. Being the grandson of such a figure practically meant that Lei Dong had been born standing on a mountain while others were still searching for a hill to climb. No wonder he had guards.

Zhang Feng looked toward Lei Dong's group again and frowned.

"I see a ninth-stage Qi Condensation cultivator around him, along with several eighth-stage cultivators. What is going on with that?" Ning also narrowed his eyes slightly. He already had a guess. And that guess was extremely xianxia.

"They are his guards," Wei Zhusang said.

"Everyone knows that entering the tower at a lower stage of Qi Condensation usually grants better evaluations and greater rewards. The tower values potential. However, cultivation still has its advantages in certain levels. So these people deliberately waited. They have been in the inner sect for years but never entered the tower. Now, they are entering for the first time only to help their young master." Zhang Feng stared for a moment.

"Wow. That's so scummy." Ning nodded calmly. He was not surprised. Blatant rule-bending from a young master was practically a local specialty in cultivation worlds. In fact, compared to some of the nonsense he had read in novels, this was almost restrained. At least Lei Dong had not arrived in a dragon carriage pulled by enslaved phoenixes while loudly declaring that everyone beneath the Purple Mansion realm should kneel before him. Su Fan also nodded thoughtfully.

"But that doesn't mean he will receive the highest evaluation. For most of the tower's levels, performance depends on oneself."

"Right," Lang Rulang said.

"Borrowed strength may help him pass some challenges, but the tower will not necessarily recognize it as his own ability." The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Ning glanced at their faces and noticed a faint tension beneath their calm expressions. It made sense. Zhang Feng, Wei Zhusang, Lang Rulang, and Su Fan were all from decent backgrounds themselves.

However, because they had privilege, they also understood more clearly how terrifying it was to face someone even more privileged. A person with no background might only see Lei Dong's arrogance, but those who know understand why that arrogance existed in the first place. For the next few moments, Wei Zhusang continued introducing several notable figures throughout the hall. Most of them, however, were not as eye-catching as Lei Dong.

Since the Heavenly Origin Tower only opened once every five years, many of the disciples entering had joined the inner sect during that period. Their cultivation levels generally ranged from the seventh stage to the early eighth stage of Qi Condensation. There were no other blatant high-tier Qi Condensation cultivators roaming around. What Ning found especially interesting was that Wei Zhusang also spoke seriously about Xiao Fan and Qiu Han.

"Qiu Han, you all know already. During the competition, he had already reached the seventh stage. After this year of training, his strength must have improved even further." Wei Zhusang paused, then looked toward another part of the hall.

"As for Xiao Fan, he is an anomaly who cannot be judged by common sense. Even though he is only at the sixth stage of Qi Condensation, he must be watched carefully." Ning could not help feeling impressed.

"You're really thorough." Others might have looked down on Xiao Fan again because his cultivation had not risen as quickly as some of the more privileged disciples. After all, cultivation realms were the easiest thing to compare. But Wei Zhusang did not make that mistake. Instead, he became even more cautious. Truly, Wei Zhusang possessed the kind of common sense Ning wished he could distribute to the rest of the world. Hm. Maybe there is a pill for that or I could make one. Ning mused.

It was not impossible after all.

"Ning!" A blur suddenly crashed directly into their circle. Ning nearly stabbed first and identified the target second. Fortunately, his eyes won the race against his instincts. Jin Shu appeared before them. The beast tamer looked as though she had consumed three bottles of stimulation pills before entering the tower. Her eyes were bright and the sheer energy radiating from her was something to behold.

"I heard you became a beast tamer!" Jin Shu said excitedly.

"Let's battle. Last time, you won, but this time I will give it my all." Ning immediately felt a headache coming.

"How did you even know about Fenghuang?"

"Well, it's simple, really." Jin Shu smiled brightly.

"I keep tabs on you." Ning stared at her.

"Huh?"

"Ohhh!" Zhang Feng immediately leaned closer, making exaggerated noises of understanding.

"I didn't expect your charm to be so great, Brother Ning."

"Bruh." Ning shoved him away with one hand before the man could continue elbowing him with that smug expression. Then he turned back toward Jin Shu.

"Why are you even doing that?"

"I just wanted to," Jin Shu said as though the answer was obvious.

"You are my rival, aren't you? You beat me despite being weaker than me, and you taught me an important lesson about never underestimating my enemies." She spoke with complete sincerity. Previously, Jin Shu had been confident to the point of carelessness. But after their fight, she had clearly adjusted her attitude. Now she had the habit of starting with her strongest moves immediately. Even if her opponent seemed weak, she would not hold back. In a way, that was excellent growth.

Unfortunately, Ning was the source of this growth. Which meant the result was now hunting him.

"Your main profession is beast taming," Ning said with a deep sigh.

"You will certainly win if we fight properly in that field."

"That doesn't matter." Jin Shu's eyes shone.

"I just want to fight you and get better." She looked like a child demanding another round of a game. A very dangerous child. With beasts that could make ones on earth look like puppies. Ning looked for support. Zhang Feng immediately looked away. Coward. Wei Zhusang was trying very hard not to laugh and failing with every passing breath. Even Lang Rulang had somehow drifted several steps farther away without making a sound. Traitors. The lot of them. Eventually, Ning surrendered.

"Well, it wouldn't be bad to gain some experience fighting a beast tamer while using Fenghuang. After the tower, bring it on."

"As expected of my rival!" Jin Shu declared, her face lighting up.

"Our fight will be legendary. Again!" Then, just like the storm she had arrived as, she left the same way. Within moments, she was already bothering another disciple. Xiao Fan. He had been speaking with Qiu Han, but Jin Shu charged into that conversation with the exact same energy. No doubt she was delivering the same challenge speech, since Xiao Fan had also defeated her after Ning during the competition. Ning watched her disappear into the crowd before sighing.

"I think I finally understand."

"What?" Zhang Feng asked.

"People say beast tamers gradually gain some characteristics from their beast companions." Ning's expression became solemn.

"Jin Shu definitely has that mentality." For a moment, there was silence. Then even Lang Rulang looked as though she was suppressing a smile. The group finally burst into laughter. Unfortunately, before the conversation could continue, the entire hall suddenly trembled. A deep rumble echoed through the structurer as instantly, every golden rune within the hall ignited. Disciples who had been laughing moments ago became serious. Excitement still lingered within the crowd, but now their eyes were sharp.

A golden staircase appeared on the side. And an ancient voice accompanied it.

"Stairs of the Worthy. Those who climb a hundred of them would be allowed to go to the next floor; those who climbed higher than that would be regarded highly. The stairs know who you are, so climb as high as you can." Ning looked toward the golden staircase that had materialized along the far wall of the hall, rising upward in a straight line before curving out of sight somewhere far above. It was wide enough that fifty disciples could climb side by side without crowding.

The steps themselves were pale gold, smooth-surfaced, without any visible mechanism or obvious trick. Just stairs. Ning knew better than to underestimate things that looked simple. Especially stairs, they were the mortal enemy of a certain Kung Fu Panda, so that only added to this conclusion. Around him, disciples were already moving. The initial hesitation had lasted approximately three seconds before the collective competitive instinct of forty-nine cultivators overcame it entirely.

"Well," Wei Zhusang said.

"Shall we?"

"Mm." Ning was still studying the stairs.

"Brother Ning." Zhang Feng fell into step beside him as they joined the flow of disciples moving toward the base.

"You are staring a hole through the stairs."

"I'm trying to figure out what 'the stairs know what you are' means before I find out the hard way."

"Reasonable." Su Fan adjusted the alchemy pouch at his belt as they walked.

"It's likely a pressure mechanism of some kind. Most tower trials use them."

"Pressure based on what, though?" Ning said. Not a question so much as thinking out loud.

"Cultivation stage is the obvious answer," Su Fan replied.

"Higher stage, heavier the weight."

"But that would just be a test of raw strength. Any body cultivator would sail past everyone at their same stage." Ning shook his head.

"Too simple for something that says it knows what you are. Of course, it could be that simple." Lang Rulang, walking on his other side, said nothing. But she was listening.

"Well, we will only find out after climbing, won't we?" Wei Zhusang had the same thought, but he moved quickly.

"Yes." The moment Ning stepped onto the first stair, nothing happened. The golden stone beneath his foot felt perfectly ordinary. The surrounding spiritual energy remained calm, his qi flowed through his meridians as smoothly as usual, and for a brief moment, the entire staircase seemed almost peaceful. Several disciples nearby immediately relaxed.

Some of them had been holding their breath since the trial began, their shoulders stiff and their expressions solemn, yet after seeing that the first stair produced no visible reaction, confidence returned to their faces far too quickly.

"It seems the first floor isn't that difficult."

"I knew the rumors were exaggerated."

"Hahaha! I almost got nervous for a second." Ning glanced at them quietly and, with the mercy of a man who had seen too many cliché death flags in his previous life, silently categorized them as future victims of overconfidence. They looked like the type of fodder that existed only to show the severity of the situation. Outside the tower, this time, there was no screen displaying this sight to the public.

Rather, only Foundation Building cultivators and above were present in a hall with the screen showing the inside situation.

"Haha, as expected, there are always some fearless people. I didn't expect there to be so many of them." An elder, He Shou, laughed, looking at the situation inside. He was an elder of the forging peak.

"More like stupid, I would say." Another elder snickered. He was Lou Ren, another elder of the forging peak.

"Hey, cut them some slack. We didn't fare so much better ourselves. It's not like they have any information about what's going to happen, since those of us who have done this challenge are forbidden by oath to reveal any information." A sensible elder reminded them. He was Hong Zeiling of the disciplinary committee.

"Well, that's the fun of it. One of them even tried to bribe me, you know. A sizable amount, too, to disclose the information." He shou smirked.

"Knowing you, you probably swindled that poor disciple." Hong Zeiling sighed. Was it a wonder why being an elder of the disciplinary hall was hard? Even the elders were no better.

"I am just teaching the disciple a hard lesson, to know who to trust." He Shou spoke with much wisdom. As long-lived human beings, they all had some bad taste. Especially seeing these brats wander around like headless chickens was fun in itself. Moreso, if they make a stupid decision.

"These old fogies really have bad taste." Ling Xin, who was also lounging around the hall, muttered.

"I don't think you are qualified to talk about bad taste in this hall." A mature woman was the one who replied; she bore some facial similarity to Lang Rulang. She was Lang Feilang, the closest friend of Ling Xin.

"Nonetheless, I am surprised you are here. Perhaps it's due to your disciple."

"Yup. Just like you with your niece." Ling Xin nodded.

"I would like to see how the younger generation fares in this. We can gauge the depth of our disciples." Lang Feilang said.

"Don't call them the younger generation, it makes me feel old." Ling Xin complained.

"Well, at least mentally you can feel that, since physically you never can." Lang Feilang teased, only to receive a pout from the alchemy master.

"Anyway, let's see how the disciples fare." By the time Ning reached the tenth stair, the first trace of pressure descended. It was faint at first, so subtle that it almost seemed like an illusion. The golden stone beneath his feet had not changed, and nothing visible pressed down upon him, yet Ning could clearly feel the surrounding space become heavier. The pressure came from everywhere at once, seeping into the air, wrapping around his limbs, and pressing against his body from every direction.

Most disciples did not even notice it precisely because it was subtly everpresent. Ning continued climbing. Twelfth stair. Fifteenth. Twentieth. With each step, the pressure increased by a fraction. The disciples who had been laughing grew quieter, focusing on maintaining their breath. One by one, the careless smiles vanished from the staircase, replaced by stiff expressions and narrowed eyes. By the twenty-fifth stair, the trial finally revealed its teeth. A disciple several rows ahead suddenly staggered.

His face drained of color, and the veins along his neck bulged as he desperately circulated spiritual qi through his body. For a few breaths, he tried to force himself upright through sheer pride, but pride was useless before the tower's judgment. His knees buckled, his palm struck the stair beneath him, and before he could even shout in frustration, a beam of golden light descended from above. The disciple vanished instantly.

The surrounding crowd fell silent for half a breath before whispers erupted like disturbed birds.

"That was a seventh-stage cultivator."

"He failed before thirty steps?"

"What kind of staircase is this?" Ning narrowed his eyes slightly. Interesting. The pressure was not simply testing cultivation. If it were, that disciple should not have failed so quickly. His realm had not been low among the inner disciples, and his qi had not seemed particularly weak. Yet the tower had removed him before many others who possessed lower cultivation. That meant the staircase was examining something deeper. Something hidden beneath the surface of cultivation itself. Ning continued upward.

Thirty steps. Thirty-five. Forty. The pressure steadily increased, and by now it no longer felt like mere weight. Rather, it had an inquisitive feel to it. It was a weird experience to say the least. Ning could feel that invisible attention passing through him, examining his meridians, his bones, his spiritual qi, and the foundation beneath his realm. Nothing seemed hidden from it. The stairs know what you are. The tower's earlier words resurfaced in Ning's mind, and his eyes brightened with understanding.

"So that's what it meant. Foundation," Ning said.

"What?" Zhang Feng looked over. Outside, Lang Feilang leaned toward Ling Xin.

"Your disciple is sharp. He figured it out so soon." Ling Xin smiled, pleased.

"Well, he learned from the best."

"The stairs test your foundation." Ning glanced at him.

"Same-stage cultivators don't feel the same weight. Someone at the sixth stage with a perfectly refined foundation, clean qi, solid meridians, and refined control feels lighter than someone at the sixth stage who burned through resources to advance fast and left gaps underneath." Wei Zhusang stopped walking for exactly one step. Then he started again, slower.

"That would mean cultivators who rushed their stages feel heavier pressure than their actual peers," he said.

"Right."

"And people who built carefully feel lighter than their cultivation stage would suggest."

"Also right." Su Fan was quiet for a moment and then spoke, "That changes things considerably." Ning nodded. It changed things considerably for Lei Dong's guards as well. Higher cultivation stage meant heavier baseline weight, which the stairs would then further adjust based on quality. Especially, all his guards were quite old, and it was clear their main focus was not on cultivation. The stairs were not going to be kind to them. Far ahead, several powerful disciples were already approaching the sixtieth stair.

Some moved with steady confidence, their robes fluttering faintly in the heavy air, while others were clearly beginning to struggle. Even among those known as talents, differences were beginning to emerge. The higher they climbed, the fewer companions remained, and the staircase gradually turned from a crowded trial into a merciless sieve. Step forty-five. Step fifty. At the fiftieth stair, the pressure transformed completely. The bones throughout Ning's body creaked faintly.

His muscles tightened as though invisible hands had wrapped around every part of him and begun squeezing with force. It felt as though the world itself was rejecting his ascent. Several disciples stopped entirely. Some sat down immediately, knowing that another step would only humiliate them. Others stubbornly attempted to move forward, only for their legs to tremble violently before collapsing to their knees. Golden beams descended one after another, removing those who had reached their limits.

Each disappearance made the remaining disciples more silent. The staircase had become merciless. Yet Ning's expression gradually calmed. Because this feeling was familiar. Training hurt. Body refinement hurt. Practicing spear arts until his palms tore open hurt. Having his muscles scream beneath the pressure of repeated failures hurt.

The body did not become stronger through comfort, and cultivation had never been some graceful immortal fantasy where one sat beneath the moon, breathed twice, and ascended while flower petals danced around them. Them be stuff of legends. Reality was often disappointing.

For him, cultivation had always been sweating until his robes clung to his skin, staggering back up after being knocked down, forcing his qi through aching meridians, and convincing himself that one more attempt was possible even when his entire body disagreed. Compared to those things, this staircase was simply another form of suffering. And Ning had become surprisingly good at suffering. The Path of the Grind did not exist because training was enjoyable.

No sane person looked at pain, exhaustion, repeated failure, and spiritual drain and thought, Ah yes, my beloved leisure activity. The Path of the Grind existed because improvement was worth the suffering. It existed because every drop of sweat became accumulation, every bruise became experience, every miserable step forward was still a step forward, and at the end one could see the effect of their effort. Ning exhaled slowly. Then he climbed. Step fifty-three. A sharp pain suddenly pierced one of his meridians.

His expression changed immediately. He recognized the location. [Panel] When he had advanced using the Dragon Qi Grass, a tiny imperfection had formed within his qi circulation. In normal situations, even with his Know Thyself, this had never come up. Only due to this overwhelming pressure, making his meridians behave differently, did he notice this flaw. Such an insignificant flaw, not even registered by his panel, was now magnified. Ning did not panic. He adjusted his circulation at once.

His qi slowed, compressed, and shifted along a slightly different route. The pain sharpened for a breath, then gradually faded as the flaw was relieved. His panel was never the type to make him succeed all at once, but it was best at eliminating flaws one by one. Once he could see the flaw in the panel, it was easy enough to correct it. The process was uncomfortable, but Ning's eyes brightened instead of darkening.

"A mirror." A mirror capable of exposing flaws even cultivators themselves could not perceive. To others, the staircase might have been a cruel obstacle. To Ning, it was practically a free diagnostic tool. If the tower wanted to expose his weaknesses, then so be it. He would look at every single one of them properly, memorize them, correct them, and come out better for it. That was the correct attitude. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade or something like that. He continued climbing. Sixty. Seventy.

The pressure became increasingly terrifying. Every step felt as though mountains had been chained to his limbs. Sweat soaked through his robes and slid down his temples, while his breathing grew rough enough that he could hear it clearly over the fading noises around him. Yet Ning did not stop. One step. Then another. Then another. He did not think about the top. He did not think about how many stairs remained. That kind of thought was poisonous. He had hiked enough in his past to know about this.

So Ning focused only on the next step. Lift the foot. Place it down. Stabilize the breath. Adjust the qi. Endure the pain. Repeat. Eventually, Ning reached the hundredth stair and the pressure vanished completely. The sudden disappearance was so abrupt that his body, which had been braced against the crushing force for dozens of steps, nearly stumbled forward. Cool spiritual energy washed over him, sinking into his skin and easing the burning in his muscles.

For several moments, Ning simply stood there and breathed, feeling the absence of pressure was almost euphoric. Then he looked upward. Another hundred stairs stretched into the clouds. Just like the voice said, a hundred was only the threshold. To go beyond that was the mark of excellence. Ning didn't immediately advance; rather, he took this time to catch his breath. Beside him, there were others who had reached this step. Ning was fast, but it had taken time to resolve the complications he had found.

He did not wait long before Wei Zhusang, Zhang Feng, Lang Rulang, and Su Fan appeared. It was easier for those of lower cultivation to climb higher, especially since all of them had progressed far into the sixth stage of qi cultivation, making their foundation more refined than someone just starting a new stage.

"Whoever designed this trial doesn't care about human knees. I had to crawl several steps." Su Fan said, still catching his breath. As an alchemist, his foundation was adequate, but his zealous devotion to alchemy had left it less polished than it could have been.

"Yeah. But we made it, didn't we?" Zhang Feng, ever the supportive one, found the strength to pat Su Fan on the back. The trio's foundation was solid; that much the staircase had confirmed.

"So, do we climb higher?" Wei Zhusang put the real question forward. Outside, the same discussion was happening.

"How many do you think would reach the hundred and fiftieth step?" The elders were at this point gambling.

"Looking at this batch, I see a few with potential. Maybe around five?" He Shou said.

"Five may be too optimistic. This first stage is practically a freebie. As long as none of them abused dual cultivation or pills to advance quickly, they have a high enough chance of reaching the hundredth step. Among those of us here, who didn't reach this step?" Lou Ren disagreed. They were all Foundation Building experts, outside the sect, they would even be addressed as ancestors out of respect. Their foundations were solid without exception.

"Now is the time to see the guts of this younger generation." Hong Zeiling nodded....

"I think we should climb higher," Ning said.

"We are all here to get some inheritance. Only reaching the hundredth step would not qualify us for that."

"As expected of the founder of the Dao of Grind." Zhang Feng muttered, then nodded, approving of the idea.

"Now is the time for our youth to burn brighter. We should tackle this head-on."

"So brutish." Lang Rulang snorted.

"But the idea has merit."

"Tsk. Since I am here, I will climb higher." Su Fan added.

"The decision has been made. Everyone, let's take as many steps as possible." Wei Zhusang said. Ning nodded and quickly added, "Guys, I want to check on someone. You continue."

"Okay." Though surprised, Wei Zhusang nodded. Ning walked toward Qiu Han.

"Brother Qi, I thought Xiao Fan was with you. What happened?" Besides Ning and his group, Qiu Han, Jin Shu, and others with high-grade spiritual roots had also reached this level with relative ease.

"It's you." Qiu Han gave Ning a brief nod, rude as always, then continued, "Xiao Fan seems to be struggling. He was the slowest while climbing."

"Slowest." Ning blinked. The protagonist, whose entire concept was building the strongest foundation known to heaven and earth, was finding difficulty in the very stage where he should have dominated.

"Yes." Qiu Han nodded.

"Maybe it's his low-grade spiritual root holding him back. To reach his current level, he must have consumed a fair number of pills." Ning turned that over once in his mind. Right. Low-grade spiritual root meant a heavier pill dependency to keep pace. Anyway, protagonists only ever had two settings in this type of challenge: being the fastest or being the slowest. Xiao Fan appeared to be the latter type.

"But I believe in him. He had the guts to beat me; he wouldn't fall at this level." Qiu Han said, with iron certainty. Ning just looked at the guy. He had grown close to Xiao Fan, it seemed. Still, he agreed, "I think so too. Anyway, I'll get going. Do your best."

"Hn." Qiu Han merely grunted. That arrogant bastard. Ning stepped onto the hundred-and-first stair. The familiar pressure returned, only instead of increasing gradually, it felt exponential. If the first hundred stairs had asked whether their foundations were stable, then the second hundred seemed determined to ask whether they were stubborn enough to continue. It was nightmare difficulty for sure. Ning continued walking. One hundred and ten. One hundred and fifteen. Every step became more difficult than the last.

The first hundred had been manageable through qi cultivation alone. Now that was no longer enough. He unleashed his body cultivation. [Jade Skin and Icy Meridians] The heat accumulating in his body cooled as he circulated the cold qi. Ning had never felt so grateful for having chosen this technique until now. Only someone who had climbed a literal mountain parched with thirst, and finally taken that drink of water, could truly relate to him. By the one hundred and twentieth stair, Su Fan stopped and went down.

Ning glanced toward Wei Zhusang and the others, and saw only determination to walk farther. It was around the hundred and fortieth step that Wei Zhusang's legs finally gave out. He stood there a moment, hands braced on his knees, shoulders working with each breath.

"This seems to be my limit." He looked between Ning and Zhang Feng.

"You two always had too much guts." Lang Rulang stopped just a few steps after, her breath coming in short bursts.

"You win this time," she said to the two of them, then the golden light took her. It was around the hundred and sixty-seventh step that Zhang Feng finally stopped. The normally cheerful disciple sat heavily onto a stair and exhaled like a man who had given everything he had.

"I've also hit my limit," he said, his voice thin with exhaustion.

"But limits are made to be broken, right?" Ning said, his own lungs not faring much better. He didn't want his friend to drop out now.

"True, but unlike you, I broke my limit a long time ago." Zhang Feng said.

"In fact, it was because of you that I surpassed Wei Zhusang and Lang Rulang. As far as I remember, those two were always ahead of me."

"B-but—" It was rare for Ning to stutter.

"Thank you for pushing me this far, Ning. I want you to go as high as you can." Zhang Feng smiled.

"Go climb for me." Ning couldn't help but smile back.

"You are always so extra..."

"Yup, that's my brand alright. Anyway, this is it for me." Zhang Feng closed his eyes, but not before uttering words that confused Ning: "Maybe I'll join the Dao of Grind after all..."

"Hm?" Ning paused and blinked. He must have heard wrong due to the pressure. Yes. Must have been the wind. Now one of the few still climbing, he pressed on. Even Lei Dong gradually slowed. As the grandson of a Purple Mansion cultivator, he might have been spoiled, but his foundation was beyond doubt. Yet the stairs now demanded more than the foundation alone. He too fell. By now, Ning felt he was the only one still moving forward.

The only reason was that his eyes were on the panel, or rather, his numbers were climbing again. [Jade Skin and Icy Meridians: Marrow Refining (323. 034 → 323. 035)] Body refining was, in essence, nothing more than pushing one's body to its limit and forcing it to evolve further. Ning had accumulated enough ice qi in his body from the constant Frozen Breath Grain consumption and ice-attribute pill consumption over time. Now that accumulation was being refined here, turning into tangible improvement.

It was such a xianxia-esque thing that Ning didn't even know where to begin complaining. Or rather, complaining was the least of his concerns right now. His muscles screamed with every movement. His bones creaked so sharply that he could almost imagine hearing tiny cracks echoing from within. Every breath felt like inhaling molten iron scraping through his chest before settling in his lungs.

His spiritual qi, which had once circulated smoothly, now moved like a river forced through a narrow gorge, surging against resistance again and again. Yet despite all of that, he was improving. Ning didn't cultivate simply because he liked being strong. He had known from the beginning that the true nature of this world was the law of the jungle. Being weak was considered a genuine sin here. So Ning cultivated.

He cultivated because in this world, ignorance could get a person killed and arrogance could get a person crippled. If he wanted to survive among monsters, protagonists, hidden old ghosts, mysterious inheritances, arrogant young masters, and whatever heavenly nonsense waited around the next corner, then he needed accumulation. More strength, more endurance, more control, more power. More everything. So he stepped forward. Again and again. In fact, at this point, it would have been acceptable for Ning to give up.

He was even prepared to, after seeing his numbers slow their wild growth. But then he heard it. A set of footsteps, just as persistent as his own. The sound became strangely important. Ning was lightheaded, but he could hear them. One step. Then another. That rhythm told him that someone else was still fighting. Someone else was still enduring. Someone else was proving that the limit ahead had not yet arrived. Arriving at a broader landing, he watched another figure step onto the same stair.

Who else could it be but the protagonist? The one who started the slowest, yet climbed the highest. Xiao Fan. The two looked at one another. Neither spoke immediately. Both were drenched in sweat. Both looked exhausted. Xiao Fan's chest rose and fell heavily, and his usual straightforward expression carried a rare sharpness. Finally, Xiao Fan laughed.

"You know." Ning wiped sweat from his chin.

"Hm?"

"This might be the first time we've actually competed." Ning blinked, then thought about it. Surprisingly, Xiao Fan was right. They had fought together. They had helped each other more than once. They had stood on the same side against enemies and trouble, and Ning had often treated Xiao Fan as a walking natural disaster. But they had never truly competed. Most of the time, they were chasing different things. It showed in their approach to the path of cultivation. But here, none of that mattered.

There was only one staircase. One direction. One path forward. Ning smiled despite the pain.

"I suppose it is." Xiao Fan looked upward toward the remaining stairs, then back toward Ning. His breathing was still heavy, but his eyes were bright.

"No holding back?" Ning snorted.

"As if I could afford to." The pressure crushing his body made even speaking difficult. He had already stopped holding back long ago. Xiao Fan laughed. Then he stepped forward. Ning followed. The two continued climbing. Neither accelerated wildly. Neither tried to sprint ahead. At this height, such foolishness would only waste strength and invite collapse. Instead, they climbed, slowly, yet surely.

The pressure continued increasing, their breathing growing rougher with each step, their movements slowing, their bodies screaming for rest. Yet neither stopped. Every step tempered their bodies. Every step polished their will. Every step forced them to confront the soft, reasonable voice inside that said they had already done enough. And every time that voice appeared, Ning crushed it beneath his foot along with the next stair. At some point, the destination itself stopped mattering. There was only the next step.

And then the one after that. Ning's world narrowed until it contained only pain, breath, qi, stone, and the figure climbing beside him. Move forward. Endure. Accumulate. Repeat. For cultivators walking their own paths toward immortality, perhaps this was the most honest trial of all. Just the question hidden beneath every trial and tribulation.

When your body trembles, when your qi strains, when your pride is gone, when no one can carry you, and when stopping would be perfectly understandable- Can you still take one more step? Ning lowered his head, smiled through the exhaustion, and stepped upward again.... Thanks for reading~