Pyradine City looked like a shiny, rough gem in the southern part of the Chrysoprase Empire. It was a city defined by movement and ambition. It was a huge, multi-tiered stronghold where the heavy, blood-stained currents of commerce, war, and martial groups violently collided.
The air here always smelled like metal, and the scent came from the continuous clang of cold steel from a thousand training yards. The air was thick with anxiety, full of the hopes and dreams of a million people. Here, disciples bathed in sweat followed the illusive, blood-soaked dream of the martial pinnacle. Their battle cries and dying gasps were lost in the overpowering noise of the streets.
Merchants yelled their goods from intricately carved stalls with a desperation that was almost like acting. Their voices were louder because of the formal
Fresh medicinal herbs in their lungs! Just picked from the Jade Forests, full of life-giving vitality!
"Sharp blades for cutting bones! Blood-tempered and sure to cut through the armor of an iron-hide beast like winter silk! region's
Young masters and sword-maidens from rich clans walked through this never-ending pandemonium in flowing, brocaded silks. Their eyes were chilly, and they had the easy, scary arrogance of people from wealthy families. They continued without stopping, fully expecting the sea of ordinary people and roving swordsmen to get out of the way. seamlessly
But the veterans who had lived in the city long enough for their hair to turn gray saw through the seamless and loud, boastful shouts of young people who thought they were better than everyone else. They looked at the shadows. They watched the teahouses and the dark alleys where the genuine professionals went about their business: quiet, serene, and as treacherous as still water hiding depths full of monsters.
Life was cheap in Pyradine, but rumors were worth less than copper.
The shadows around the Southern City Gates' big arches gave people a short break from the hot heat at noon.
"Have you heard?" a guard muttered, leaning his armored shoulder against the cool stone of the archway. "Heard what?" his friend questioned, shifting the weight of his ironwood spear. "That the Silver Cauldron merchant family is boosting the price of wine again? Or that another outer disciple hurt his meridians while trying to break past his bottleneck?
"No, dumbass. In the West District, there is a store. They say it lets you enter another universe.
The second guard laughed and wiped the perspiration and dirt from his forehead. "You have been drinking rice wine that has been fermented before midday again. That is the empire's oldest trick. It is basically a two-bit con artist employing mesmerizing incense to steal money from a few country hicks who want to travel.
The first guard hissed, "I am serious!" and looked around to make sure their captain could not hear them. "Old Liu was out and about yesterday. He spotted a real fighter, a well-known second-rate master, crawling out of the shop's door at sunset. The man was screaming and clawing at the ground as if he had seen the absolute depths of the abyss. Liu said the guy peed his pants.
The second guard murmured, "Sounds like a haunted house for idiots." But even though he sounded as if he did not care, his grasp on the shaft of his spear got tighter and his knuckles turned white.
In a city where every warrior was looking for a secret weapon, a moment of clarity in combat, or a new way to improve their martial arts, even a "haunted mansion" was worth a second look.
There was a dying shop far away from the major roads, in a neglected, sun-starved area of the West District where the dust lay thick and undisturbed.
The wooden walls creaked under the weight of years of neglect, and the wood was rotting because of the wetness from the neighboring canal. The sign over the door was hanging at a dangerous angle, and the letters were flaking off like dead skin.
Dungeon Hall of Origins.
It was a name that was too big and too proud for a building that was falling apart. Yuan Bi was seated under that sign in a broken bamboo chair.
He looked like he was in his twenties and had a posture that could only be characterized as aggressively lazy. He gently waved a worn-out paper folding fan in front of him, and his black eyes were half-closed as he watched a stray dog walk along the deserted, trash-strewn street. He wore simple, faded gray robes that blended in perfectly with the sad background of the region. "No customers again," he said to the still air, but he did not seem really disappointed.
Sometimes, people walking by would slow down. Their eyes would dart to the dark, open door of the business before they leaned in to whisper to a friend.
"That is the location," a woman said in a low voice, dragging her friend by the sleeve. "The store of screaming."
Her buddy said, "It looks like a strong wind might knock it over," looking at Yuan Bi with a mix of pity and disdain. "Is not that the Yuan kid?" I heard that he got this dump from his grandfather when he died. Met a cruel young master and had his martial skills ruined merely to make him laugh. He broke his dantian. Now he is just sitting there, waiting for the cold to come and get him.
Yuan Bi's eyebrows moved. With a loud thwack, he closed his folding fan.
"I can hear you," he remarked in a flat voice that sounded bored and very different from how the city saw him.
The two gossipers tensed, their faces turned red with shame, and then they ran away like scared rabbits. Yuan Bi sighed and opened his fan again.
This business relied on selling broken iron weapons and diluted healing salves. Yuan Bi had once sat here, feeling the bitter, suffocating misery of a shattered young man. He had stared at the bottoms of wine jars and thought about which high bridge in Pyradine City would give him the quickest death.
But things changed forty-eight hours ago.
Yuan Bi had heard a voice wake him up in the middle of the night. It was not a sound from outside; it was a chilly, mechanical vibration that echoed in his head.
[System Initialization Complete.]
[Host Core Bound: Yuan Bi. Dantian Shattered (Mortal) Status:
[Starting the Dantian Reconstruction First-Time Host Protocol.]
He had been lying still on his cot, waiting for the hallucination brought on by alcohol to go away. It didn't.
Instead, a painful, scorching heat spread through his lower belly. Yuan Bi bit down on his blanket to keep from screaming as he felt his fractured, dried-up meridians spring back into place. It felt like hot gold was flowing straight into his veins. The broken pieces of his destroyed dantian forced themselves back together, making them tighter, denser, and much deeper than they had ever been before.
When the pain eventually went away, he was bathed in sweat, and a wave of pure, screaming internal force filled his body. Not only was he healed, but his foundation was also rebuilt to be perfect.
After the amazing cure, a torrent of raw, clear knowledge filled his thoughts. He had been tied to an old, multiversal core, which was a relic that could make "Trial Realms." These were small pieces of reality that had one cruel purpose: to force evolution and expansion through severe, unrestrained fighting.
And the system gave him a direct route to the very top. It worked on a harsh but perfect law of equal exchange: killing for knowledge. Because Internal Force was shut throughout the trial, contestants had to depend solely on their bodies and instincts. The real-world struggle for life and death tested their thoughts like nothing else.
The system made sure that all of the challenger's passive battlefield experience, muscle memory, and flashes of martial enlightenment were permanently transferred to and kept in their real-world body, whether they lived or died in the trial.
But the Host was the one who really benefited. Yuan Bi got "Shop EXP" for every kill he made in the dungeon. As the shop gained experience points (EXP) and leveled up, the system would give him huge, unbelievable benefits that would make years of boring meditation and hard physical training seem like nothing.
Two nights before, he had asked the empty chamber, "A trial realm?" He felt the flow of his newly regenerated internal force as he clenched his fist. "No legendary martial arts book? No secret master waiting to give you eighty years of power?
After that, he laughed. It was a gentle, dark, and funny sound. "That is how the game works. I let the other fighters do the dirty work. They endure the fear, and their bodies become accustomed to the fighting, which keeps them engaged. My shop levels up, and I get the huge system rewards. The stupid jerks that hurt me will not even notice me coming.
The business was completely empty by the next morning. The system took away the dusty shelves and rusty swords from his grandfather's time, using them as raw materials. There were four sleek, obsidian-black seats made of an unknown, light-absorbing metal on the cracking floorboards instead. There was a silver metal object on top of each seat that looked like a helmet and had a slow, regular, almost biological heartbeat.
He had put up a new wooden board at the door with bold, clear writing:
Open from 8 AM until midnight
Cost to get in: 2 spiritual stones per hour
5 Spiritual Stones for Trial Access
Maximum Time: Three Hours
Be careful: Life and death in the trial feel completely genuine. You are responsible for your own safety.
Reward: Random Benefit
People who break the regulations in the store will be punished right away.
"Perfect," Yuan Bi breathed, reclining back in his bamboo chair and stretching his arms, feeling the secret strength that was flowing just under his skin. "Nobody in their right mind will ever come at these costs." Seven spiritual stones are enough for a normal family to live well for five years.
BANG!
The store's broken doors crashed open, shaking the loose floorboards and sending a cloud of dust into the air. A round, sweaty person ran in, breathing heavily as if they had just run across the whole city.
Min Luan.
He was Yuan Bi's only "friend" left, if you could call a man who spent most of his time attempting to cajole Yuan Bi into disastrous business deals a "friend." Min Luan looked at the new sign, his chest thumping, while wearing expensive dark green merchant silks that did not suit his wide frame.
"Yuan Bi! What in the name of the ancestors is this crazy thing? Min Luan wheezed and pointed at the sign with a big finger covered with rings.
"Seven spiritual stones? Are you trying to steal from the district, or have the demons of insanity finally taken over your mind? And what is this martial enlightenment nonsense?
"Min Luan."
"Always a pleasure," Yuan Bi remarked, his voice smooth and cold. He did not bother to get up.
"It is a service."
"Quality costs extra."
"A service?" You are charging a lot of money to sit in a black chair and wear a metal bucket on your head! Min Luan moved closer, and his voice dropped to a frantic, pleading whisper.
"Bi, I know you were broken when you lost your martial arts. I understand that it hurts. But you can't pull off a trick like this! The guards of the city will take you to the dungeons. Please let me help you. Next week, I am receiving a cargo of low-quality medical herbs. We can—"
"Try it," Yuan Bi cut in.
His eyes suddenly fastened into the merchant's with a piercing intensity. He purposely let a sharp piece of his repaired internal force leak into his aura. When it touched Min Luan, it felt like a tangible weight, and the merchant immediately stepped back, his arms standing on end. It was not the bearing of a broken man; it was the sharp, predatory pressure of a true martial artist. Yuan Bi smoothly pulled his aura back in and said,
"If it is worthless, if it is an illusion, I will refund you every single stone and sell myself into indentured servitude to your merchant house."
"On your reputation?" Min Luan laughed uneasily, but he looked disturbed by the unexpected pressure, which he was sure he had not just imagined.
"On my life."
Min Luan looked at him, unsure of what to do. He used a silk handkerchief to wipe his forehead.
"You do not have much of a life left to sell, you obstinate ass."
Okay, fine! I am going to show you this deception right now, and then you will have to listen to reason.
With a loud, dramatic sigh, the merchant pulled out seven glowing, see-through spiritual stones from his brocade pouch and slammed them down on the wooden table. Then he marched to the nearest obsidian chair, virtually pushed himself onto it, and pulled the pulsing silver helm over his head.
"Let us witness this big scam." Min Luan's voice came through the helm in a muted way.
Yuan Bi just smiled and tapped his fan against his leg.
System.
Start the Dungeon: The Hall of the Undead.
Level of difficulty: Normal (one player)