Lu Haotian stayed kneeling for a long time.
The void was silent.
No pressure.
No voice.
Only his breathing.
Slow.
Uneven.
He wiped sweat from his brow with a trembling hand.
"That… was dangerous," he muttered.
Not because of pain.
But because of how convincing it was.
Comfort was the sharpest blade.
As he steadied himself, something changed.
Not externally.
Inside him.
His awareness expanded—stretching outward like invisible threads. He could feel the flow of energy in the space now. Faint currents. Subtle rhythms.
Qi.
But not the crude kind used to strengthen muscles.
This was perception.
Sensitivity.
His qi sense surged violently, leaping across invisible boundaries—rising to a level comparable to foundation establishment peak.
Lu Haotian stiffened.
He wasn't absorbing qi.
His realm hadn't changed.
But his ability to sense qi had advanced explosively.
"So that's the reward…" he murmured.
Insight.
The space trembled again.
The illusion was not done.
The gray void twisted—and reshaped itself.
This time, the Lu Family courtyard appeared again.
But something was wrong.
Young Lu Haotian stood there.
Nine years old.
Training alone.
This time, everyone still called him talented.
Servants whispered.
Elders walked past always glancing.
He trained.
And trained.
And trained.
Years blurred.
He never received opportunity.
Never met the stone slab.
Never left the farm work.
Light returned without warning and time seemed to move faster.
Lu Haotian blinked hard, instinctively raising his guard—only to freeze.
He was standing in a courtyard.
Not the ancient space. Not the stone slab realm.
A familiar place.
Stone tiles worn smooth by years of footsteps. A wooden rack holding practice swords. A low wall patched with moss.
The Lu Family outer courtyard.
His breathing slowed, confusion spreading through his chest.
"This…" he muttered. "This is home?"
A breeze brushed past him, warm and gentle. Somewhere, a servant laughed. From the kitchens came the smell of cooked grain and meat broth.
Real.
Too real.
He lowered his gaze and frowned.
His hands were larger. His fingers longer, rougher. Calluses lined his palms. When he clenched his fist, the movement felt practiced—habitual.
Adult.
He looked down at his clothes.
Simple cultivator robes. No clan markings. No rank badge.
His heart skipped.
"How old am I…?"
Before he could think further, a voice rang out.
"Hey! You're late again!"
Lu Haotian turned sharply.
A guard leaned against the gate, spear resting on his shoulder, expression annoyed but casual. No hostility. No fear. Just… familiarity.
"Move it. Patrol doesn't wait for daydreamers."
Patrol?
Lu Haotian opened his mouth, but the words came out smoothly, without thought.
"I'm coming."
The response startled him.
His body moved on its own.
The world blurred—and rearranged.
He was walking along city walls now. The city was smaller than Hei Yan City. Cramped. Ordinary. Cultivators passed by, most no stronger than Foundation Establishment.
He stopped walking.
Instinctively, he checked himself.
His qi flowed smoothly.
Stable.
Weak.
Foundation establishment early stage.
Not advancing.
Finished.
A strange heaviness settled in his chest.
This… was his cultivation?
Days passed.
No.
Months.
The illusion did not rush him. It dragged him gently, like water pulling a stone downstream.
He woke early. He patrolled the walls. He returned home tired.
Home.
A small courtyard. Narrow. Clean.
A woman greeted him there, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyes were kind. Ordinary.
"You're back," she said. "Dinner's almost ready."
He nodded.
They ate. Plain food. Enough to live.
Later, a child ran into the yard, wooden sword in hand.
"Father! Look!"
Lu Haotian—no, illusion-Haotian—laughed softly and demonstrated a simple sword form. Basic. Clean. Safe.
The boy copied it clumsily and fell over, laughing.
Warmth spread through his chest.
At night, he lay beside his wife, staring at the ceiling.
Sometimes… he thought of the Lu Family.
Of a tall boy with cold eyes and overwhelming talent.
Of twins who climbed higher and higher.
Of a quiet maid who used to follow behind him, asking endless questions.
But their faces were always unclear.
As if wrapped in mist.
Years passed.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
His cultivation never advanced beyond early Foundation establishment. No matter how many breathing cycles he ran, no matter how many times he tried to refine his qi.
"It's enough," he told himself.
He was not bullied.
Not powerful either.
Just… there.
One night, rain fell softly. He drank cheap wine alone, joints aching faintly.
"This life…" he murmured, staring at the table. "It's not bad."
The moment the words left his lips—
Something twisted.
Deep.
Painful.
Wrong.
The rain stopped.
Mid-drop.
The world froze.
Lu Haotian's pupils shrank.
"No," he said slowly.
The illusion resumed—forcefully.
Time accelerated.
His hair grayed.
His wife aged.
His son left.
Then came sickness.
He lay on a wooden bed, too weak to move. His qi barely stirred anymore.
He stayed in the Lu Family as an outer servant cultivator until he died.
No big failures.
No great success.
Just… erased.
Lu Haotian watched himself live that life.
Quiet.
Ignored.
Forgotten.
His hands shook.
"This… is another illusion," he whispered.
But doubt crept in.
Was it?
What if this was the most likely future?
With mixed roots.
With no backing.
With no miracle.
The illusion pressed down.
This is reality.
This is probability.
This is what awaits you without luck.
Lu Haotian clenched his fists.
His nails dug into his palms.
"I don't care," he said quietly.
The illusion wavered.
He lifted his head, eyes burning.
"I don't cultivate for safety. I cultivate to break limits."
The moment he spoke those words—
The illusion shattered violently.
The gray void exploded into light.
The space stabilized.
A massive door of light appeared before him, carved with five elemental symbols slowly rotating in harmony.
Earth.
Metal.
Water.
Wood.
Fire.
Lu Haotian stared at it, heart pounding.
"So this… was never about strength," he whispered.
It was about refusal.
Refusal to accept mediocrity.
Refusal to surrender ambition.
He rose to his feet, breathing steady now.
Whatever lay beyond that door—
He had earned the right to face it.
Without hesitation, Lu Haotian stepped forward and pushed it open.