The Path of Endurance

The chamber fell silent as Chen Yu opened his eyes.

The voice of the Guardian echoed calmly through the darkness.

"You have stepped onto the Path of Endurance."

"This trial does not test your strength alone. It tests your ability to carry weight. To endure suffering. To walk when your body screams for rest."

Chen Yu rose slowly, his breath still sharp from the shock of being transported here.

In the center of the stone platform, a heavy iron chain slowly rose from the ground—its thick links black with age, covered in cracks and ancient markings. Dust slipped from its surface as it coiled around itself like a slumbering beast.

The Guardian's voice deepened.

"Lift it."

"Carry it."

"Walk until you can walk no more."

Chen Yu stared at the chain.

His thin arms. His bruised body.

A village boy who had never trained, who had never cultivated.

The chain was heavier than he was. Just touching it might crush him.

But his feet did not retreat.

His fingers gripped the first iron link, and the moment his skin met the cold metal—the weight crashed down onto his shoulders like a mountain.

His knees buckled. His breath choked in his throat. His vision blurred from the pressure.

His legs shook violently. His back screamed under the crushing force.

Impossible. This is impossible.

But Chen Yu gritted his teeth. He forced his trembling legs to straighten. His fingers dug deep into the iron. His body wanted to collapse.

Step.

He moved.

The iron chain scraped against the stone behind him, each link dragging, resisting, like it wanted to pull him backward.

The platform stretched forward into an endless stone path. There was no end in sight.

Step. Step. Step.

Each step felt heavier. The chain's weight seemed to grow, digging deeper into his flesh, cutting into his shoulders until his skin split and blood dripped onto the path.

His breathing turned rough. His vision darkened.

His legs trembled. His body staggered. The iron chain devoured his strength.

But Chen Yu did not stop.

When his legs buckled, when his knees slammed into the ground, when the weight drove him to collapse—he pushed himself back up. Again. And again. And again.

His muscles tore. His body ached. His mind whispered at him to stop.

"No one is watching. No one would blame you."

"Just drop it. Just rest."

But Chen Yu's fists tightened. His lips twisted into a stubborn, bloody smile.

He kept walking.

Time lost all meaning. His skin blistered. His arms went numb.

But his feet never stopped moving.

When his knees shattered, he crawled.

When his shoulders bled, he clenched his teeth and dragged the chain forward.

When his arms failed him, he forced his weight against the chain and shoved it forward with his entire body.

He didn't know how long he walked.

Only that he did not stop.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Finally, a faint golden archway appeared in the distance, its light piercing the dark.

His body screamed for him to collapse.

But Chen Yu's feet kept moving—dragging the iron chain, inch by inch, until he crossed the threshold.

The chain vanished. The weight lifted. His legs finally gave out, and his body collapsed onto the stone.

The Guardian's voice returned, steady but no longer cold.

"You have endured. The burden could not crush you. The weight could not break you."

Chen Yu lay on the ground, his breath ragged, his muscles trembling, his arms limp at his sides.

But his eyes—they still burned.

"What now?" His voice was low, his throat dry, but it did not shake.

"Rest," the Guardian said. "You have passed the first trial. But your path is long. The next trial awaits."

Chen Yu's eyes slowly closed, his body sinking into exhausted sleep, but the fire in his chest did not fade.