The Origins Dungeon Hall stood quietly at the edge of the West District, a skeletal building that seemed entirely indifferent to the sprawling, vibrant empire beyond its threshold. It had no grand banners snapping in the wind, no armored guards, and no radiating spiritual aura to signal its importance.
Yet, inside its warped wooden walls, people were beginning to lose their minds.
"AGAIN!"
BANG!
A handful of spirit crystals slammed onto the counter with reckless, trembling force. Min Luan stood there, his chest heaving as if he'd just run from one end of the empire to the other. His hair was a matted bird's nest, his robes were stained with salt and grime, and his eyes—once dull and complacent—now burned with a wild, jagged light.
"I'm going back!" he barked, his voice cracking. "This time… this time I kill it!"
Yuan Bi didn't even look up from the ledger he was lazily marking. "You said that the last six times, Min Luan."
"This time is different!"
"It's always different," Yuan Bi replied flatly. "The result, however, remains remarkably consistent. You enter, you scream, and you die."
Min Luan froze, a flash of phantom agony crossing his face as he remembered the sensation of his throat being crushed. He swallowed hard, then shoved the crystals closer to Yuan Bi. "Just take the damn money."
The crystals vanished into Yuan Bi's sleeve in a practiced motion. Min Luan didn't waste a second. He pivoted, threw himself into the black seat, and slammed the helm over his head. Silence claimed him instantly.
Yuan Bi leaned back, watching the rhythmic pulse of the headgear. "So fast," he murmured. No hesitation. No fear. Only the raw, gnawing desire to conquer the nightmare.
Outside the Shop
Footsteps on the cobblestones began to slow. A small crowd had gathered near the entrance, peering through the grime-streaked windows.
"What's the story here?" a passerby asked. "I've seen that fat merchant go in four times today."
"At least four," another whispered. "That's nearly thirty spirit crystals. Is he a secret millionaire or just stark raving mad?"
An old man nearby stroked his silver beard, his eyes narrowing. "Whichever it is, look at his face. That isn't the look of a man being scammed. That's the look of a man who's found something worth losing his soul over."
The whispers intensified. Hidden inheritance. Illusion formation. A gate to the underworld. In Pyradine City, mystery was a flame, and the citizens were all moths.
The Arrival
The door creaked open, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Two figures entered. Leading the way was a young man in vibrant green robes, his posture as straight and sharp as a spear. Arrogance radiated from him like heat from a forge. Behind him followed a burly guard, silent and stone-faced.
The crowd outside leaned in, sensing a show.
"You," the young man said, his voice dripping with cold condescension. "Are you the owner?"
Yuan Bi remained seated, his fan moving in a slow, rhythmic arc. "I am."
The young man's eyes flared. "You don't stand to greet a member of the Lin family?"
Yuan Bi finally looked at him, his gaze infuriatingly calm. "Does the Lin family pay extra for standing? If not, my legs prefer the chair."
A flicker of genuine rage crossed the young master's face. "You have some nerve, shopkeeper." He glanced around the spartan room, his lip curling at the strange seats and the motionless Min Luan. "What kind of trick is this?"
Yuan Bi pointed a lazy finger toward the air above Min Luan's head. "Watch."
A faint distortion appeared in the space above the sleeper—a shimmering, translucent window. It wasn't a perfect image, but the fragments were enough. Dark, dripping corridors. Rotting timber. A shadow moving with predatory grace. The crowd outside gasped as they glimpsed Min Luan's consciousness struggling for its life in a world of rust and blood.
The young master's arrogance faltered. "What is that?"
"A Trial Realm," Yuan Bi said. "Real pain. Real growth. Temporary death."
"Impossible."
Yuan Bi tapped the table. "Exit."
FLASH.
The projection vanished. Min Luan shot upright in his seat, a violent, guttural gasp tearing from his lungs. He clawed at his neck, his eyes unfocused and terrified.
The crowd outside recoiled. "It came out!" someone shrieked. "Did something follow him!?"
Min Luan ignored them all, spinning on Yuan Bi with furious eyes. "WHY?! I HAD HIM! WHY DID YOU PULL ME OUT?!"
Yuan Bi nodded toward the young master. "Demonstration for the guest."
Min Luan's rage hit a wall. He looked at the Lin family heir, then back to Yuan Bi. "…Can I go back in?"
"Pay first."
"You're a heartless vulture, Yuan Bi." Min Luan reached for his pouch.
The atmosphere in the shop shifted from curiosity to a fever pitch. The young master's pride was ignited. If a common merchant could survive this, surely a genius of the Lin family would conquer it.
"Pay him," the young master snapped.
Moments later, the heir was in the chair. The helm lowered. He vanished into the stillness of the trial.
The crowd watched the flickering projection with bated breath. They saw the young master confident—then cautious—then sprinting. They saw the scream before they heard it.
"AAAAAAHHHH!"
The young man exploded out of the seat, scrambling backward on the floor, his expensive robes tangling in his legs. "It tried to eat me! The damn thing tried to eat me!"
Laughter erupted from the street.
"Look at the 'Young Master'!"
"Screamed louder than a toddler in a dark room!"
The young man's face burned a deep, shamed scarlet. But then, something strange happened. He didn't leave. He stood up, dusted off his robes, and looked at the black seat with a mixture of terror and obsession.
He went back. Again. And again.
Hours passed. The sun began to dip, casting long, bloody shadows across the West District. The young master emerged for the final time, his breath coming in ragged sobs, his eyes bloodshot. "I'll pay more! Ten crystals—twenty! Let me stay longer!"
"No," Yuan Bi said.
"I'll triple it! Five times the rate!"
The crowd gasped. Five times? That was pure madness.
Yuan Bi didn't even blink. "The rules are on the board. Six hours maximum. No entry until tomorrow. Now, leave."
The young master stood there, shaken and frustrated, looking as if he might cry or strike out. But the aura in the shop—the subtle, crushing weight of the 'Violators will be suppressed' warning—held his hand. He turned and walked out, but his expression said what everyone already knew.
He would be back at sunrise.
As the crowd surged forward, clamoring for their turn, Yuan Bi raised a hand. "Line up. Order, or permanent bans. Choose."
The chaos vanished instantly. Cultivators who would normally kill over a spirit herb were suddenly standing in a neat, polite row.
Min Luan leaned over the counter. "…You're going to be the richest man in the empire, Yuan Bi."
Yuan Bi stood up, stretching his limbs. "No. I'm going to be busy."
He walked to the empty seat—the one hidden in the corner, away from the others. He sat down and lowered the helm.
Inside the Dungeon
Darkness. Then, the smell of copper and rot.
Yuan Bi stood in the mine. A corpse lumbered toward him, its jaw hanging by a thread of skin. Yuan Bi didn't flinch. He moved with a terrifying, surgical precision. One strike—a finger extended like a spear—straight through the creature's orbital socket.
The corpse collapsed. A faint, clean warmth flowed into Yuan Bi's meridians. He narrowed his eyes, feeling the gears of his own cultivation grind into motion. "So this is how it feels."
He looked into the deeper shadows of the mine. Something else was moving there. Something fast. Something that didn't drag its feet.
It was watching him.
Yuan Bi smiled faintly, his eyes reflecting the red light of the dying sky above. "Good. Let's see what else this place is hiding."
End of Chapter 3