The trial had sought to break him, to strip him of everything and see what remained. And what remained was Kael—bloodied, battered, but standing tall, a cultivator forged in the crucible of the pagoda.
The light above pulsed once more, and a doorway appeared, its edges shimmering with white radiance, a path to whatever lay beyond. Kael took a step toward it, his body protesting but his spirit unbowed. The trial was over, but the path continued, and he would walk it, no matter the cost.
*****
The blinding light of teleportation faded, and Kael's boots struck solid ground, the impact jarring his already battered body. He stood on a narrow stone bridge, its surface worn smooth by time, stretching into an endless void that seemed to swallow all sense of direction.
No walls enclosed him, no sky arched above—only swirling clouds of grey mist churned on all sides, a frozen storm that pulsed with an eerie, otherworldly life.
