The stone steps known as the Path of Inquiry were far more perilous than they appeared from afar.

  Steep and narrow, many sections clung tightly to the edge of sheer cliffs, winding upward as clouds roiled endlessly below. The stone surface, worn smooth by years of mountain wind, was cold and slick, mottled with moss and fine cracks. A single misstep meant plunging into the abyss.

  Before half a day had passed, Yun Che’s legs already felt as heavy as molten iron. Every attempt to lift them brought searing pain. Sweat soaked through the indigo clothes he had worn when leaving home—once stiff and neatly pressed—only to be chilled by the mountain wind and pressed tightly against his skin.

  From the foot of the mountain, the stairway had seemed as though its end lay plainly in sight. Yet once he truly set foot upon it, he realized the steps vanished endlessly into the clouds, without a visible destination. A weariness born deep within the bones, accompanied by a quiet sense of despair, slowly took root.

  Ahead of him, there were still over a dozen youths—stronger in build—yet all were staggering forward, gasping for breath. No one spoke. Only the sound of labored breathing and heavy footsteps echoed through the silent mountains.

  At this point, no one had given up.

  Yun Che clenched his teeth and forced all stray thoughts aside. He knew it clearly—

  There was no way back.

  Xitou Village. His parents. And that casually spoken judgment that had carved itself into his bones—

  “Lowest grade.”

  All of it became a single obsession, pushing him relentlessly upward.

  “Ah—save me! I give up!!”

  A shrill scream suddenly rang out from below, shattering the stillness.

  Everyone froze and looked down. A youth had slipped, his body instantly swallowed halfway by the surging clouds below the cliff. Just as terror seized their hearts, a dark-robed figure darted out like a ghost from the rocky slope, catching the falling youth midair. With several light movements, he delivered the boy safely back to the mountain’s base.

  It was an outer disciple of the Frostveil Sect, his expression utterly emotionless.

  Yun Che’s face paled slightly, his heart pounding. He no longer dared to look around. Pressing his body close to the inner cliff wall, he carefully moved legs that scarcely felt like his own, continuing upward.

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  Time passed amid endless climbing.

  One day… then another.

  The figures ahead gradually thinned and vanished. Yun Che did not know how many had quit, nor did he care. His world had narrowed to nothing but the stone steps before him—one after another, seemingly without end.

  Blisters formed on his feet, then burst under relentless friction. Every step felt like walking on blades. Soon, his knees and palms repeatedly struck the rough stone, skin torn open, blood seeping out and staining the steps a dark red.

  He was no longer walking.

  He was dragging his numb lower body upward, inch by inch, using only his arms.

  “A will like iron may illuminate the sun and moon…

  Yet the Ruins Sea is merciless, the spiritual root obscure.

  All effort… is ultimately futile.”

  A long sigh drifted down from the clouds above, carrying the chill of mountain wind.

  A middle-aged man in coarse hemp robes descended the steps with hands clasped behind his back, walking as though upon level ground. His features were gaunt, his complexion sallow with fatigue. As he passed each struggling youth, his gaze swept over their strained faces, shaking his head in quiet lament.

  When he stopped beside Yun Che, his steps paused—almost imperceptibly.

  This was the most miserable youth he had seen along the way.

  Clothes soaked and torn by blood and sweat. Knees and fingers mangled beyond recognition. The boy climbed in a posture that was nearly instinctual, almost beastlike.

  A rare trace of emotion flickered in the man’s eyes. He softened his voice.

  “Child… what is your name?”

  Yun Che’s consciousness was already fragmented by pain and exhaustion. Sounds from the outside world reached him as if through deep water, distant and unclear. His pupils had lost focus, yet his gaze remained locked upon the next step ahead.

  In his mind, only a single thought burned—

  Climb.

  Even if it means death.

  The middle-aged man studied those unfocused yet stubborn eyes and sighed softly. He extended a hand, hovering above Yun Che’s bloodstained head, and sent a gentle thread of spiritual energy probing inward.

  Moments later, he withdrew his hand.

  “A will rarely seen in this world,” he murmured.

  “But… spiritual perception is muddled. Affinity with ruin-qi nearly nonexistent. Meridians stagnant.”

  He fell silent for a brief moment, then shook his head.

  “No fate.”

  Casting Yun Che one last deep look, he flicked his sleeve and continued downward—never turning back.

  On the morning of the third day, when dawn finally pierced the sea of clouds, Yun Che’s blurred vision caught sight of something at the end of the endless steps.

  A flat stone platform.

  Hope—like a final spark—flickered weakly.

  Then—

  “The three-day limit has been reached!”

  A cold, merciless voice infused with spiritual power thundered into the ears of every youth who had endured to the end.

  “Those who reached the summit: three!”

  “All others—failures!”

  Yun Che’s body shuddered violently. Blood surged up his throat, only to be swallowed forcefully. He lifted his head with the last of his strength, gazing at the summit so close it seemed within reach—yet impossibly distant.

  At the platform’s edge stood the robed middle-aged cultivator, hands behind his back. His gaze swept downward calmly, as if observing roadside stones—utterly devoid of emotion.

  Darkness swallowed everything.

  Yun Che collapsed, falling unconscious on the stone steps—less than forty steps from the platform.

  Three days later, before the Cliff of a Hundred Artifacts.

  Eleven youths stood silently, Yun Che among them, faces pale.

  This was their final chance.

  And also—

  Their true dead end.

  He fails because this world never intended to give him a chance.

  Path of Inquiry is not meant to select the most determined,

  but to discard those the world has no use for.

  Then you’ve truly stepped into his position.

  It begins after everyone else has already turned away.

  ?? If you were standing where Yun Che stands now… Would you keep going?