Blood Stains the Path Forward
"A blade that hesitates is no blade at all. To walk this path, one must carve their destiny with steel and will."
The cavern pulsed with the scent of death.
Xian Ren did not linger.
The corpse at his feet had long since ceased to matter.
Ahead, the path twisted into an abyss of shadow. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like jagged fangs, and the air hummed with unseen malice.
He stepped forward, his every motion measured, his grip on the Forsaken Blade unwavering.
The darkness breathed.
And then—
BOOM!
A sudden explosion of movement.
From the cavern walls, figures emerged—thin, gaunt, their eyes glowing like embers in the night.
More fallen disciples.
Once proud cultivators, now reduced to nothing more than desperate specters of their former selves.
Their bodies were lean, sinewy, driven by an endless hunger.
Their weapons were rusted, chipped—yet deadly in their grasp.
They did not speak.
They only attacked.
SHING!
A blade whistled toward Xian Ren's temple.
He ducked—
Rolled—
And countered with a precise strike to the assailant's ribs.
The man staggered, coughing blood.
Xian Ren did not hesitate.
With a sharp twist of his wrist, he drove his sword through the man's throat.
A gurgled gasp.
Then silence.
The others did not stop.
They swarmed.
Their weapons clashed like a symphony of madness, each strike fueled by desperation, each movement born from the agony of prolonged suffering.
Xian Ren moved like flowing water.
A pivot.
A slash.
A severed arm.
A parry.
A thrust.
A pierced heart.
The battle became a dance—one he performed with brutal efficiency.
Within moments, five bodies lay still.
Their blood pooled at his feet, soaking into the cold earth.
Stillness.
A deep exhale.
He wiped his blade clean against his sleeve, his crimson-stained reflection staring back at him.
These men…
Once, they had been like him.
Dreaming. Struggling. Clawing their way toward a future that never came.
Was this his fate as well?
Would he, too, one day become nothing more than a forgotten wraith in the depths of this abyss?
His grip tightened.
No.
He was not them.
He would never be them.
He turned away, stepping over the fallen.
There was no use mourning the dead.
He still had to survive.
The cavern stretched deeper.
The further he walked, the heavier the air became.
A suffocating pressure pressed against his lungs, thick with a sinister presence.
Then, ahead—
A gate.
Massive. Ancient. Constructed of black stone, adorned with carvings of celestial beasts locked in eternal combat.
The entrance to the second trial.
As he approached, a voice rumbled from beyond the gate.
"Only the worthy may step forward. Show your proof of passage."
Xian Ren did not hesitate.
He raised his sword.
The Forsaken Blade gleamed under the dim glow of the cavern.
The gate trembled.
Then, with a deafening groan, it began to open.
Beyond it, a staircase spiraled downward—deeper into the abyss.
A single phrase was inscribed on the arch above:
"Abandon hope, all who enter."
Xian Ren exhaled.
He stepped forward.
And the darkness swallowed him whole.