The moment Li Chen stepped through the portal, the world came apart.
Not violently—there was no explosion or roaring turbulence—but in the quiet, disorienting manner of space folding in on itself. Colors stretched thin, bending like silk under invisible hands, while direction lost all meaning. Up and down became suggestions rather than truths.
Li Chen did not resist.
Resisting unknown spatial transitions was a good way to die.
He relaxed his muscles, stabilized his breathing, and circulated Silent Breath, allowing his qi to thin until it matched the flow of the passage itself. His presence dulled, blending into the spatial current like dust carried by the wind.
A heartbeat later, his feet touched solid ground.
Cold.
Li Chen opened his eyes.
He stood upon a vast obsidian platform suspended in open air. Beneath it, endless clouds churned slowly, glowing faintly with spiritual light, as though an ocean of mist lay beneath the world. Above, the sky was neither blue nor night-black but a deep jade hue, heavy with ancient qi that pressed gently against the senses.
The Realm of Hidden Origins.
Li Chen did not move immediately.
Instead, he remained still, letting his senses stretch outward in cautious threads. The pressure was there—subtle, pervasive—but not hostile. It was not trying to crush him.
It was observing.
So it truly is alive, Li Chen thought.
Around him, space rippled again and again as other core disciples arrived. Some landed smoothly, faces composed. Others stumbled, momentarily disoriented by the spatial transfer. A few reacted instinctively, releasing their auras as though to assert dominance over the unknown realm.
Li Chen felt a faint tightening in his chest.
Don't.
As if responding to those very thoughts, the clouds below surged upward slightly. Pale runes flickered briefly in the air, and the ambient pressure increased just enough to make several disciples frown.
Not punishment.
A warning.
Li Chen quietly adjusted his circulation, folding his qi inward until it matched the realm's natural rhythm. His presence blurred, becoming indistinct—like a stone resting at the bottom of a slow-moving river.
The pressure around him eased almost immediately.
Good.
A voice echoed across the platform, transmitted through a distant formation beyond the realm itself. It was ancient, steady, and entirely devoid of emotion.
"The Realm of Hidden Origins will remain open for two months. During this time, all participants may explore freely. Survival is mandatory. Rewards will be granted according to performance."
Two months.
The words sent a subtle ripple through the gathered disciples. Some eyes brightened with excitement. Others darkened with unease.
Li Chen felt neither.
Two months meant opportunity—but it also meant prolonged danger.
Long enough for people to get careless, he thought. Long enough for grudges to form. Long enough for monsters to emerge.
The obsidian platform trembled.
Without further warning, deep cracks spread across its surface, branching outward like a spiderweb. With a low, resonant hum, the platform split into dozens of floating paths, each leading into a different region of the realm.
Mountain ranges wreathed in lightning.
Forests drowned in mist.
Ancient ruins half-buried in earth.
Valleys where space itself seemed unstable.
The core disciples moved at once.
Some quickly formed groups, exchanging brief glances and silent agreements. Others surged forward alone, ambition burning in their eyes.
Li Chen stayed where he was.
Only after most of the disciples had chosen their paths did he move—and even then, he selected the least remarkable route available: a narrow stone bridge leading toward a fog-shrouded forest.
No visible treasures.
No obvious danger.
No dramatic terrain.
Which means it's probably lethal, Li Chen concluded.
The moment he stepped onto the bridge, the platform behind him dissolved soundlessly, cutting off any possibility of retreat.
Li Chen swallowed.
I hate realms like this.
The forest greeted him with oppressive silence.
Towering trees twisted skyward, their bark etched with ancient patterns worn smooth by time. Pale mist drifted between the trunks, carrying unstable threads of spiritual qi that shifted unpredictably.
Li Chen slowed his pace, each step deliberate.
Then—
The ground gave way.
Li Chen reacted without thinking.
He twisted sideways, activating Shadow Step at the exact instant the earth beneath his original position collapsed into a bottomless void. Stone, roots, and mist vanished without sound, swallowed by an abyss that seemed to consume even light.
Li Chen landed lightly several paces away, heart hammering against his ribs.
"…That was close," he muttered, voice barely audible.
He crouched and studied the pit.
No echo.
No visible bottom.
A spatial devourer.
One careless step and he would not have died.
He would have been erased.
So this is how the realm filters the reckless, Li Chen realized grimly.
He continued deeper into the forest, senses stretched taut, mind razor-focused.
Ahead, a ruined stone archway emerged from the roots of a massive tree. Faint spiritual fluctuations radiated from it—complex, layered, and deliberately concealed.
Li Chen stopped.
Treasure?
Trap?
Yes.
He observed carefully, tracing the flow of qi. Illusion formation. Suppression formation. And beneath them…
Displacement.
Step wrong, Li Chen assessed, and you won't die. You'll simply be sent somewhere worse.
A thin smile touched his lips.
"Whoever designed this realm," he murmured, "was cruel in a very thorough way."
Rather than approach the arch, Li Chen sat down cross-legged several paces away.
He closed his eyes.
Sword intent stirred instinctively—only to be crushed and sealed back into silence. This was not the time for brilliance.
This was a place for patience.
Minutes stretched into half an hour as Li Chen unraveled the formation's logic through comprehension alone. When he finally stood, he walked—not toward the arch, but beside it.
At a precise angle, with a precise step, he slipped through a blind spot the formation had never accounted for.
Nothing happened.
No trap.
No alarm.
Li Chen exhaled slowly.
"…Still alive."
He allowed himself a brief, exhausted smile.
Xu Ming, he thought suddenly. Please continue cultivating. Don't rush. Don't attract attention.
The forest ahead grew darker, the mist thicker.
This was only the outermost layer of the Realm of Hidden Origins.
And Li Chen already understood one undeniable truth—
This realm was not meant for heroes.
It was meant for those who knew how to stay alive for two long months.