Darkness. Not the kind that comes when you close your eyes to sleep, but a thick, suffocating weight that tasted like copper and ozone.
Xiao Yan was drifting. His internal spirit sea—usually a roaring storm of thunder and frost—was a dry, cracked wasteland. Using the Sky Mjolnir hadn't just tapped him out; it had scorched his meridians. Every breath felt like inhaling shards of hot glass.
[Master, stay with me. Don't let your consciousness slip into the void,] Michael's voice echoed. It sounded tinny and far away, like he was speaking through a long metal pipe. [The 31st Gate is a mental filter. You broke the physical locks on the stairs, but the 'Sigh' arrays were designed to tear your mind open. Your old ghosts are coming out.]
Suddenly, the blackness ripped apart.
Xiao Yan wasn't in the Academy anymore. He was standing in the middle of the Xiao Clan courtyard back in the Nansha Empire. But the sky was a bruised, sickly purple, and the ground was littered with the frozen, stiff bodies of his kinsmen. In the center of the yard stood a shadow. It held a jagged blade against his mother's throat.
"You couldn't save them then," the shadow hissed. Its voice shifted, sounding like a distorted version of Zhao Kui. "And you won't save the girl in the tower now. You're just a kid playing with gods' toys, Xiao Yan."
He tried to move, but his legs felt like they were set in concrete. He tried to summon the Azure Dragon, but all he got was a pathetic spark of static that died before it left his fingertips.
"I'm not... that helpless boy anymore," Xiao Yan growled, his teeth bared.
"Aren't you?" the shadow laughed, stepping closer. "Look at your hands. You're still covered in the blood of the people you failed."
Xiao Yan looked down. His hands were stained a deep, wet red. But as the blood dripped onto the snow, it didn't soak in. It froze. His Frozen Origin Physique wasn't waiting for a command—it was reacting to his pure, unadulterated rage. The courtyard began to crack under a layer of jagged frost.
"I don't need to save the past," Xiao Yan whispered, his left eye beginning to burn with a cold, golden light. "I just need to burn the bridge behind me."
CRACK.
The Recovery Ward: 31st Gate
Xiao Yan's eyes snapped open. He bolted upright, his lungs burning as he gasped for air.
"Whoa! Easy, Boss! You're going to rip the needles out!"
Xiao Yan blinked, his vision blurry and swimming. The room was bright—too bright—and smelled of crushed herbs and bitter medicine. Ma Qingya was hovering over him, her Sky-Piercing Fan tucked into her belt as she reached for a series of glowing needles stuck into his shoulder.
In the corner, silhouetted against the afternoon light, Ling Xuelian stood by the window. Her wings shimmered softly, casting long, elegant shadows across the floor. She was holding a small jade bowl that smelled like snow and honey.
"Where...?" Xiao Yan's voice was a wreck. His throat felt like he'd been swallowing sand.
"The 31st Gate Infirmary," Qingya said, her voice a mix of a lecture and a sigh of relief. "You've been out for two days. You walked up those stairs, collapsed, and decided to play dead for a while. Yanlin is outside the door—he hasn't moved or slept since we brought you in."
"Two days?" Xiao Yan tried to lift his right arm. It was wrapped tight in silver silk. The bone felt mended, but the limb felt like it was made of lead.
"The recoil did more than break the bone," Xuelian said, walking over. She sat on the edge of the bed, her expression unreadable, but her eyes were tired. "It caused a Spirit-Shock. Your meridians are vibrating at a frequency your body can't handle. If I hadn't used the Healing Codex to dampen the resonance, you would have literally shaken yourself apart from the inside out."
She handed him the bowl. "Drink. It's Lotus-Dragon Marrow. It'll stop the shaking."
Xiao Yan took the bowl, his fingers brushing hers. He felt a jolt—not of lightning, but a strange, ancient thrum that made his hair stand on end.
"The 31st Gate is about the soul," Xuelian continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "It doesn't care how hard you can punch. It cares about how much your spirit can take before it snaps. The Elders are already talking about your 'stunt' with the Mjolnir. They want to move you to an isolation ward for 'observation.'"
"Observation? You mean they want to see what makes me tick before they cut it out," Xiao Yan spat, handing the bowl back.
"I won't let them move you," Xuelian said firmly. "I've officially listed you as my primary patient. As long as you're 'unstable,' they can't touch you without my signature. But Xiao Yan... the Trial of the Mirror of Thousand Regrets starts in three days. You aren't ready."
"The Mirror?" Ma Qingya's face went pale. "But that's a Soul Path trial! Boss is a Body and Spirit cultivator. His soul is his weakest link!"
[She's right,] Michael chimed in. [Your Soul Path is still at the Mortal Stage. If you step into that Mirror, the array will chew on your trauma like a dog with a bone. You'll be trapped in that nightmare I just pulled you out of... and this time, I won't be able to wake you up.]
Xiao Yan looked at his hands. They weren't bloody anymore, but they were trembling. "How do I fix it? I can't grow a soul in three days."
"You don't," Xuelian said, standing up and looking at the door to make sure no one was listening. "But there is a place. Below this gate, there's a Soul-Nourishing Spring. It's forbidden for External disciples, but you're my patient. I can take you there under the guise of 'hydrotherapy'."
"Why?" Xiao Yan's eyes narrowed. "You're a Ling. Helping a 'variable' like me is social suicide. What's the catch?"
Xuelian turned to the window, her gaze drifting up toward the Immortal Hall where Yan Bingxue was being held.
"Because the mountain is getting colder, Xiao Yan," she whispered. "And I have a feeling you're the only fire that won't go out when the blizzard finally hits."
The Shadows Stir
While Xuelian plotted, the 31st Gate was far from quiet.
In a windowless meditation chamber, Ling Feng knelt on the cold stone. Before him sat a man so thin and gaunt his skin looked like yellowed parchment. This was the Gate Elder, a man who had spent three centuries manipulating the souls of others.
"He survived the stairs, Elder," Ling Feng hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "Xuelian is hiding him in the infirmary. If he clears the Mirror, he'll be at the 30th Gate before the month is out."
The Elder didn't open his eyes. He tapped a long, black fingernail against a jade tablet. "The Mirror doesn't care about protectors, Ling Feng. It only cares about the rot inside a man's heart. And that boy... he is full of it."
The Elder's mouth twisted into a dry, mirthless smile.
"Let him go to the Spring. Let him think he's getting stronger. I will personally 'calibrate' the Mirror for our guest. The higher they climb, the louder they scream when they finally hit the bottom."
To be continued!!!