The morning sun rose cold and pale over the northeastern highlands, casting a sharp light across the public Trial Arena of Black Tortoise Mountain. The arena was a vast, circular basin carved directly into the rugged granite foothills, surrounded by towering stone pillars that rose like jagged fingers against the sky. A freezing wind swept down from the snow-capped peaks, carrying the scent of dry dust and iron ore.
Hundreds of rogue cultivators gathered in the basin, their voices forming a low, constant murmur that echoed off the stone walls. Most of them were burly men with calloused hands and broad shoulders, dressed in simple hide coats or sleeveless leather vests, typical of body-tempering specialists. Yet, there were also many standard Qi cultivators who stood in silent groups, hoping their spiritual reserves would carry them through the physical selection.
Fang Lin stood near the western edge of the plaza, his hood pulled forward to conceal his face. Dressed in the simple grey-green leather-bound robes of Mu Tie, he carried the heavy black broad sword on his back, its sheer weight pressing down on his shoulders. Underneath his calm exterior, his divine sense was fully withdrawn into his dantian. The three perfect cores—Frost, Life, and Death—spun slowly in their orbits, fully suppressed to mimic the natural vitality of a Peak Spirit Foundation body cultivator.
Near the center of the arena, a group of cultivators in dark-green silk robes stood apart from the crowd, led by Guan Sheng. The young genius of the Guan Clan carried himself with immense pride, his chin tilted upward as he listened to the flattery of his clan retainers. His dark-green robes, marked with the black tortoise shell emblem, fluttered in the mountain breeze, and his Late Spirit Foundation earth Qi radiated outward in faint, heavy ripples, warning others to keep their distance.
"The trial this year is said to be overseen by Elder Zhao himself," a rogue cultivator nearby whispered to his companion, shivering in the cold. "He is one of the outer gate hall elders, a Core Formation expert whose hammer techniques are famous throughout the province."
"If we can pass his inspection, we might get assigned to one of the direct forge halls on Broken Hammer Peak," the other replied, his eyes filled with hope. "Even as an assistant smith, the resource allowance is thrice what we get as vagrants."
Fang Lin listened to the whispers, his expression unchanged. His goal was not to draw the attention of the high-level elders or the domain-forging grandmasters, but to secure a stable, unglamorous position in the smithy where he could investigate the clue of the Old Vitality Leaf without raising suspicion. To achieve this, he had to perform well enough to pass, but stay within the top ten percent to avoid becoming a target of curiosity.
Suddenly, a loud, metallic chime rang out from the stone dais at the northern end of the arena.
The crowd fell silent immediately, turning their heads toward the stage. A tall, broad-shouldered elder in heavy, iron-grey robes stepped forward. His face was weathered like granite, and his beard was short and steel-grey. On his back, he carried a massive forging hammer with a dark-iron head that looked heavy enough to crush a hill. This was Elder Zhao. Behind him stood six senior outer gate disciples, all dressed in clean green-and-black robes, their faces stern and eyes sharp as they scanned the crowd.
"Silence," Elder Zhao spoke, his voice carrying the deep, echoing resonance of earth-affinity Qi. Though he did not shout, the sound vibrated through the granite floor, pressing down on the chest of every candidate. "The outer gate recruitment trial of Black Tortoise Mountain begins now."
He paused, his heavy gaze sweeping over the hundreds of young cultivators in the basin.
"Our sect does not care about your backgrounds, your past sects, or your personal fortunes," Elder Zhao continued calmly. "We search for those with true natural talent, innate bone-strength, and unyielding willpower. If your bones are weak, or if you rely solely on external pills to raise your spiritual Qi, you will fail the first step. The trial is divided into separate tests for the male and female categories, recognizing the natural differences in physical constitution. We will begin with the male category."
He gestured with his right hand toward a massive stone archway built into the eastern wall of the arena basin. The archway led into a long, tunnel-like corridor built of high-density granite blocks, the air inside shimmering with a faint, dark-brown glow.
"The first test is the Gravity Passage," Elder Zhao announced. "You will walk through this corridor. The defensive formations of the sect will compress the earth Qi within, raising the gravity-pressure incrementally from two times normal weight up to ten times. To pass, you must reach the exit. Those who collapse, crawl, or fail to stand will be disqualified."
A collective murmur of anxiety rippled through the crowd. Ten times gravity was a terrifying force. For an ordinary mortal, such weight would crush their internal organs and snap their bones instantly. Even for low-level Qi cultivators, walking under such pressure required continuous, heavy consumption of spiritual energy to reinforce their muscles and skeletal frames.
"Let the first group enter," one of the senior disciples called out, holding a registration scroll.
The first ten candidates stepped forward, their faces tense. Among them were three body cultivators and seven standard Qi cultivators. They lined up before the archway and, at the disciple's signal, stepped into the dark corridor.
As soon as they crossed the threshold, their bodies visibly stiffened. The faint, dark-brown light of the compressed earth Qi pressed down on them. By the time they reached the middle of the corridor, where the pressure rose to five times gravity, the standard Qi cultivators were already sweating profusely, their knees trembling as they channeled their Qi to support their weight. Two of them groaned, falling to their knees as the invisible weight pressed them against the granite floor. The senior disciples quickly dragged them out, their names crossed off the scroll.
Only four candidates from the first group successfully walked out of the exit, their faces pale and chests heaving as they gasped for air.
Group after group entered, and the failure rate was brutal. Nearly half of the candidates were disqualified, unable to withstand the grinding pressure on their bones and internal organs. The granite floor of the passage was stained with drops of sweat and blood.
"Guan Sheng of the Guan Clan," the registering disciple called out.
The crowd stirred, many turning to watch as Guan Sheng stepped forward with a confident smile. He adjusted his dark-green silk robes, ignored the nervous glances of the other candidates in his group, and walked toward the archway.
Fang Lin watched from the crowd, his eyes narrow and focused.
Guan Sheng stepped into the passage. The moment the gravity hit him, his body barely faltered. A faint, dark-brown glow of earth-affinity Qi erupted from his meridians, forming a subtle barrier around his frame that harmonized with the formation's energy. He walked with steady, measured strides, his expression remaining calm even as the pressure rose to eight times, then nine times gravity. When he reached the final section of the corridor—where the full ten times gravity pressed down—he simply took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he walked out of the exit without breaking his posture.
"Guan Sheng. Time elapsed, forty breaths. Grade, Superior," the testing disciple announced, a trace of approval in his voice.
The crowd whispered in admiration. Walking through ten times gravity in forty breaths without showing signs of struggle was a clear demonstration of excellent foundation and natural bone-strength. Guan Sheng stood near the exit, his arms folded as he looked back at the remaining candidates with a smug, scanning gaze.
"Next group. Mu Tie, Chen Feng, Zhao Bao..." the disciple read from the scroll.
Fang Lin adjusted the strap of his heavy broad sword, stepped out of the crowd, and approached the archway. As he stood before the entrance, a silent, mental whisper echoed in his mind.
"Fang Lin, be careful," the Dark Flame Spirit spoke from inside his spiritual sea, her voice small but clear. "The formation's scanning Qi is quite active. It is designed to detect hidden high-grade Qi or spatial treasures. I will help you mask it."
"Can you cover the cores without blocking the formation's gravity?" Fang Lin asked mentally, his steps steady as he neared the threshold.
"Of course," the spirit replied confidently. "I will wrap your dantian and the three cores in a thin layer of spatial dark flame. It will actively burn away any intrusive scanning energy before it can touch your cores, while letting the physical gravity press on your body normally. They will only see the physical vitality of a Peak Spirit Foundation body cultivator."
"Good," Fang Lin thought.
He stepped across the threshold, entering the dark corridor.
The moment his foot touched the granite slab, a heavy, invisible weight slammed down on his shoulders. The air grew dense, and the dark-brown light of the compressed earth Qi gathered around his body. The pressure was immediately at two times gravity, rising rapidly as he took his first few steps.
Within his spiritual sea, the scanning Qi of the formation swept inward like a fine mist, searching for anomalies. Before it could reach his dantian, a thin, quiet flame of violet-black spatial energy flared around his three spinning cores, neutralizing the scanning threads instantly. The formation detected nothing but a solid, empty dantian and a completely unremarkable, average frame.
Fang Lin kept his head slightly lowered, his eyes focused on the granite floor. He did not use a single thread of Frost, Life, or Death Qi. Instead, he relied entirely on the natural physical strength of his body. His skeleton had been tempered to the Asura Flesh stage, and his bones were as dense as refined steel, reinforced by the residual energy of his Core Formation breakthrough.
At four times gravity, his body felt slightly heavy, but his joints did not shake.
At six times gravity, the pressure began to force his muscles to carry his weight. Fang Lin adjusted his posture slightly, aligning his ankles, knees, and spine according to the principles he had analyzed from observing Guan Sheng. By aligning his skeletal structure perfectly, he allowed his bones to carry the load directly, minimizing the strain on his muscles.
At eight times gravity, several candidates in his group groaned and fell, their bones creaking under the weight. Fang Lin continued forward, his steps remaining slow and heavy. To align with his target of the top ten percent, he did not walk as easily as Guan Sheng had. He allowed his breathing to become slightly louder, his jaw to clench, and a few drops of sweat to bead on his forehead, simulating the expected effort of a strong rogue body cultivator.
He stepped into the final section. Ten times gravity pressed down like a mountain.
Fang Lin felt his muscles tighten, his Asura Flesh green-gold vitality rippling silently beneath his skin to absorb the pressure. He kept his stride steady, refusing to bend his back. With a slow, deliberate pace, he crossed the exit line and stepped out into the open air of the basin.
He took a deep, heavy breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, acting as though he had pushed himself near his limit.
"Mu Tie. Time elapsed, fifty-five breaths. Grade, Excellent," the disciple announced, writing the result down.
Near the exit, Guan Sheng's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched Fang Lin. He scanned the youth's thoroughly unremarkable, average frame and the massive broad sword on his back, noting the steady, uninjured posture of the rogue. Fifty-five breaths was not as fast as his own record, but it was still well within the top ten percent of the day's candidates.
"A rogue body cultivator with some decent bones," Guan Sheng murmured to himself, his voice carrying a trace of disdain, though his eyes remained focused on Fang Lin for a brief moment before turning away.
Fang Lin did not look at Guan Sheng. He walked to the designated waiting area, finding a quiet stone block to sit on. He adjusted his broad sword, keeping his eyes lowered as he waited for the second stage of the trial.
Once the Gravity Passage test was completed for all candidates, only seventy-two men remained out of the original three hundred. The rest had been disqualified or carried away to the medical tents.
"The second test will be held in the central basin," Elder Zhao's voice boomed again. He stood on the dais, looking down at the remaining candidates. "This is the Qi-Suppression Carry Test."
He gestured toward a large, circular depression in the center of the arena. The basin was paved with massive, dark-grey granite stones, and the perimeter was marked by twelve tall jade pillars engraved with complex, white sealing runes.
"Inside this basin, the ancient Qi-Suppression Array of the sect is active," Elder Zhao explained, his voice serious. "The moment you step inside, all spiritual Qi within your body will be completely sealed. You will not be able to use any spells, defensive barriers, or energy reinforcement. You will be reduced entirely to your base physical flesh and blood."
He pointed to a row of massive, rectangular granite slabs resting at the edge of the basin. Each slab was dark-grey, rough-hewn, and marked with a simple numeral: three hundred.
"Each slab weighs exactly three hundred pounds." Elder Zhao said. "You must lift the slab, carry it across the basin for a distance of sixty paces, and place it down within the designated markers. You have one hundred breaths to complete the task. If you drop the slab, fall, or fail to complete the distance in time, you fail."
A heavy silence fell over the candidates.
For a cultivator, three hundred pounds was a trivial weight when reinforced by spiritual Qi. A simple spell or Qi-enhancement could allow even a weak disciple to lift a thousand pounds with ease. But without Qi, under complete suppression, three hundred pounds was a heavy, brutal load that relied solely on the raw strength of human muscle, tendon, and bone.
"Enter the basin," the senior disciple ordered.
The first group of ten candidates walked down into the circular depression. The moment they crossed the line of the jade pillars, the white runes flared silently.
Fang Lin watched from the edge, observing the transition. He could see the physical change in the candidates. Their faces grew pale, and their postures slumped slightly as their spiritual connection was severed. When they approached the granite slabs, the difficulty became apparent.
Two of the standard Qi cultivators bent down, gripped the stone, and tried to lift it. Their faces turned bright red, their veins bulged on their necks, but the slab barely moved. One of them managed to lift it to his waist, only to scream as his back muscles tore under the load, dropping the stone with a loud crash that shook the dust.
Even the body cultivators struggled, their chests heaving and steps shaking as they carried the heavy stones across the sixty paces. Only three out of the ten passed the test.
When it was Guan Sheng's turn, he walked into the basin with a slight frown. The suppression of his earth Qi clearly displeased him, but he did not hesitate. He approached a slab, bent his knees, and gripped the stone. With a low grunt, he lifted it to his chest, his arms trembling slightly under the raw physical weight.
He began to walk. Without earth Qi to lighten his steps, his feet hit the granite floor with heavy, solid thuds. By the time he reached the forty-pace mark, his breathing was ragged and his face was flushed with blood, but his stubborn pride kept him moving. He crossed the sixty-pace line and dropped the slab onto the sand with a heavy thud.
"Guan Sheng. Completed. Time elapsed, sixty breaths," the disciple called out.
Guan Sheng walked out of the basin, massageing his sore forearms, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath.
"Next group. Mu Tie, Zhao Xun..."
Fang Lin stood up, adjusted his robes, and walked down into the basin.
As he crossed the line of the jade pillars, he felt a sudden, cold barrier clamp down on his dantian. The connection to his meridians was instantly severed. Inside his body, the three parallel paths of Frost, Life, and Death Qi fell completely silent, locked behind the heavy seals of the array. The grey seed in his spiritual sea remained quiet, its cosmic starlight shielded.
Fang Lin felt a sense of relief. The complete suppression of Qi meant there was absolutely no risk of his unique core forces leaking out. The array did the work of hiding his identity for him. Now, he was truly just a body cultivator named Mu Tie.
He approached his assigned granite slab. The dark-grey stone was rough, cold, and covered in fine granite dust.
Fang Lin bent his knees, keeping his back straight. He reached down, wrapping his unremarkable, calloused arms around the slab.
He lifted.
Three hundred jin of dead weight pressed down on his arms and shoulders. To a normal mortal, it was an immense load. But to Fang Lin, whose muscles had been tempered by the Nine Nether Phantom Body technique to the Asura Flesh stage, the weight felt solid but entirely manageable. His bones did not creak, and his muscles did not tear.
He stood up smoothly, holding the massive slab against his chest.
He began to walk.
To maintain his disguise as a talented but realistic rogue body cultivator, he did not rush. He made his steps look heavy, placing each foot down with deliberate force. He allowed his shoulders to tense and his chest to expand as he simulated the effort of carrying the load. He kept his pace steady, counting the paces in his mind.
Ten paces. Twenty paces. Thirty paces.
His breathing remained controlled, though he let it sound heavy to the observers. He did not stumble or sway. His joint alignment, perfected during the Gravity Passage, allowed him to distribute the weight evenly across his frame.
Forty paces. Fifty paces.
He crossed the sixty-pace line, bent his knees, and lowered the granite slab onto the stone floor with a controlled, solid thud.
He stood up, exhaling a long breath and stretching his back muscles, acting as though the test had required significant physical effort, though his heart rate was barely elevated.
"Mu Tie. Completed. Time elapsed, seventy-five breaths," the disciple announced.
Seventy-five breaths was a very strong result—slower than Guan Sheng's sixty breaths, but solid enough to place him securely in the top ten percent of the passing group. It was the performance of a highly capable, reliable body cultivator who would make an excellent apprentice in the forging halls.
Guan Sheng, standing nearby, watched Fang Lin walk out of the basin. He noted the rogue's steady hands and the absence of any muscle tremors. A look of cold curiosity passed through Guan Sheng's eyes, but he did not speak, merely turning back to his retainers.
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By the end of the afternoon, the recruitment trial was complete. Out of the hundreds of candidates who had gathered in the foothills, only twenty-eight had passed both tests.
Elder Zhao stepped to the front of the dais, his heavy hammer resting against his leg. He looked down at the twenty-eight exhausted, sweating youths with a nod of approval.
"You have demonstrated sufficient bone-strength and willpower to enter Black Tortoise Mountain," Elder Zhao spoke, his voice echoing across the quiet basin. "From this day forth, you are outer disciples of the sect. You will receive your uniforms, your identity tokens, and your hall assignments tomorrow morning. Prepare yourselves. The path of cultivation and forging is long, and the hammer does not tolerate weakness."
He turned and walked away, followed by the senior disciples.
Fang Lin stood in the crowd, a faint, unnoticeable smile appearing under his hood. He had passed the trial smoothly, kept his cores fully hidden, and secured his entry into the sect without drawing any unwanted attention from the high-level elders. The first step of his investigation in Black Tortoise Mountain was complete.
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