The Elder’s eyes narrowed. "However... the Lower Realm is lethal. If you face certain death, you must channel your Qi into the Lifeline Token and shatter it. It will instantly teleport you back to this plaza."

He leaned forward on his crane. "But be warned. Shattering your token means immediate forfeiture. You fail the tournament, and you will remain an Outer Disciple until the next cycle. Choose wisely between your pride and your life."

Ji’an flipped the jade card in her hand. ’Classic Battle Royale mechanics,’ she analyzed. ’Loot, survive, and extract. Good thing I packed my entire pantry into my spatial bag. Three days of camping? I can make a Michelin-star menu out of mutated beasts.’

"Now," the Elder raised both hands toward the sky. "Prepare yourselves! Open the Gate!"

At the far end of the courtyard, four high-level array masters stepped forward. They began to chant, weaving their hands in complex mudras.

The air in the center of the courtyard began to warp and distort. A low, grinding sound, like stones grinding against each other, filled the air.

A pinpoint of swirling, purple-black light appeared. Within seconds, it expanded outward, tearing a hole in the fabric of reality.

The portal was massive, easily thirty feet tall, rotating like a violent galaxy. The smell of ozone, rotting leaves, and strange, alien spices wafted out of the tear.

"The Myriad Illusions Lower Realm is open!" the Elder shouted. "Outer Disciples, enter!"

Pandemonium broke out. The braver disciples from Class 6 charged forward, drawing their cheap iron swords, eager to get a head start on the loot.

Others hesitated, staring at the swirling abyss with trembling knees.

"Boss!" Tang Bo grabbed Ji’an’s robe sleeve. "Are we going in together? Please say we’re going in together! I’ll carry your spatula! I’ll peel your garlic! Just don’t leave me!"

"The portal randomizes entry locations, Tang Bo," Ji’an sighed, gently prying his fingers off her robe. "Unless we hold hands and jump in exactly at the same millisecond, we’re going to be separated. And I am not holding your hand."

"But I’m going to die!" Tang Bo wailed.

"You’re not going to die. Just hide in a bush and eat the jerky I gave you," Ji’an instructed, adjusting her spatial bag over her shoulder. "If a monster comes, throw the chili powder and run. I’ll find you guys inside."

She took a deep breath. It was time.

She began to walk toward the massive, swirling portal. The pull of the spatial magic tugged at her clothes and hair.

As she neared the portal’s event horizon, a sudden, intense chill washed over her. It wasn’t the wind from the portal. It was a targeted, focused aura.

Against her better judgment, Ji’an stopped. She looked up at the jade terrace one last time.

The other Inner Disciples were busy chatting, discussing the upcoming sparring matches or placing bets on which Outer Disciples would fail first.

It seems Gu Zhiwei and other young lords also still didn’t depart; instead, they were gathering in a corner together, perhaps to strategize, or just to simply gossip, looking at her way now and then.

But Xie Wangchen was exactly where he had been.

He had walked to the very edge of the terrace.

His hands were gripping the jade railing so tightly that fine spiderweb cracks were spidering outward from under his knuckles. His knuckles were bone-white.

He wasn’t hiding his expression anymore, because the mask of the "Ice Genius" had already cracked.

His dark eyes were wide, fixed on her with a desperate, naked anxiety that made Ji’an’s heart stumble in her chest.

He looked like a man watching his entire world walk off the edge of a cliff.

Ji’an swallowed hard.

The memory of the midnight room rushed back, his lips on the back of her hand, the way he had nuzzled his face into her palm, the raw, hoarse way he had whispered, ’If the world takes you, I will have nothing left.’

The physical distance between them was fifty feet, but the emotional tension bridging that gap was thick enough to cut with her spatula.

She saw his lips move.

He didn’t shout, but she could read the shape of the words perfectly.

Be safe.

Ji’an felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks, entirely overriding the cold wind of the plaza.

Her "Single Dog" armor was failing miserably under the barrage of this boy’s intense, unapologetic devotion.

She couldn’t shout back. She couldn’t give him a thumbs up; it felt too casual for the weight of his stare.

Instead, she raised her left hand, but she didn’t wave.

She simply pulled her gray sleeve back an inch, just enough to expose the glittering, icy-blue beads of the Frost-Soul Barrier wrapped around her wrist.

She tapped the bracelet once with her right index finger.

I have your protection. I’ll be fine.

Wangchen saw the gesture. The frantic, desperate energy in his posture eased by a fraction of a millimeter.

He gave a single, stiff nod, his eyes darkening with a promise that he would be waiting for her on the other side.

’Okay. That’s enough eye contact for one lifetime,’ Ji’an thought, her heart racing so fast she felt slightly dizzy. ’If I look at him any longer, I’m going to forget my own name, let alone how to cook.’

She broke the gaze, turning her back to the terrace and facing the swirling, violent purple vortex of the Lower Realm.

"Alright, Myriad Illusions," Ji’an muttered to herself, gripping her Lifeline Token tightly. "Let’s see what kind of exotic ingredients you’ve got hiding in there. Time to forage."

Without another backward glance, Lin Ji’an stepped into the abyss.

The spatial energy enveloped her instantly, silencing the roar of the crowd, the booming voice of the Elder, and the heavy, burning gaze of the Ice Dragon.

The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of twisting colors and rushing wind, hurtling her toward a survival test that was about to turn into the most chaotic catering event in the history of the Celestial Sword Sect.