All around me stood the others—mortals like myself who had crossed the threshold, who had managed to break through the golden barrier that once separated our limited world from this boundless one. Hundreds of thousands had made it through, and still more continued to arrive, the last few fortunate enough to pass through before the gate closed for another decade. We stood in clusters, some overwhelmed with awe, others kneeling in thanks, many simply staring wide-eyed at the horizon that stretched endlessly before us.

  And yet, amidst all this joy, I could not fully shake the doubt that clung to the edges of my thoughts.

  Had I truly been granted a second chance?

  This system—this so-called Fate-Defying System—what was it truly?

  Why had it chosen me?

  How had I survived, after all this time, only to awaken here… as if none of the last hundred years of my life had taken place? The confusion twisted beneath the surface of my thoughts.

  But for now… I let it go.

  Because standing here, in this new world so vibrant and alive, felt too good to question.

  I basked in the moment, letting the air fill my lungs, letting the light kiss my skin. For the first time in longer than I could remember, I felt light. I felt… free.

  A joy I had never known began to swell quietly in my chest.

  I smiled, tilting my face to the sky.

  Father… I made it. I finally took the first step.

  Time passed more quickly than I expected. The crowd swelled with each passing moment, as more emerged through the golden veil. Not millions like the masses that gathered on the Plain of Ascension, but still an overwhelming number.

  Some spoke among themselves, eager to form early bonds, hoping camaraderie might become strength. Others remained quiet, wary of misplaced trust, choosing privacy in the face of uncertainty. Whether in conversation or silence, we all stood together… waiting.

  Waiting for what came next.

  And then—it came.

  A deep, resonant sound rolled across the land. Not deafening, but vast. A voice carried and shifting by the wind.

  “To all who have stepped beyond mortality… congratulations. You have been chosen—recognized by the heavens.”

  A brief pause, just enough for the weight of those words to settle in people's hearts.

  “Welcome… to the Spiritual Realm. The realm of beginning”

  Silence followed—but it was not empty. It was full of realization. Full of breath held and released.

  A wave of joyous cheers erupted from the gathered crowd. Laughter blended into a single harmonious roar, the collective exhale of people who had lived to see what lay beyond.

  Before us stood a staircase so vast, so high, it seemed to pierce the heavens themselves. Its steps were wide and pristine, carved from radiant white stone that gleamed without blemish.

  Then, the voice returned—this time, from ahead of us.

  “Time is precious, and the journey ahead will shape your very path in cultivation. Before you lie the Stairway of Beginning. Ascend it, and with each step, leave behind the weight of your mortal life. At its peak, I shall meet you—and there, your true path will begin.”

  Those at the front surged ahead without hesitation, feet pounding against the stone, eyes bright with ambition and hunger. One after another, they began to ascend.

  I looked at the endless steps above, then at my own two feet. I followed.

  At first, I surged ahead with enthusiasm. My feet moved swiftly, my spirit high, carried by the momentum of victory and the thrill of possibility. I ran with the others, ascending the staircase without hesitation, without concern for how far it might stretch. My gaze was fixed on the sky above—endlessly blue, the sun brimming with warmth as if even the heavens welcomed us.

  But it didn’t take long before that warmth grew distant.

  The stairs continued—step after step, higher and higher, without end in sight. The path, once exhilarating, became punishing. My breath grew ragged, my heart pounded furiously in my chest, and my legs, so light at first, now trembled with each motion. The air thinned, and the climb became heavier.

  I began to notice those around me slowing.

  Some collapsed onto the steps, gasping for breath. Others stumbled, tripping over their own weary feet, tumbling backward down the steps. And some… didn’t get back up.

  I saw bones snap, bodies twist unnaturally, cries cut short by their fall. Broken legs. Shattered spines. Even stillness that could only mean death.

  The joyous rush from earlier had long faded.

  The sun, which once shone so proudly above us, now dipped slowly toward the horizon, its light turning orange, then violet, then finally dimming into twilight. The sky darkened, but the stairs remained as tall and infinite as it previously did.

  And I knew.

  I knew then—knew it with every ragged breath and every trembling limb—as I dragged my body forward, no longer walking upright but crawling, knees scraping against the pristine white stone. The heavens may have opened their gates to us, but they never promised to guide us beyond them. Even those deemed worthy to pass through, would still have to earn every step forward with blood, breath, and will.

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  This was no warm welcome.

  It was a trial clothed in hope.

  And by the time we realized it, death had already begun to collect its toll.

  As the truth began to settle into the bones of every climber, desperation took hold.

  The begging started—cries for help, hands reaching out in trembling desperation, voices cracking as they pleaded for someone to carry them a little further. But no one answered. No one stopped. The path was merciless, and no one was willing to risk their own life for another’s burden.

  And yet, humanity at its most desperate is rarely content to suffer alone.

  Those too weak to climb further began to grab—clawing at the ankles, robes, arms of those ahead of them or besides them. Some latched on like drowning men, dragging others down with them in their fall. Bodies tumbled in lawless descent, rolling over one another, crushing limbs and snapping bones as they collided with the unforgiving stone.

  As I watched one such fall unfold—a young man flailing wildly before slamming into another climber below—I turned my eyes forward, jaw clenched.

  I couldn’t allow this scenario to happen to me.

  This was the only way forward. The only path. And I would not—would not—let someone else’s failure become the end of me.

  But heaven, as always, tested conviction. My foot slipped.

  There was no warning—just a sudden absence of traction beneath me. My balance vanished, and I pitched forward, sliding violently down the steps. The stone rushed past me in blurs of white and red, my hands scrambling for anchorage as pain lashed across my arms.

  And then, my hand caught something.

  A jagged edge, dry and rough. I gripped it with everything I had, fingers burning. My body jerked to a halt, teetering on the edge of being lost entirely. I hung there, panting, barely able to process what had just happened.

  Until I saw what really happened.

  The steps around me were soaked. With sweat and streaks of blood. Trails smeared across the white stone, marking the places where bodies had fallen and lives had ended.

  Every step forward was more dangerous than the last—not only because of the climb, but because of those who had climbed before me.

  The climb continued.

  Hours passed—long and slow, each one more punishing than the last. The once blue sky had long since dimmed. Now, the night pressed down with a chilling stillness, lit only by pale starlight. There were no torches, no flames, no guiding light save for the distant, unreachable summit far above. The wind bit at my skin, drying the sweat and blood that clung to me like a second layer of clothing.

  And still, I climbed.

  With every passing hour, fewer voices echoed in the night. The crowd that once surged ahead had faded into silence. Some had reached the top far past what I could see, vanishing into the unknown beyond the summit. Others… had not.

  Many had fallen. Too many.

  There were no voices now. Just the soft rustle of wind, the beat of my slowing heart, and the grinding of my knees against the stairs.

  Eventually, I realized—There was no one left around me.

  No one ahead. No one behind.

  Just the dead… and me.

  The only movement was my own. The only sound, my labored breathing and the quiet, scrape of my hands and knees dragging me further upward. I couldn’t tell how many steps I’d taken—hundreds, thousands—it no longer mattered.

  Sleep called to me, sweet and treacherous. My vision blurred, darkness closing at the edges. Every part of my body begged for rest. But deep down, I knew—rest here was death.The heavens had opened their doors, but they offered no kindness beyond the threshold. Mercy was not part of their design.

  Knowing them, If I stopped now… I might never rise again. And so I refused.

  The skin on my palms, knees, and feet was long gone—scraped raw by the endless grind of stone against flesh. What remained was torn meat and exposed nerve, each motion a fresh agony. The blood that trailed behind me was my own, mingling with that of countless others who had fallen on the same path. I could feel the stone biting deeper with every crawl, as if determined to carve its way to my bones.

  And still—I moved.

  I no longer looked up. I didn’t have the strength. My head hung low, chin brushing my chest, eyes fixed only on the step in front of me. There could’ve been a body tumbling down toward me, or even death itself, and I wouldn't have seen it coming. All of what little energy I had left was spent keeping my limbs in motion—and my mind from slipping into unconsciousness.

  I had no sense of time. Whether minutes or hours passed, I could not tell. There was only motion, and silence.

  Until—suddenly—the incline vanished.

  My hand reached forward and felt not another step, but a flat, level surface.

  I had reached… the top?

  With a shaky breath, I lifted my head.

  There, stretched before me, was a wide plateau bathed in pale moonlight. All around were figures collapsed in varying states of exhaustion—some sprawled, others sitting with heads in their hands. A few stood upright, silent and watchful, as if they had been waiting for the last person to arrive.

  Then, from the far end of the platform, a voice rang out—clear, authoritative, and dripping with condescension.

  "The final climber has reached the summit. Well done, everyone."

  A beat of silence followed. Then the voice continued.

  "Let this be a lesson to you. Fate may have granted you entry into this realm, but only talent will allow you to walk it further."

  I clenched my teeth, too tired to respond, too angry to ignore it.

  "This climb," the voice went on, "should’ve made your place clear. Think of it as a reflection of your potential to rise in the world of cultivation. Those who failed to reach this point may have been granted fate’s blessing, but lacked the talent to wield it—and were shown mercy by being spared the suffering ahead. And as for those who arrived late…"

  There was a pause, subtle but deliberate, letting the weight of his tone sink in before he finished, "I'm sure you understand what your standing in this world truly is. Best to accept your place, sooner than later."

  He said no more on the matter, dismissing us like a teacher scolding the slowest students.

  "Now—let us proceed. Your real journey begins here. The true path of cultivation awaits."

  Wait? Proceed? Now?

  I wanted to cry out, Just let me rest… just for a moment.

  But I didn’t. I knew better.

  Voicing weakness now would only draw unwanted attention. So I swallowed the plea and buried it deep, forcing myself to move. With great effort, I pushed against the ground, my body protesting with every twitch of muscle. My legs wobbled beneath me, each step a silent battle.

  I staggered forward, slow—too slow.

  One by one, the others passed me, their paces steady, some even swift. They looked ahead, eyes locked on what was to come, while I remained far behind, dragging myself forward.And then—my foot landed awkwardly on a small pebble, just enough to throw off what little balance I had left. My weight shifted, my vision tilted, and I felt myself begin to fall forward, helpless to stop it.

  But before I could collapse—

  A hand caught me, gently wrapping around my shoulder and slid down to support my arm.

  Startled, I turned my head.

  Beside me stood a figure bathed in soft moonlight. Her skin looked almost like porcelain, so pale it seemed to glow under the stars. Her long silver hair spilled down her back, catching the light and shimmering like it was made of moonbeams. And her eyes—calm, deep, and beautiful—held this quiet sparkle, like they were holding a bit of the night sky tinted with violet. I couldn’t look away.

  And then she smiled.

  A warm, radiant smile that held no pity—only kindness.

  “Need help?” she asked softly.