By the third day, Arata's legs felt like stone.
The road twisted upward into a mountain range shrouded in mist. The trees here were not twisted like those in the lowlands but tall, ancient, and silent, their roots tangled like veins. The air was sharper, thinner, carrying a faint hum of energy that made his skin prickle.
The cultivators rode with ease, unbothered. Arata dragged himself behind them, every step a battle.
Finally, the path opened onto a vast clearing.
And there it was.
The sect.
Carved into the mountainside, its gates towered above like the jaws of a slumbering beast. Two massive statues of armored warriors flanked the entrance, their eyes glowing faintly with inscriptions. Beyond the gates, Arata glimpsed towering pagodas rising through the mist, their roofs gilded with gold that shimmered in the morning light.
Even from here, he could feel it—the sheer weight of power radiating from within.
The villagers had lived in fear. The forest had been deadly. But this place… this was different. This was a world where gods walked among men.
The cultivators dismounted, their horses led away by silent disciples in plain gray robes. The tall leader turned to Arata.
"Welcome to the Black Lotus Sect."
Arata swallowed hard. So this is it. My next cage.
The gates creaked open, revealing a vast courtyard. Disciples in black robes trained in rows, their movements sharp, synchronized. Blades flashed, qi techniques painted arcs of light across the training grounds. The air vibrated with energy.
As Arata stepped inside, dozens of eyes turned toward him. Some were curious. Most were dismissive.
"A mortal?" one disciple whispered. "Brought by Envoys? Why?" another scoffed. "He won't last a day."
Arata's jaw tightened. Their words stung, but he forced himself to keep walking.
The leader led him to a smaller courtyard where a stone platform stood, etched with runes that glowed faintly.
"This is the Testing Ground," the leader said. His voice carried the weight of finality. "Every candidate must undergo it. Pass, and you may stay within the sect as an outer disciple. Fail…" He smirked faintly. "…and the mountain will claim you."
Arata's heart thumped. A test… of course. The System wouldn't let me slide through.
The cultivators stepped aside. Disciples gathered, murmuring. Arata stood alone on the stone platform, the runes beneath him pulsing.
The System chimed:
[New Mission: Survive the Trial of the Gate.] [Objective: Withstand the illusions of fear for 10 minutes.] [Reward: +5 Stat Points.] [Failure: Death.]
Arata's throat went dry. Illusions of fear?
The runes flared. The world dissolved.
Suddenly, he was back in the ruined hut of the village. But this time, dozens of ghouls surrounded him. Their claws scraped against the walls, their hollow eyes locked on him.
He gripped his wooden shard, but it felt heavy, brittle. His legs refused to move.
The ghouls lunged.
This isn't real. It's an illusion.
But the pain was real when claws raked across his chest. His blood splattered the floor.
Arata screamed.
The System's voice cut through the chaos.
[Time Remaining: 9:45.]
Nine minutes left. He had to endure.
The scene shifted. He was back in his old apartment. The smell of instant noodles lingered, the glow of his computer screen dim. But his body was cold, stiff. He was lying in bed, eyes staring at the ceiling.
Dead. Forgotten. Alone.
"No…" His voice cracked. "Not again…"
The System chimed.
[Time Remaining: 6:12.]
Arata clutched his head. The illusions clawed at his mind, dragging him between worlds of death and despair. The wolves, the ghouls, the loneliness of his past life—it all came crashing down.
He fell to his knees.
But then—
A memory surfaced. The moment he stabbed the Hunger Beast. The moment he had endured the cultivator's crushing aura. The villagers' fearful eyes as they watched him fight.
He had survived. Again and again.
He forced his head up, eyes blazing. "I'm not the same man who died in that bed. Not anymore."
The ghouls shrieked, closing in.
He raised his shard, roaring back at them.
The illusions flickered. The world cracked.
When the light returned, Arata was on his knees on the stone platform, drenched in sweat. His chest heaved, but he was alive.
The runes dimmed.
The leader studied him with narrowed eyes. The young woman smirked. The older man nodded faintly.
Around them, disciples whispered in shock.
"He… survived it?" "With no cultivation?" "Impossible…"
The System's screen glowed faintly before Arata's eyes.
[Mission Complete.] [Reward: +5 Stat Points.] [New Path Unlocked: Eligibility for Cultivation.]
Arata collapsed fully, gasping for air. His vision blurred, but a fierce grin tugged at his lips.
I made it. I won.
But deep down, he knew.
This was only the first step.