The passage ended without warning.
One step there was stone beneath their feet—
the next, space opened.
They emerged into a vast circular hall carved directly into the mountain's heart. The ceiling arched impossibly high, vanishing into darkness. Pillars rose like the ribs of some colossal beast, each etched with countless overlapping symbols that hurt the eyes if stared at too long.
At the center floated a platform of translucent stone.
Suspended above it were seven objects.
None of them radiated power.
That alone made Shen Yuan's skin crawl.
Cultivators feared what they could not sense.
"This…" Zhou Kai whispered hoarsely. "This is an inheritance hall."
His voice cracked on the last word.
Hope—ugly, desperate—flickered in the survivors' eyes.
Inheritance meant salvation.
It also meant competition.
The moment the last person entered, the passage behind them sealed soundlessly.
The platform pulsed.
A presence descended—not crushing, not violent—but intimate, as though something leaned close enough to breathe against their thoughts.
No voice echoed.
Instead, meaning pressed directly into their minds.
—Choose.
—Advance, and leave something behind.
One of the independents laughed shakily. "A test… just a test."
He stepped forward.
The moment his foot touched the platform, one of the floating objects drifted toward him—a small jade slip, cracked down the middle.
Ecstasy flooded his face as he reached for it.
Then—
His laughter cut off.
His eyes went empty.
He stood there, unmoving.
"What's wrong?" someone shouted.
The jade slip fell from his fingers.
The man turned slowly.
And walked away.
Not back toward them.
Toward a side corridor that had not existed before.
He did not look back.
"Stop him!" Zhou Kai barked.
No one moved.
They all understood instinctively—
That man was gone.
Not dead.
Worse.
The platform pulsed again.
Shen Yuan's shard burned.
A vision flashed—
A cultivator advancing rapidly, climbing realms effortlessly…
only to stand years later, unable to recognize his own reflection.
The price.
It was not cultivation.
It was something internal.
Zhou Kai staggered forward.
"I'll choose," he said, teeth clenched. "I've already lost everything else."
One of the objects descended toward him—a dark, ring-shaped artifact.
It hovered inches from his chest.
The presence pressed closer.
Shen Yuan felt it clearly now.
This was not charity.
This was selection.
The ring touched Zhou Kai.
He screamed.
Not in pain—
In terror.
Memories spilled from him like smoke.
Pride.
Ambition.
The belief that he was special.
The ring drank them in.
When it withdrew, Zhou Kai collapsed.
Alive.
But empty.
He crawled away, shaking, clutching his head. "I… I don't remember… why does this hurt…?"
The survivors recoiled.
Advancement without self was not advancement.
It was replacement.
The presence shifted.
Attention brushed Shen Yuan.
The shard flared violently, flooding him with images—
People refusing and being erased.
People accepting and being hollowed.
A narrow third path, walked by almost no one.
Delay.
Shen Yuan stepped forward.
The platform hummed.
An object moved toward him—not one of the seven.
Something beneath the platform surfaced.
A fractured mural shard, dull and incomplete.
The presence hesitated.
Shen Yuan bowed.
"I choose not to advance."
The hall fell silent.
Pressure mounted.
The presence pressed harder, probing, weighing.
Refusal was not expected.
But it was… allowed.
The shard hovered before him, then sank back beneath the platform.
The meaning shifted.
—Recorded.
—Deferred.
The pressure lifted.
Shen Yuan stepped back, heart pounding.
No power surged.
No realm advanced.
But something unseen loosened around his neck—
like a rope that had been slackened, not removed.
The remaining survivors hesitated.
Some chose.
Some vanished.
Some left parts of themselves behind.
When it ended, only three remained.
Shen Yuan.
A trembling alchemist apprentice who could no longer feel fear.
And Zhou Kai, broken and empty-eyed.
The platform dimmed.
The hall began to collapse—not violently, but decisively.
A new passage opened, leading upward.
An exit.
As they walked, Shen Yuan felt it clearly.
This ruin was not meant to create heroes.
It was meant to filter futures.
And somewhere far above, beyond this mountain, beyond this world—
Something ancient adjusted its expectations.
For the first time in a very long while,
It noticed a variable that had chosen to wait.