Xiao Tian plunged into the cold, silent lake once more.
The water pressed against his body like a thousand invisible hands. The deeper he swam, the darker it became, until even the glow of the surface was swallowed whole. He pushed onward, arms slicing through the depths with powerful strokes honed over nearly a decade of relentless training.
But then—they came.
Dark, distorted figures began to materialize from the abyss, their shapes grotesquely twisted and unnaturally elongated. Ghostly hands, claw-like and skeletal, reached out from the darkness with ragged fingernails, eager to snatch at his flesh. They clutched at his arms, legs, and robes with unnatural strength, their grip chillingly cold, freezing him to the bone.
Their faces emerged next—horrific visages of anguish, mouths agape in endless, silent screams. Hollow eyes stared emptily yet accusingly, filled with agony and despair. Black, viscous tendrils streamed from their gaping mouths, writhing as if alive, reaching out toward him, eager to wrap him in their shadowy embrace.
They were the tormented remnants of those who had failed—the spirits of long-lost disciples who had succumbed to despair, now eternally bound to the watery darkness, determined to drag others down to join their ceaseless suffering.
Xiao Tian thrashed violently, panic rising like bile in his throat. "Let go of me… I'm not like you!" he screamed, voice muted by the oppressive water.
The spirits did not reply. Instead, their grasp tightened, pulling him deeper into the darkness.
His lungs screamed for air. Panic turned to terror. His strength ebbed rapidly.
With one last desperate motion, Xiao Tian kicked toward the surface.
He broke through with a gasp, coughing and wheezing, eyes wild with exhaustion. He floated on his back, the sky spinning above him, heart pounding like a war drum.
Elsewhere…
In the heart of the Tianlong Province, preparations for the Grand Martial Tournament were in full swing. The arena, larger and grander than in previous years, was adorned magnificently. Brilliant silk banners fluttered from towering pillars etched with golden dragons, and lanterns in myriad colors hung along the pathways, casting vibrant lights that danced in the breeze. The stage itself, a massive circular platform of polished marble, gleamed under the sun, bordered by intricate carvings of legendary battles.
Within a training courtyard nearby, two tournament assistants conversed in hushed tones.
"Did you hear? They've changed the rules this year," one said.
"What do you mean?"
"They're allowing unaffiliated contestants. You don't have to be part of any sect to participate."
"What? That's unheard of!"
The news spread like wildfire. Some praised the decision—it would uncover hidden talents. Others scoffed, fearing chaos and imbalance.
But one thing was certain—the tournament would be more unpredictable than ever.
Back at the Lake…
Nearly a month passed.
Every day, Xiao Tian trained. Every day, he dived into the dark. The fear never vanished, but his body slowly adapted. His tolerance increased. His resolve hardened.
He no longer flinched at the icy grip of the spirits. He had learned to navigate their realm—if not with ease, then with determination.
Today was no different.
He stood at the edge of the water, bare-chested, his lean body bearing the markings of years of training. The strange glowing patterns on his right arm and shoulder—once bright and erratic—now shimmered faintly, as if resting in harmony with his body.
"Just a little further today," he whispered to himself.
He dove.
Down. Down. Down.
The water swallowed him again. The spirits returned, but their hold weakened—his mind no longer wavered in their presence.
"I've made it this far… I won't stop now."
The pressure intensified. His vision blurred. Breath grew thin.
He clenched his fists.
"I can't fail. I won't!"
But his body betrayed him. The cold crept into his bones. His consciousness flickered. He was seconds away from blacking out.
Then—
A sudden pulse surged from his right arm. The glowing circuits blazed to life, searing bright blue under the water.
A voice thundered in his mind:
"You cannot die here."
Clarity returned like lightning through a storm.
With a final stroke, he propelled himself deeper—beyond what he thought possible.
And there, at the very bottom of the lake, something stirred.
A faint glow peeked from beneath a rock ledge. Xiao Tian approached.
A cave.
Its mouth was an astonishing sight—like a celestial gateway shimmering with golden radiance. The ethereal light illuminated a path, a narrow road paved with gleaming stones, stretching invitingly toward an ornate, majestic door carved with patterns that seemed to shift and flow like water itself.
He entered.
What lay beyond... defied imagination.