C6 Perseverance Test!

Under a pitch-black sky, dense clouds obscured any glimpse of stars or moon, leaving the heavens utterly devoid of light.

The wind howled, causing the oil lamp that dangled in front of the State Sect's branch to flicker wildly, threatening to snuff out at any moment.

Han Binn had been kneeling there for three relentless days and nights. During this time, he hadn't eaten a morsel or sipped a drop of water. He had passed out several times, and if not for the unwavering belief that sustained him, he might well have collapsed long ago. Thoughts of his aging parents and the sting of betrayal spurred him on; he chanted to himself that he must not sleep, must not yield, must endure.

Belief is a formidable force; it can amplify a person's willpower to staggering proportions.

Abruptly, the door swung open, and the disciple who had previously tried to persuade Han Binn emerged, cradling a bowl of steaming soup. Upon seeing Han Binn trembling in the chilly gusts, he hastened over and offered, "Little brother, drink this!" He could scarcely believe that a fifteen-year-old could withstand so much. What drove the boy's unwavering resolve?

Han Binn's eyes, which had been shut tight, opened slowly. His face, after days without food, was ashen and bloodless. He longed for a sip of the warm soup but resisted, expressing his thanks with, "Uncle, I appreciate it, but I won't drink."

With a "Rumble!" lightning slashed the sky, followed by a booming clap of thunder. The white bolts zigzagged violently, as though intent on ripping the sky apart. Rain began to fall, growing from a drizzle to a downpour, shrouding the world in a misty veil. The rain, whipped by the wind, soaked Han Binn to the bone.

His clothes clung to him, the chill of the fabric a stark contrast to the deeper coldness within. Lau Xihan's words haunted him—why couldn't he grasp his own love? Why did a general have the power over his fate? It was because he lacked the strength to resist. With that realization, the chill in Han Binn's body subsided slightly, and the conviction in his eyes blazed anew. He remained kneeling, head bowed, unmoving.

In that instant, it seemed as though he was the last person on earth.

Time blurred, and through the haze, Han Binn glimpsed a figure materializing before him. Sharpening his focus, he recognized the red-robed elder.

With a sigh, the elder remarked, "Despite your grave injuries, you've managed to endure. Such determination is rare indeed."

Han Binn remained silent, fixing his gaze on the elder, clinging to him as his final beacon of hope.

Touched by Han Binn's resolve, the elder spoke more gently, "Do you desire the path of cultivation so deeply?"

A nod was Han Binn's only response; words eluded him.

Dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand, the elder conceded, "Very well. Your conviction is clear, so I will lead you there. However, let me be upfront: even with your arrival, becoming a disciple of the sect is not guaranteed."

At these words, the chill that had gripped Han Binn melted away, leaving no trace. Summoning his last reserve of strength, he implored, "Immortal, if only you guide me, I will strive with all my might, I will..." Exhaustion overcame him; no food had passed his lips in three days and nights, a trial no fifteen-year-old should endure. His plea ended as he collapsed to the ground.

The elder sighed once more, sweeping his sleeve through the air. A gust of wind enveloped Han Binn, whisking him into the State Sect's branch.

In a guest room, the elder looked down at Han Binn's prone form on the bed and sighed yet again, "Unexpected, indeed! The Pill I entrusted to you, you gave away to another. Do you not realize that even with the Pill, it can only offer temporary relief from his wounds? Nevertheless, fate has intertwined our paths, and I shall not ignore this connection. His life shall be spared." With that, the elder's right hand glowed with a soft white light before pressing it onto Han Binn's forehead.

Moments later, a gentle white radiance emanated from Han Binn, his meridians knitting together at an extraordinary pace until they were fully mended.

Having done all he could, the elder's complexion paled slightly. In a hushed tone, he said, "My part is played. From here on, your destiny is your own." He seemed to be addressing Han Binn, yet his words hung in the air as if spoken to the universe itself.

Three days later, Han Binn finally awoke. As his eyes opened, a young man clad in white entered the room and asked, "You're awake?"

Surveying the youth and his surroundings, Han Binn inquired, "Where am I?"

The youth in white offered a slight smile and replied, "You're in luck. Our Martial Uncle noticed your determination and exceptionally allowed us to bring you into the sect."

A wave of joy swept over Han Binn as he quickly expressed his gratitude, "Thank you, Uncle."

The term seemed to catch the white-robed youth off guard, prompting a wry smile. "Do I really look that old?"

Considering the youth was barely into his twenties, 'Uncle' might have been a stretch. Han Binn, unsure of what else to say, offered an embarrassed smile.

"Just call me by my name," the youth suggested. "I'm Wang Feng."

Wang Feng led Han Binn into the courtyard, where dozens of children were gathered. They all paused, taken aback at the sight of Han Binn.

Zhang Yuan barely spared Han Binn a glance as he stated coolly, "I'm taking you to the sect now. Your chance to become an official disciple depends on how well you perform from here on out." With a flourish of his sleeves, he lifted the group of disciples into the air. Turning to Han Binn and Wang Feng still on the ground, he said, "Junior Brother Wang, I'll leave this youngster in your care!"

Shaking his head with a rueful smile, Wang Feng took hold of Han Binn and said, "Off we go."

A powerful force enveloped Han Binn, lifting him from the ground as the rush of wind filled his ears. Instinctively, he opened his eyes only to be met with a painful gust. Enduring the discomfort, he looked around to see Wang Feng standing on a Long Sword, clutching him as they soared swiftly through the air. Below, houses shrank to the size of palms, rapidly receding into the distance.

"If you don't want to go blind, keep your eyes shut," Wang Feng advised, glancing at Han Binn.

Taking the hint, Han Binn obediently closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of flight.

Moments later, Han Binn's body plummeted, and he found himself landing on solid ground. Opening his eyes, he took in his surroundings: he was halfway up a mountain, standing above a vast square crowded with thousands of children. Beyond the square, mists swirled, partially revealing peaks that gave the place an air of a mystical sanctuary.

Like the others, Han Binn was spellbound upon arrival, a scene straight out of a storyteller's tale now unfolding before his eyes. The prospect of cultivating Immortal Arts and achieving eternal life filled everyone with a palpable excitement.

"More challenges are sure to come," Han Binn thought, tempering his joy with caution. The elder's words still resonated with him; arriving here was no guarantee of ascension to immortality.

Suddenly, the space at the front of the square shimmered, and ten youths in white robes materialized, among them Zhang Yuan and Wang Feng.

Zhang Yuan surveyed the square and announced authoritatively, "Those with a three-star Spiritual Root or higher, move to the left. Everyone else, to the right."

The children quickly sorted themselves into two groups. A mere hundred stood to the left, the remainder forming a larger group on the right. Han Binn joined the latter, his gaze fixed on Zhang Yuan.

After conferring briefly with his fellow disciples, Zhang Yuan addressed the hundred or so on the left. "Shortly, the senior brothers will escort you to the inner court to become official disciples." No sooner had he spoken than five white-robed youths soared towards the group, each taking about twenty children and ascending into the sky.

With the hundred-plus children gone, Zhang Yuan turned to those who remained. "Cultivation requires not just talent, but also perseverance. The next test will measure just that. If you can endure, you'll earn the right to become official disciples. If not, we'll have no choice but to send you back." He pointed to a narrow trail beside the square and continued, "Follow this mountain path to a great peak. Across the river, you'll see a flag. Reach the flag, and you've passed. You have one day. If at any point you can't go on, just call out to surrender, and someone will escort you away."

Upon hearing the call, all the children dashed toward the narrow path, with Han Binn joining the throng as they sprinted forward. Once they emerged from the path, the sight of the towering mountain ahead stopped them in their tracks. The peak loomed at least a thousand feet high, a challenge that could take an adult several hours to surmount. The prospect of a ten-year-old completing the climb in a single day seemed daunting.

In that moment, bewilderment washed over the children as they gazed up at the formidable mountain, uncertain of their next move.

Then, one child broke the silence, exclaiming, "Pass these three trials, and you're on the path to cultivation. Fail, and it's back to the fields. No more hesitation!" With that, the child charged up the mountain with impressive speed, clearly the result of martial training. Inspired by these words, a surge of determination filled the others, and they too raced up the steep incline.

The mountain, while not the tallest, was treacherously steep. Several children, drained of their strength halfway, teetered dangerously close to tumbling down and ultimately abandoned the climb.

Han Binn, accustomed to farm work from a young age, had decent stamina. His strength had been restored after an elder had mended his meridians. Clenching his teeth, he persevered, step by step, until he finally reached the summit. But before he could take a moment to rest, his footing gave way, and he tumbled down the mountain. The children descending watched in shock, their eyes glued to Han Binn as he rolled to the base of the mountain.

Though not the first to conquer the peak, Han Binn was the first to arrive at the bottom.

Lying at the mountain's base, Han Binn was a bloody mess, his breathing faint, appearing lifeless.

Two children who had made it down ran to his side, one voicing their concern, "He's not dead, is he?"

The other shook his head grimly, "He looks beyond help. We should summon the Immortal!"

"I give up," the child called out loudly.

At that cry, a white light flickered in the sky, and a disciple in white robes materialized before them.

The disciple, taken aback by the scene, asked, "Who called out?"

The child who had first cried out pointed to Han Binn and exclaimed, "Immortal, I think he's close to death, so..."

That disciple was none other than Wang Feng. Catching sight of Han Binn, Wang Feng paused, a realization dawning on him. He sighed and said, "You can't resort to such extremes to be the first one down the mountain. Isn't that just asking for trouble?" Without another word, he scooped up Han Binn, intent on taking him back to the sect for treatment.

Just then, Han Binn stirred in his arms and protested urgently, "No, you can't take me away."

Taken aback, Wang Feng glanced down at him and said with a wry smile, "You're this badly hurt and still won't quit?"

Despite his ashen complexion, Han Binn was lucid. He was lucky the mountain was covered in weeds rather than bare rock, or that fall would have been fatal. His bones were broken in several places, and while not life-threatening, they prevented him from walking normally.

Shaking his head, Han Binn mustered his remaining strength and insisted, "I haven't conceded defeat. You don't have the right to carry me off." With great effort, he wriggled free from Wang Feng's grasp, picked up a stick from the ground, and, using it as a crutch, hobbled toward the riverbank.