The moment Lu Haotian stepped through the door, everything disappeared.
No ground.
No sky.
Just white.
Endless white and a dense amount of qi.
He sucked in a sharp breath—and froze.
He wasn't falling.
His feet felt nothing beneath them, yet his body stayed upright, as if the space itself refused to let him move.
"…If i should stay here for a year i would definitely reach the 9th layer," he whispered.
His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Too loud. Too fast.
Slowly, lights began to appear around him. Small drifting dots, weak and uneven. Brown. Blue. White. Red. Green. They floated without order, some close, some far, all of them watching him in silence.
Lu Haotian's throat went dry.
"Where am… I?" he asked quietly.
The word scared him more once it left his mouth.
He clenched his fists and felt it immediately—the sting in his palm.
Pain.
Real pain.
"No," he breathed.
Then what…?
Before he could think further, something cold swept through him.
Not wind.
Not force.
Something watching.
His body stiffened as the presence passed through him layer by layer, deeper than flesh, deeper than bone. He felt exposed in a way he never had before, like every secret inside him had been dragged into the open.
His stomach twisted.
Something inside him stirred.
Hard.
His dantian reacted violently, and Lu Haotian gasped.
Currents tangled inside him—five of them. Weak. Thin. Ugly. None of them listening. None of them willing to yield.
"So… that's it?" he murmured bitterly. "That's what I have?"
The pressure answered.
"Five-element mixed mortal-grade spirit roots detected."
His chest tightened.
Mortal-grade.
Mixed.
The words hit harder than any strike.
"…You don't have to say it out loud you know," he muttered.
Then came the next command.
"Harmonize."
Lu Haotian blinked. "Harmonize what?"
The world answered by taking everything away.
The floating lights vanished.
The feeling of qi in the air collapsed instantly.
Lu Haotian inhaled sharply—and felt nothing enter his body.
"What?" Panic surged. "No—wait—!"
He reached out instinctively, trying to draw qi like he always did.
Nothing came.
Only the thin, unstable qi inside him remained.
His breathing turned uneven.
"…You're joking," he whispered. "You're actually joking, right?"
Silence.
The white space didn't change.
The pressure didn't lift.
"I can't cultivate like this," he said, louder now. "There's nothing here!"
Still nothing.
Fear crawled up his spine.
"What if I can't leave?" The thought slipped out before he could stop it. "What if I'm stuck here?"
His hands trembled.
For a long moment, he just stood there, breathing too fast, eyes darting uselessly across endless white.
"…Damn it," he said hoarsely.
With nowhere else to go, he sat down. The movement felt wrong without a floor, but his body accepted it anyway.
"This is stupid," he muttered. "This is really stupid."
He hesitated.
Then closed his eyes.
The instant he tried to move his qi—
Pain exploded.
Fire qi surged forward violently, scorching his meridians. Earth qi locked everything in place. Metal qi sliced through his chest like knives. Water qi scattered uselessly. Wind qi rushed ahead and tore everything apart.
"Ghk—!"
He folded forward, coughing hard as blood touched his lips.
His breathing broke completely.
"…Again," he rasped.
He forced himself upright and tried.
Failed.
Again.
Failed harder.
Each attempt hurt more than the last. Sometimes the pain struck suddenly. Sometimes it built slowly until his vision blurred.
He lost count of how many times he collapsed.
Lost count of how long he stayed there, gasping, shaking, wondering if the next try would kill him.
At one point, frustration burst out of him.
"Why won't you work?!" he shouted into the empty space. "I'm doing it right—aren't I?!"
No answer.
The silence felt worse than being mocked.
Eventually, his anger burned itself out, leaving only exhaustion.
"This… this makes no sense," he muttered weakly.
So he stopped trying to force everything.
He moved just one piece.
Earth qi barely responded—heavy, slow, stubborn.
"…You're really annoying," he sighed.
Metal qi followed—sharp, painful, cutting too deep.
"Ow—stop."
Water drifted away too easily.
Fire flared up the moment he touched it.
Wind refused to stay at all.
Lu Haotian slumped, shoulders shaking.
"They're all useless," he murmured, voice tight. "Just like this stupid root."
The words stung as soon as he said them.
After a long while, he opened his eyes and stared into nothing.
"…No," he said quietly. "That's not it."
His voice was small. Unsure.
"They're not useless," he corrected himself. "They're just… all over the place."
He swallowed.
"…So am I.".
Only understanding earned through failure.
Each collapse taught him something new.
Forcing fire to submit destabilized metal.
Allowing water too much freedom weakened earth's anchor.
Binding wind too tightly caused violent recoil.
Gradually, Lu Haotian stopped viewing them as power—and began viewing them as personalities.
"They don't oppose each other," he murmured hoarsely after yet another failed attempt.
"They oppose imbalance."
Weeks passed.
His body bore the cost. His meridians throbbed constantly. His mind was exhausted, forced into perfect awareness during every circulation attempt. Several times, the strain pushed him to the edge of unconsciousness.
Yet the slab did nothing.
No guidance.
No mercy.
Only the requirement remained.
Harmonize.
Lu Haotian clenched his fists.
"I won't brute-force this," he whispered. "I'll listen."
He exhaled slowly.
And tried again.