Even from fifty feet away, through a crowd of thousands, his gaze felt like a physical touch.

It was a stare devoid of his usual icy indifference; instead, it was brimming with an almost suffocating worry, laced with that possessive, dark heat that had flared in her bedroom hours prior.

’Don’t look at me like that,’ Ji’an panicked, instantly breaking eye contact and looking down at her boots. ’Everyone is going to notice! You’re the Ice Genius, you’re supposed to be looking at the horizon with disdain, not staring at a chef in Class 9 like I’m your lost puppy!’

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck. She aggressively kicked a small pebble.

Up on the terrace, Wangchen’s jaw tightened as she looked away. His hands gripped the white jade railing of the terrace.

He didn’t care about the thousands of people, and he didn’t care about the tournament either.

He only cared that in a few minutes, the person holding his sanity together was going to be thrown into a pocket dimension filled with monsters, and he wasn’t allowed to follow.

"Brother Xie!" a cheerful voice broke his concentration.

Gu Zhiwei bounded up to the railing, leaning over to wave enthusiastically at the sea of gray robes below. "Can you see Brother Lin? I’ve been trying to spot him, but there are so many people! I hope he is prepared. I wanted to give him a Sun-Fire Talisman, but I couldn’t find him this morning!"

Wangchen didn’t turn his head. He didn’t blink. "He does not need your talismans. He is perfectly capable."

"Of course he is!" Gu Zhiwei agreed brightly. "I know that Brother Lin is strong and capable of protecting himself, still! But the Lower Realm is dangerous. Oh! There he is!"

Gu Zhiwei waved frantically, his golden aura pulsing. "Brother Lin! Over here! Good luck!"

Down in the courtyard, Ji’an felt a hundred heads turn toward her as the Holy Son of the Sect shouted her name.

She cringed, raising a hand in a weak, half-hearted wave to acknowledge Gu Zhiwei, desperately trying to shrink behind Tang Bo’s lanky frame.

A few paces away on the terrace, Lu Jianheng snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Look at him cowering. The ’Flower Thief’ isn’t so brave when he doesn’t have a spatula and a bag of flour to hide behind. If he survives the Lower Realm, I will personally beat him in the sparring ring."

"Assuming he makes it that far," Wen Shiru commented smoothly, snapping his golden fan open. He observed the dynamic with calculating eyes, the way Gu Zhiwei cheered, the way Lu Jianheng glared down at Lin Ji’an, and most importantly, the way Xie Wangchen looked ready to jump off the terrace and slaughter anyone who stood too close to Lin Ji’an. "The Lower Realm is unforgiving. Survival requires more than just... unique culinary skills."

The dull roar of the crowd was suddenly silenced by a wave of oppressive, silencing Qi.

Floating down from the sky, landing gently in the center of the airspace between the upper terrace and the lower courtyard, was the Head Elder of the Discipline Hall.

He rode a massive, dual-winged Spirit Crane, his long white beard flowing in the wind.

"Silence, disciples!" The Elder’s voice boomed, amplified by a sonic array that made the words reverberate in everyone’s chest.

The entire plaza dropped to a knee in respect. Ji’an grumbled but followed suit, keeping her head bowed to avoid the laser-beam stare coming from the upper terrace.

"Today commences the triennial Grand Tournament of the Celestial Sword Sect!" the Elder announced. "The path of cultivation is paved with hardship, blood, and unbroken will. Today, we test that will."

He gestured to the elite disciples above. "For the Inner Sect disciples, from Classes 1 through 5, your trial is the Dao of Combat. You shall engage in martial sparring in the grand arena. The bracket has been drawn. Show us the purity of your techniques and the depth of your foundations."

The Inner Disciples puffed out their chests proudly. This was a clean, honorable tournament, a showcase of elite talent.

The Elder then turned his gaze down to the gray sea of the Outer Sect. His expression hardened.

"For the Outer Sect disciples, well, from Classes 6 through 9, your trial is the Dao of Survival."

"Dao of Survival, my ass, you clearly want these guys to go in and decrease the population of your sect!" Lin Ji’an already knew the real intention behind this arrangement, so she couldn’t help but mumble curses as she rolled her eyes.

He raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist, a dozen deacons stepped forward, carrying large, glowing chests.

"You shall not be fighting in a clean arena. You have not earned that right," the Elder said bluntly, causing a ripple of anxiety to wash through the Outer Disciples. "You shall be sent into the Myriad Illusions Lower Realm."

Gasps erupted around Ji’an.

"The Lower Realm?!" Tang Bo whispered, his face going pale. "That’s a fractured pocket dimension! It’s full of mutated beasts and toxic environments!"

"What about my skin regimen?!" Liu Liu squeaked in horror.

"Silence!" the Elder commanded. The deacons began moving through the crowd, handing out small, rectangular cards carved from green jade.

Ji’an took one as a deacon passed by. It was cool to the touch, humming with a spatial signature.

"This is your Lifeline Token," the Elder explained, his voice echoing ominously. "The Lower Realm is fraught with danger. Your objective is simple: Complete the survival quests assigned to your token, gather the required medicinal herbs and beast cores, and find the Exit Portal within seventy-two hours."

He paused, letting the weight of the time limit sink in. Three days in a hostile dimension.

"If you complete the quests and exit, you will pass Phase One. Those who pass will then participate in a sudden-death sparring bracket. The final victors of that bracket will be elevated to the Inner Sect."