The grand entrance of the Heavenly Pavilion loomed before her, its towering pillars carved with ancient runes. Every step she took onto the polished stone path felt heavier, as though the very air here rejected outsiders.
The man leading her walked in silence, his robe flowing like mist, his presence exuding an authority that could not be questioned. He did not look back, nor did he offer a word of comfort or instruction.
She knew this was yet another test.
She held her son close, steadying her breath as she followed.
Inside the pavilion's outer courtyard, a gathering of figures awaited them. Clad in white and silver robes, they stood in a semi-circle, their expressions unreadable. These were no ordinary disciples—they were the elders of the Heavenly Pavilion.
At the center stood a man whose aura was different from the rest. His posture was relaxed, his hands folded behind his back, yet the mere sight of him sent a cold shiver through her spine. His piercing gaze met hers, and in that moment, she understood.
This was the true gatekeeper of the Heavenly Pavilion.
The man who had brought her here stepped aside and spoke.
"She passed the Mist Trial."
The gathered elders exchanged glances, some with curiosity, others with skepticism.
The gatekeeper studied her with a quiet intensity before his eyes flickered to the child in her arms.
"This is the one you seek aid for?"
She nodded, her grip tightening protectively. "Yes."
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, in a voice as calm as a still lake, he spoke:
"Show me why I should care."
The challenge was clear.
Before she could respond, a sudden force struck her chest.
She gasped, her vision blurring as an unseen power lifted her from the ground. It wasn't physical, yet it felt like an invisible hand was crushing her ribs, stealing the air from her lungs.
She fell to one knee, clutching her child tightly.
But she did not scream.
She did not break.
The pressure increased, grinding down on her bones. It was different from the Mist Trial—this was not an illusion. This was raw, unfiltered power meant to test her limits.
The elders watched in silence, their expressions giving nothing away.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to remain steady.
Her mind raced. What was the gatekeeper testing? Her endurance? Her will?
Or was this a message?
A reminder that she was nothing in the eyes of the Heavenly Pavilion?
No.
She had come too far.
She refused to be cast aside.
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to speak, her voice unwavering.
"My son… is not ordinary."
The gatekeeper raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
She could barely breathe under the crushing weight, but she managed to pull back the cloth that covered her child's face.
For the first time, the elders reacted.
Gasps rippled through them, their eyes widening.
The gatekeeper took a step closer, his gaze locking onto the boy's face.
For a brief moment, the suffocating pressure disappeared.
"He has no dantian."
It was not a question—it was a fact.
A stunned silence filled the courtyard.
A martial artist without a dantian was worthless, crippled from birth. No one without a dantian could cultivate, let alone survive in a world ruled by martial strength.
And yet—
The child in her arms breathed with perfect ease, his small form radiating a strange, unexplainable presence.
The gatekeeper's eyes narrowed, his interest now undeniable.
"This boy should not be alive," one of the elders murmured. "Without a dantian, how does his body function?"
"He absorbs qi unconsciously," another elder observed. "But… it is not through any known method."
The gatekeeper remained silent for a long time.
Then, finally, he spoke.
"He will be tested."
She tensed. "Tested how?"
The gatekeeper's gaze met hers, and for the first time, his voice carried something close to amusement.
"If he is truly special, he will survive."
Her blood ran cold.
She had expected resistance, but to treat her son's survival as a test?
"No," she said firmly.
The elders stirred at her defiance, but she did not back down.
The gatekeeper tilted his head. "No?"
"I will not let you use him as an experiment."
Silence.
Then, the gatekeeper chuckled.
"You misunderstand," he said. "No one will harm the boy. But if he is meant to survive in this world, then he must prove it—just as you did."
She hesitated.
She did not trust them.
But she knew she had no other choice.
If she walked away now, her son would remain an anomaly, a mystery left unsolved.
If she stayed…
She could learn the truth.
Taking a deep breath, she looked into the gatekeeper's eyes and gave her answer.
"Then test him."
A small smile played at the corner of the gatekeeper's lips.
"Very well."
With a wave of his hand, the doors to the inner pavilion swung open.
And the real trial began.