The outside world was drowned away, like the bottom of the ocean. It became a place forgotten by those who opened their eyes to the sky they had never seen before, all trapped together in the wild.

  Hao was one of them. He was growing used to the heat, out under the everyday sky, yet he was in a hurry to find shelter, at the very least, denser shade from the sun. He had to stop under the tree canopies to get a break from the heat. Meditate, or try, to find some composure.

  Beasts, both animals and humans around him and the others. The enemies were countless in the realm cut off from the rules outside. All the disciples inside knew it. Even the people wearing the same robe as them were not fully to be trusted.

  The World Energy inside was a step above anything many of the poorer disciples that entered had ever felt. Hao knew World Energy like this. It was closer to the bag than the natural energy in the Sect, or the forests and mountains around it. A haven compared to the Servant’s quarters, old or new.

  Pure and dense, but not as pure as the World Energy from the Drinking-Stone, something else was mixed into the air and growing thick as a second noon approached. And not as dense as when he emptied the Spirit-Holding bag in the cave, a small space. But this was no small space. It seemed an entirely separate world, filled to the Brim with World Energy just the same.

  It had the warmest and coldest of summer, Energy from the peaks of both day and night. The hot and cold folded, almost mixing, but never quite becoming one.

  Time was slightly off in the Secret Realm, a handful of minutes back, close to an hour. Hao could feel the hot energy of noon growing more abrasive by the second. It rubbed on his skin like sand, ripping moisture from his nose on each breath.

  Without a doubt, mortals would roast standing in this place. What the hell is it… Hao thought, hurrying his feet, knowing the sun had yet to reach its perch. Perhaps then it would even dry me out.

  He took the heat of the days as a hint of what would come with the nights, as the storms will pass and in the next few weeks, the coldest part of summer will arrive. The extremes of the place would disappear in time, many months, with the first appearance of a kindhearted, but feelingless blue moon.

  As most people adjusted, the weakest began hiding the best they could from the sun, dreading thoughts of night.

  Hao ran through the forest. He wanted to find a cave before the real heat of noon came, in hopes the sun wouldn’t melt the stone. In his search, he was utilizing and perfecting the second stage of the ‘Seven Colored Steps’, dashing by tree after tree.

  He took anything that caught his curiosity, unless his ears found it before his eyes; The moment he heard twigs snapping he avoided the area, the other Sects sent far more people than the Drifting Stream, and the people of the Drifting Stream were not his allies. Unfairly, he labeled everyone an enemy, along with the few from his own sect. It wasn’t just the people that were worried. If the beasts and birds of the land were adjusted to days like this, no one stood a chance in a fair fight, not that a pouncing predator was looking for a fair fight. They just want food.

  Hao paid less attention to the thoughts of ambush and fruits on trees when he started to sweat, and it bubbled off him. He changed from practicing his techniques to using them, sprinting as hard as he could. The sun was yet to blind him, yet it swapped from violent hot to utterly oppressive. As if it wanted to boil him.

  This place will be a death ground during these mid-summer days. Hao thought, never before did he think he would hope for the rains of the storm season, but those were lacking here. Perhaps the rain will be coming after the sun falls from its perch.

  The cave realm was called Mid-summer as the excursion into the realm started just after the middle of summer, its hottest days passed and the slow change to coming cold brought lighting down to the ground. Then the cold of the nights was even worse. Until fall. But the mid-summer cave was its own place, and already its rules were different. And now a home for all who enter until winter.

  They did not tell us how to leave. Good things, it is common knowledge. Hao thought through all the details.

  The Seventh Elder was supposed to give them more information before they entered but he was occupied with Blue Moons Mountain’s Elder. He only mentioned they could not leave freely. The exit was not something people could decide either, it was up to the realm itself, it seemed. The portal would reopen when the realm was at its weakest.

  Or when the realm wanted people removed, for that, it didn’t need a portal. People who were too strong or the realm wanted to rest. And if they did not leave in time or stay insignificant to the realm it was possible for people to be stuck inside until the next year when they could get out.

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  Most things said about the realm were hearsay. Even the books in the library tower of the Sect had odd information. How much of it was true, Hao would find out before leaving.

  How many people will die just from the sun on the first day of entering? Hao thought, sucking the juice from a fruit plucked fresh from a tree. The sun was turning his sweat to steam, he could feel his body overheating. He was only in the Fifth Stage of Reclamation, stronger than he had entered, the heat would affect them less unless they never grew used to the summers outside. But if the weaker had entered as well. They would collapse, stunned until the afternoons arrived, prey to anything or anyone that was passing by.

  Hao rolled his tongue on the roof of his mouth, the yellow flesh of the shriveled green fruit was extremely tart. Once he was done with it, he put it in his bag. The Drinking-Stone took anything he missed before the now husk of the skin and its seeds fell to the field that was expanded in the Spirit-Holding bag.

  He had half a dozen such fruits before he found his way out of the forest, it seemed the size of unknown land only continued to grow. Already, the Secret Realm was far larger than the island he grew up on.

  Just beyond the line of trees, Hao saw a row of tall, steep rocky hills—A Cave—He went to it quickly, running along its edge. The sun was on the precipice of its straight-down glare, he could see the shadows of clouds fizzle away. His mind playing tricks, he thought he heard one boil away in the sky. It was not a noon he wanted to be caught under, in the open, not yet.

  Hao had an interest in the Energy that would fill this place during noon, but not the sweat and burns that would come with it. He did not find a single source of water during his run through the forest. All the and was already strange, but it at least had bodies of water, rivers, and streams. This place had none.

  There was no option left, moisture was steaming from his robe. The rocky cave was the only thing at his side, no cave to be found in the face of the stone. Hao began to knock away at the stone. He had plenty of tools in his bag, but not all things, he didn’t bring the tool he knew the best, the pickaxe. So he became one, he knew well how to break stone with his hands, and now with the ‘Five Element Breaking Fist’ techniques as his teacher, he only became better at it.

  When Hao used metal to earth, reversing the flow, most of the rock seemed nothing more than dirt under a shovel. With a few slaps of his palm, large chunks of stone began to fall away, minimal dust was created in the sundering. The largest piece he removed was torso-sized, he kept it close to the side with the rest hewn free. He had a long way to go and a little time to do it. He tried every stance and each flow, ripping out stone after stone.

  *

  Outside, the Elder’s ‘conversation’ started again, but was interrupted by the arrival of the post-noon rain. The slight drizzle was not a problem, it was the storm afterward, and all three Sects still had disciples sitting in the open. All the Elders were quick to cover their own, the weakest were shuttled to their respective ships, while most were able to weather the milder part of the summer days, between the hottest and the coldest hours.

  The Mission Hall leader helped get most of the disciples sheltered in the hull. When all was done, he stood on the deck looking down at the fizzled-out portal to the void.

  “Seventh Elder, we have always sent the disciple in at that time; however, would it not be wiser to send them in the afternoon, just before the portal closes?” The mission hall leader asked, landing his feet softly on the boards of the deck.

  “You have not been, so you do not know. Time is close, but slightly different. Some say it’s because it is closer to the sky. No is the short answer. But if they cannot survive the days, they have no chance in the nights.” The Seventh Elder said, looking out to the other two boats, backing up until he found a wall to lean against.

  “But…”

  “Quiet, you question our predecessor’s wisdom. If they grow used to the noon, they have a better chance at surviving the night… The greatest treasure in the realm is only present during the summer, wilting and spreading seeds when fall arrives. The summer treasures are their ripest at the peaks of day and night. Even if sending them in during noon is cruel, they have more to gain from it, and it’s kinder than sending them in during a storm or worse night.”

  The Seventh Elder reached his hand out, pointing at the group furthest from the Drifting Stream Sect’s flying boat. They were covering themselves in white fur cloaks that matched the material that made their ships sail. He didn’t bother to hide the envy on his face. “If we had something like that for our disciples…” he sighed, “There is good and bad in it not.”

  The mission hall leader looked over, then back, “They don’t have strong World Energy.”

  “Of course they don’t. Those cloaks keep their users warm and collect Yin energy at night. Reflecting heat and keeping the user cool during the day.” The seventh Elder let out a harrumph while the mission hall leader gained a little of the contagious envy.

  They both looked up with sensitive eyes, unaffected by the bright light as clouds gathered, the sky becoming unsightly.

  “You mentioned the storms, what of the rains inside? I have not been like you say, I am curious.” The Mission Hall Leader said, his mood clearly souring but maintaining his composure.

  “If you were curious, you should have gone in during your youth, you were strong enough and had good potential, you could have killed many and collected a lot, cloaks and holding bags.”

  The mission hall leader quickly put on a shyer face, His dark land-dweller eyebrows pulling in. “Many of my generation, and the one before, did not enter.” He said, lowering his head when the Seventh looked over at him.

  The Seventh continued, not wanting to talk about the Sect’s many mistakes in this place. “The rains are both kind and ruthless. They do not last long and are no heavier than the most aggressive out here. But they start later. If they do not stop and the land does not dry in time, puddles will turn to ice, and the very land itself will become a trap. So will the sky, as frozen clouds come falling from the air,” he said with burning eyes and a pale face. He could remember his time in the Secret, a tale of a near-forgotten youth from many generations before Hao arrived in the world.