He pressed his mouth together.
"step back," the guard said. Not unkind. The flat, functional authority of someone executing an assignment.
He tried to walk forward.
The guard's hand came to his chest.
Core Formation strength applied to a mortal chest was the specific, absolute, categorical difference between 'cultivator' and 'mortal' made physical in a flat, effortless, non-violent demonstration. He did not go forward. He went backward — not a throw, not a strike, the specific, non-aggressive, comprehensive redirect of a force differential applied to someone who had no counter-force available.
He stumbled.
He went down.
One knee, then the other, the involuntary, forward-pitch of a man who had received a redirect and had insufficient reserves to manage the pitch, and then his hands on the path outside the gate and the specific, granular, familiar sensation of the territory's ground under his palms.
He coughed.
