The sound was almost nothing.
A faint grind of stone against stone, so soft it could have been mistaken for the underground settling. Most of the cultivators didn't notice it at all.
Chang Lee did.
His breath caught as the warmth from the jade pendant shifted—no longer a pulse, no longer a flare, but a steady pull, subtle and insistent. It drew his awareness downward, past the familiar tunnels and chambers, toward a depth that felt tighter, older, wrong.
Elder Mu stiffened.
He slowly turned his head, eyes narrowing toward the sealed corridor behind the training halls—an area long marked with warning runes no one touched.
"…It moved," Elder Mu said quietly.
The room went still.
Elder Shen stepped forward. "What moved?"
Elder Mu didn't answer immediately. His grip tightened on his staff, knuckles paling. "A door," he said at last. "One that has not responded since before the clan recorded its first history."
Yuan Tao swallowed. "I'm guessing that's not good."
Chang Lee felt the pull strengthen.
Not violent. Not demanding.
Inviting.
He shifted his weight without realizing it, one foot angling subtly toward the deeper tunnels.
Qiu Ren noticed. Her eyes sharpened. "He feels it."
Mei Lin's fingers trembled faintly as she activated a detection array. Her face drained of color. "The formation down there… it's realigning on its own."
Han Kuo frowned. "That section was sealed for a reason."
"Yes," Elder Mu replied. "Because it doesn't test talent. It tests endurance."
Chang Lee's heart pounded. His mind raced, but beneath it all, a strange calm settled in. The underground felt closer than ever, as if the stone itself was aware of him—of his breathing, his weight, his presence.
The jade pendant grew warm.
Not hot.
Certain.
Elder Shen exhaled slowly. "If that door opens fully—"
"It won't," Elder Mu interrupted. "Not yet."
He turned to Chang Lee, his gaze heavy, measuring, stripped of all humor. "Tell me," the elder said, "does it feel like a command… or a choice?"
Chang Lee hesitated.
The pull tightened slightly, patient and unyielding.
"…A choice," he said.
Elder Mu nodded once. "That's worse."
From deep within the underground, stone shifted again.
This time, everyone heard it.
And far above the sealed tunnels, beyond earth and mountain, something vast and ancient stirred—as if reacting to the same signal.
................
No one moved.
The grinding sound faded, leaving behind a pressure that settled into the stone like a held breath. The underground did not shake. It waited.
Elder Mu was the first to break the stillness. He struck his staff lightly against the floor—not a command, but a warning. "No one approaches that corridor without my word."
Chang Lee stopped himself mid-step, only then realizing he had begun to move. The pull from the pendant eased slightly, as if acknowledging restraint.
Yuan Tao noticed anyway. "You were walking," he said under his breath.
"I know," Chang Lee replied quietly. His palms were damp. "I didn't decide to."
"That sentence is doing nothing for my nerves."
Han Kuo crossed his arms, eyes fixed on the dark tunnel mouth far down the hall. "If that door responds to him, pretending it doesn't exist won't make us safer."
Elder Shen shot him a sharp look. "And rushing toward it might get us all buried."
Qiu Ren stepped closer to Chang Lee, studying him with open suspicion now. "When you say it feels like a choice," she said, "how hard would it be to refuse?"
Chang Lee closed his eyes briefly.
The underground pressed close, familiar and intimate. Stone. Weight. Endurance. Beneath it all, something narrower—like a path only wide enough for one person at a time.
"…Harder the longer I stand still," he admitted.
Yuan Tao cursed softly. "Of course it is."
Mei Lin swallowed. "The formation down there is stabilizing itself around him. If we delay too long, it may force the issue."
Elder Mu's jaw tightened. "Ancient mechanisms do not force," he said. "They isolate."
That word landed heavily.
Han Kuo shifted his stance. "Meaning?"
"Meaning," Elder Mu said, eyes never leaving Chang Lee, "that if it decides he is unworthy of witnesses, it will seal behind him."
Yuan Tao took an immediate step forward. "Absolutely not."
Chang Lee turned to him. "Tao—"
"No," Yuan Tao snapped, rare edge in his voice. "You don't get to walk into something that old alone just because a rock likes you."
Qiu Ren scoffed. "This isn't about liking him."
"No," Chang Lee said quietly. "It isn't."
The pendant warmed again, sharper this time, as if irritated by the delay. Chang Lee winced, breath hitching.
Elder Mu raised his staff sharply. "Enough."
The pressure steadied.
He exhaled slowly. "We will not ignore this," he said. "And we will not rush blindly. Chang Lee will approach the outer threshold only. No further."
"And if the door opens more?" Elder Shen asked.
Elder Mu's gaze hardened. "Then we learn what it wants."
Chang Lee nodded once, heart pounding.
From the depths of the underground, the stone shifted again—closer this time.
................................
The corridor was narrower than Chang Lee remembered.
Not physically—its width had not changed—but the air felt thicker with every step, as if the underground itself were measuring how much space he deserved. Elder Mu walked ahead, staff tapping softly against the stone. Han Kuo followed behind, heavy footsteps deliberate. Yuan Tao stayed close enough that Chang Lee could feel his presence without looking.
No one spoke.
The warning runes carved along the walls were old—older than the underground settlement itself. Some had faded into shallow scars, others remained sharp, their meanings half-lost but unmistakably severe.
Chang Lee's chest tightened.
With each step forward, the warmth in his abdomen responded, the fragile seed within him stirring uncomfortably. Not growing. Straining.
"You're breathing too fast," Yuan Tao muttered.
Chang Lee forced his breath to slow. "It feels like the walls are leaning in."
"That's because they are," Han Kuo said calmly. "Not physically. Intentionally."
Chang Lee didn't ask what that meant.
They stopped.
Ahead, the corridor ended in a seam so fine it was almost invisible—stone pressed against stone with surgical precision. No handle. No runes. No visible mechanism.
And yet—
Chang Lee felt it watching him.
The jade pendant pulsed once.
A sound followed—not the grind from before, but a soft click, deep and precise, like a lock acknowledging a key it had never expected to see again.
Yuan Tao's breath caught. "Lee…"
"I know."
The seam brightened faintly, just enough to reveal depth behind it. Not a chamber. Not a hall.
A descent.
Chang Lee's heartbeat thundered in his ears as something brushed against his awareness—not a voice, not an image, but a pressure that pressed inward instead of down.
Endure.
The meaning wasn't spoken.
It was imposed.
Pain bloomed suddenly behind Chang Lee's eyes. His knees buckled, and he caught himself on the wall, fingers digging into ancient stone.
"Stop," Elder Mu said sharply. "Do not answer it."
"I'm not," Chang Lee gasped. "It's—testing."
The pressure increased.
Memories surfaced unbidden—fire in the sky, his mother's back as she turned, the sound of screaming cut short. His teeth clenched as guilt, fear, and helplessness pressed down together, heavy as the mountain above.
Yuan Tao grabbed his shoulder. "You're not alone. Look at me."
Chang Lee forced his eyes open.
Yuan Tao was pale, jaw tight—but he was there.
The pressure eased slightly.
The seam did not open further.
Instead, it held.
Waiting.
Chang Lee straightened slowly, chest heaving. Sweat soaked his clothes, limbs trembling—not from weakness, but from restraint.
Elder Mu studied him for a long moment. Then he nodded once.
"It has acknowledged you," the elder said quietly. "And it is dissatisfied."
Chang Lee swallowed.
Above them, far beyond stone and silence, the world shifted—and something patient took note of his hesitation.