The bloodstained arena still echoed with the cries of pain and triumph from the beast trials, but now a new tension replaced the earlier fear. Not of death—but of rejection.
The crowd of surviving disciples, now numbering just over a thousand, stood in tight groups—many bruised, others limping, but all with blazing eyes. Whispers spread like wildfire.
“Who is Kent, truly?”
“Did you see the way he fought the Domu? Without spells… just a mace! Not even a single chant!”
“He must be a body mage… or someone who received ancient inheritance. He has a flying throne! Who gets that in this age?”
“I heard one of the elders whispered the term ‘Heavenly Ruler of Eternity’ after his test. That’s not a title you give to a mortal.”
“He’s not from a lower realm, that’s for sure…”
As the murmurs grew into theories and suspicions, a powerful gust swept the arena.
A white-robed elder rose into the air, floating above them all. His face was calm, but his voice thundered through the space like a divine bell.
“Silence!”
The disciples quieted instantly.
“You have crossed the trials of fate, and you have walked through fire and blood. Over 1,100 of you stand here now—but the Living Pool Mountain will accept only 900.”
A sharp intake of breath passed through the disciples. Some stiffened, others clenched fists.
“Therefore,” the elder continued, “the final test shall be a mutual duel. You will fight each other, and only the worthy will step forward.”
The silence was immediately broken by groans, dread, and even despair. Many had not fully healed from their beast fights. Some had lost weapons or burned through all their talismans.
But the elder wasn’t finished.
“However… there are those among you,” he said, eyes sweeping over the crowd, “whose performances have exceeded expectations. Not just by victory, but by intent, skill, and fate.”
He waved his sleeve. A scroll unfurled in midair, glowing with gold characters.
“These seven hundred disciples will not need to fight. Their place on this mountain is secure.”
Names began to echo one after another, carried by the scroll’s divine voice. Murmurs turned into surprise and cheers as names of elite disciples, renowned clans, and lone prodigies were called.
Among them…
“Kent Hall.”
Heads turned instantly.
Kent merely nodded and walked without emotion as he was directed toward the edge of the arena, along with the others whose names were announced. No pride on his face. No joy. Only a strange detachment.
He moved to the edge of the hall.
The edge was marked by ornate stone balustrades, and beyond them were tiny arched windows. Kent walked alone to one of them, his boots quiet on the ancient floor. The arena behind him erupted again with cries of combat, but he barely noticed.
His eyes were drawn to what lay below.
Through the window, nestled in a wide cavern shrouded with faint mist, flowed a river of soft violet light.
The Immortal Living Pool.
Its waters weren’t water at all—it flowed like molten amethyst, thick with immortal essence, streaked with silver strands that pulsed like veins of lightning. Strange golden fish occasionally leapt through the surface and vanished just as quickly. The edges of the pool had blossomed with ghost-white flowers that floated above the surface like spiritual lanterns.
A rare emotion softened Kent’s gaze.
His hand touched the stone frame of the window as the light from the pool glimmered in his eyes.
“So this is the Immortal Living Pool…” he murmured to himself.
A warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time began to flow through his chest.
It was not ambition.
It was not rage.
It was… calm.
Peaceful, ancient calm. The kind only nature and eternity could give.
Behind him, the arena had descended into chaos again. Swords clashed, magical auras exploded. Dozens fought in a desperate bid to stay on the mountain. Some duels ended with broken limbs, others with bodies thrown out of the ring in defeat. Roars of power shook the stone walls as cultivators unleashed forbidden arts to prove their worth.
Screams of pain were matched only by cries of triumph.
But Kent didn’t look back.
He simply continued gazing at the pool, its glow reflected on his cheek. His mind drifted… not to victory, nor his next challenge… but to something deeper.
The old villa back on the Blue Planet.
The gentle touch of his grandmother’s hand.
The soft giggle of Thea, teasing him when they were children.
And now, he stood here.
In front of the immortal pool that only the chosen few ever saw.
A smile ghosted across his lips. Faint, but real.
Behind him, the fights continued—violent, chaotic, and bloody.
But for Kent, the world was quiet.
Because in this moment, he knew—
This was only the beginning.
The sounds of clashing metal and roaring spells finally faded, replaced by the heavy silence of exhaustion and survival. The last of the duels concluded with one final cry, and a bloodied youth fell unconscious into the arms of nearby healers. The great stone arena, soaked in dust and spirit aura, stood still—silent witness to a trial of ferocity and fate.
The elder once again floated above the arena, his voice now calm yet commanding.
“Nine hundred—you are the chosen ones. You will now follow me to receive your place within the Immortal Living Pool Sect.”
A murmur swept across the survivors. Some still limped, others steadied friends on their shoulders. But all stood upright with pride.
One by one, the disciples fell into a line that began moving toward the far end of the arena, where steps carved into silver-veined stone spiraled upward.
At the edge of the crowd, Kent remained where he was—still gazing down through the arched window at the glowing purple river below. Its quiet light shimmered like moonlight over his face, lost in his thoughts.
That was until a hand, firm and steady, rested gently on his shoulder.
“You’ve gazed enough, young man,” said a warm, aged voice. “The river of eternity can wait. For now, it is your path that must move forward.”
Kent blinked and slowly turned. The elder, robed in gray-white with eyes sharp like starlight, gave a knowing smile.
Kent bowed slightly, “Yes, elder.”
He stepped away from the window, casting one last glance at the mystical pool, then quietly joined the line.
–
The Underground Dormitory Hall…
After several minutes of ascent through a winding tunnel, the group emerged into a vast underground structure. Despite being underground, the ceiling sparkled with star-like stones, and pale spiritual vines glowed faintly from the walls.
The space was circular, with nine spiral floors layered one below the other. The disciples stood on the topmost floor, their eyes wide as they gazed down into the heart of the structure. At the very bottom, far below them, purple mist gathered—the faint touch of the Immortal Living Pool’s true breath.
At the center of this top floor, elders stood at ornate jade tables. One by one, disciples were called forward.
“Take this,” an elder said, handing each disciple a translucent jade token etched with their name and spirit mark. “This token is your identity here. It is also your room key, and your record of achievements. Do not lose it.”
Then came a folded bundle—two sets of white robes, plain but marked with a silver pattern on the shoulder in the shape of the Immortal Pool sigil.
“These are your cultivation robes. Wear them during all training hours and sect tasks.”
Kent stepped forward. His token gleamed a soft blue when he touched it. His name: Kent Hall appeared beneath a dragon-shaped spirit seal that pulsed briefly.
He received his robes in silence, nodding in gratitude.
An attendant led them to the chambers. Each room was modest, with stone flooring and carved shelves. But what caught Kent’s eye was the large purple tablet in the center—a half-meter-tall monolith that gave off waves of warm spirit energy.
“This is the Pool-Origin Tablet,” the elder explained, now addressing everyone. “It is connected to the life essence of the Immortal Living Pool. Sit in meditation upon it, and it will guide you in cultivation. The higher your affinity and will, the more it will respond.”
Kent entered his room and ran a hand over the smooth surface of the tablet. Warmth flowed instantly into his palm, gentle but alive—like a heartbeat from the very mountain.
But before he could test it further, another bell tone echoed in the air.
Main Hall – Orientation Gathering…
All nine hundred disciples were summoned to the central hall of the upper floor. There, the elder who led them earlier now stood on a raised platform, his presence drawing immediate silence.
“You have earned your place,” he said, “but your path has just begun. You are now members of the Immortal Living Pool Sect—and must live by its laws.”
He raised a silver scroll and began to recite:
“One—respect the Pool, for it gives life. Do not pollute or trespass deeper levels without permission.”
“Two—no disciple shall take another’s life within the mountain. Duels are allowed only in designated arenas.”
“Three—discipline, humility, and contribution shall determine your advancement.”
“Four—those who excel will descend floor by floor. The closer to the Pool you dwell, the greater your cultivation speed.”
“Five—defend the Sect. When called upon, you shall rise together as guardians of this sacred place.”
The words echoed with power—each rule not merely spoken but etched into the minds of the listeners through spiritual imprinting.
Then the elder smiled faintly.
“And lastly… strive not just for strength—but for honor. The mountain does not raise tyrants. It raises legends.”
With that, the disciples were dismissed to their rooms.
Kent walked calmly back to his chamber, jade token hanging from his belt, white robes folded in his arms. His eyes once again flicked down to where that pool of purple mist lingered below—still distant, but closer than before.