The closer she got to the ring, the larger and larger it became.
From a distance, the World of a Million Cubes looked deceptively simple: a great ring formed from countless green blocks stacked atop and against one another like bricks. But up close, the simplicity fell apart, swallowed by sheer scale. Each block, perfectly cubical and perfectly cut, was larger than her entire body. The section Bai Ning descended toward was made of hundreds of such cubes, rising into a rough, uneven wall that seemed capable of turning aside armies.
It loomed like an ancient bastion left behind by giants; an emerald rampart that radiated silent authority, declaring: Here, and no further.
And yet, it was bizarrely imperfect. Some cubes jutted outward sharply; others sank back into the structure, as though pressed in by some impossible force. A few tilted at awkward angles. The whole thing felt like a monumental project… assembled by children. As if some titanic hand had dropped the blocks loosely into a ring and left them where they fell.
But Bai Ning knew better. The disarray was merely an illusion, intentional or otherwise. The inner surface of the ring, visible from above, was perfectly smooth and polished like jade. Whoever had created this ancient realm, the haphazard exterior was part of their original design.
Only cultivators participating in the tournament were permitted on the island and thus near the ring. Her master, her parents, and Seniors Fan Mei and Nui Feng had wished her luck before stepping aside, watching as she descended from the cloud ring toward the island below. She hadn’t been alone; at least a hundred others had flown down alongside her, their silhouettes scattering like a flock of birds as each moved toward a different section of the ring.
Most of them had vanished from her sight, presumably circling around to different segments of the colossal structure, looking for easier places to enter.
In truth, Bai Ning wished she could delay her own entry, even if just for a little while. She was excited, nervous, determined… but yesterday had been the most fun she’d had in what felt like ages. Talking with Nui Feng had been unexpectedly delightful, and the Future Sight Mirror had been fascinating enough that she found herself reconsidering her early fixation on the sword.
Then there had been the evening: ditching Master Mo Jian and her father while they talked about “important matters,” running off with her mother to explore the entire cloud ring. Bai Ning could have done without the lecture on propriety afterward, but aside from that, it had been wonderful.
So this morning, it had taken almost physical effort to wrench her thoughts back toward the real reason they were here: the tournament. For the first round-preliminary round, her goals were simple. Pass through with as little fuss as possible. Even Master Mo Jian hadn’t been worried she would fail, only that she might succeed too loudly. She could do that.
Taking a deep breath, and letting the last of her nervousness fall to wayside, Bai Ning exhaled, and stepped forward. The surface of the ring did not resist her. Instead, it yielded like mist, like drifting fog parting around a flame. She walked into solid stone as if crossing a veil.
Between one step and another, the world changed. The sky and the island vanished. The vast tournament grounds and the distant cloud ring dissolved like water under sunlight.
In their place rose a world of green. She stood in a corridor composed entirely of enormous cubical blocks, the same substance as the exterior ring, but now stretching endlessly in every direction. The floor beneath her feet was a seamless grid of jade-tinted stone. The walls rose sheer and unbroken, each block taller than she was. Even the ceiling overhead mirrored the exact pattern of the floor, surrounding her in a geometric labyrinth. It was as though she had wandered into the playroom of a giant, a toy house assembled from colossal building blocks.
A soft, ambient glow suffused everything, casting the corridor in gentle green radiance. It reminded her of sunlight filtering through new spring leaves, or the shimmer of light reflected beneath a forest pond. The air itself seemed subtly luminous, as if the very qi of the realm breathed with viridian color.
Bai Ning turned around, only to find the corridor stretching behind her in a straight, relentless line, with no entrance or exit to be seen. The moment she crossed the threshold, the ring had teleported her somewhere deep within. Ahead and behind, the world of cubes extended into infinity.
An irrepressible grin bloomed on her face. Sights like this never grew old.
But the tournament had already begun. There would be time to marvel later. With a flick of her wrist, a small, inch-long crimson umbrella shot from her storage pouch, expanding until it reached its full size and hovered slightly behind her. It opened with a subtle snap, casting her in its shade, while a faint crimson barrier shimmered into life around her.
This was the newly refurbished Six Trigrams Dragon-Scaled Crimson Parasol. Master Mo Jian had shaken his head at the name, muttering that it was long enough to serve as a weapon in its own right. She had still refused to change it, though.
Unlike the last time she had used it, she could now sustain it indefinitely, even with the increased qi expenditure necessary to maintain its full protective power. The parasol hovered around her like a sentinel, a shield against sudden fights or ambushes, which were inevitable hazards in a trial like this.
She had five days-six, in case something unforeseen happened-to navigate her way to the exit. Choosing a direction was meaningless; the World of a Million Cubes would ensure she found her path, so long as she kept moving. Stepping forward, she let her hand brush against the green stone walls, her eyes sweeping the corridor ahead. She kept her spiritual sense fully extended, probing for other cultivators or demonic beasts, any hint of danger in the vast, labyrinthine space.
Unfortunately, her senses could not penetrate the blocks themselves, leaving every wall, floor, and ceiling a potential hiding place for traps. She’d known that before entering though, so it wasn’t that much of a disappointment.
She moved cautiously, eyes peeled, while the cubes stretched endlessly around her. Fifteen minutes in, the novelty began to fade. A spatial realm or not, a corridor of massive green blocks could only hold her interest for so long.
No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she sensed an opening to her right, barely half a li ahead. She quickened her pace, still cautious, using her qi to cover the distance in moments. One of the blocks forming the right wall was simply missing, revealing a new corridor leading off to the side. Bai Ning peered down its length and saw it ended a couple of li away, beyond which lay a large, open room.
She didn’t have to think twice; this was clearly a way forward.
She took the turn, creeping to the corridor’s end, and looked up.
The corridor terminated abruptly into the side of a cavernous hall made of the same green blocks. Unlike the corridors, though, these blocks were jagged. Some jutted outward, some were pressed inward, and others tilted at odd angles, filling the room with sharp edges and strange contours rather than smooth surfaces. Every wall, and even the floor, had openings, including the one she was looking out from, perched midway along the room’s left wall.
At the center of the expansive chamber roamed a Winged Tiger. It was restrained, a thick silver chain binding one of its manacled legs to a peg set firmly in the floor. No matter how violently it thrashed or how high it leaped, the tiger could not extend beyond the circle the chain allowed.
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Bai Ning studied it with quiet fascination. Winged Tigers were demonic beasts she had only read about and never encountered in person. They were exceptionally rare, partly because their reputation was so polarizing. Some saw them as harbingers of extraordinary luck, hunting them swiftly for talismans and amulets crafted from their fangs and claws. Others considered them embodiments of catastrophe, signs of qi deviation, and likewise pursued them to prevent calamities.
Decades ago, two rival sects in the Thousand Shattered Islands had disagreed violently over their significance. One sect revered the Winged Tiger as a symbol of fortune and military prowess, placing its likeness even on their banners, while the other viewed the creature as a dangerous omen, capable of leading to Qiongqi or other spiritual corruption. Their opposing beliefs had escalated into open conflict, a war fought over a single beast’s perceived nature. It sounded absurd to Bai Ning, but such was the Winged Tiger: a creature capable of evoking extreme devotion or fear in equal measure, embodying the very essence of superstition and obsession.
These days, Winged Tigers were almost never seen in the Islands, though Bai Ning knew entire flocks roamed the mainland. Beyond their fascinating history, the strength of a Winged Tiger varied with the number of wings it bore. This one had only a single pair, making its power roughly equivalent to an early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator, an easy foe for her, if she chose to fight.
She paused for a moment, her gaze lingering on the beast, then slid her fingers along the mouth of her storage pouch. A ribbon of green silk floated upward into her waiting hands.
The ribbon unfolded, revealing itself not as fabric, but as a slender, malleable length of green steel, terminating in a polished hilt. The sword shimmered in the dim light of the hall, thin and supple enough to fold like silk, yet solid enough to cut as sharply as any blade. The Green Karma Sword (that Separates Life from Death; the portion of the name that Master Mo Jian had revoked with a weary expression) recently reforged using her little green flying sword with the techniques she had borrowed from the memories of murim; it existed in that strange space between weapon and whip, an extension of her will. Bai Ning grasped the hilt and flicked her wrist. The sword uncoiled in a sinuous arc, tracing a ribbon of green light through the air before snapping downward toward the Winged Tiger.
The beast reacted instantly, roaring in fury. It lunged, mouth opening wide to release crescents of wind aimed at the opening in the wall where she perched. Bai Ning ignored them. The gusts collided with her crimson barrier, dissipating harmlessly as her sword traced its deadly path. At the last instant, the tiger became enveloped in a whirlwind of violently spinning air, a shield of its own making that swallowed its snarl. Her sword cut through the barrier effortlessly, slicing cleanly through the rotating winds and continuing on its lethal path.
A crimson arc of blood erupted as the blade severed the tiger’s head from its shoulders. The sword recoiled automatically, coiling back into the loop of green steel in her hands as the severed head rolled a few feet before coming to rest. Bai Ning rose slowly, calm and measured. The tiger had been bound and thus stripped of its greatest advantage: mobility. Moreover, she had struck from an advantageous location and done so decisively. No wonder, it had taken only a single move to end it.
Where the tiger’s body had collapsed, a shallow pool of blood began to form, though most of it drained quickly into the floor. That confirmed her suspicions. She leaped down, controlling her descent with the Imperial Flying Steps, and crossed the room in a single, fluid bound, landing beside the tiger’s headless body. A single thought was enough to activate her telekinesis and sweep the carcass aside, revealing a narrow opening where it had been pacing.
It was a hidden passage, not a fully concealed one, but one that demanded confrontation with the Winged Tiger to access. She had noticed immediately upon seeing the room that a fight could easily be avoided, given that multiple openings existed on the walls and the ceiling. So, it made sense that there would be one on the floor too, just requiring defeating the tiger to access.
She extended her spiritual sense, probing downward, but the passage seemed to stretch endlessly, and she ran out of perception before reaching the end. No choice but to jump in blindly.
A grin spread across her face as she launched herself into the air, letting herself fall freely. The wind whipped through her hair and clothes, invigorating her senses. Her loyal parasol floated behind her like a shadow, and the Green Karma Sword hung at her waist; better to keep it handy if she ran into another fight below.
By the standards of the colossal openings she had already traversed, the passage was narrow, but still ample. Ten of her could have moved through side by side without issue. She maintained the Imperial Flying Steps, guiding her descent with perfect control, suppressing the instinct to cheer and whoop.
It took longer than she expected before the passage widened. She fell onto a bridge. A bridge, she confirmed moments later, suspended within a truly gargantuan room. The ceiling loomed so high above that it dissolved into shadow, while the floor and sides vanished entirely into darkness. She found herself in the middle of a path of green blocks, laid out like a road stretching from one unseen edge of the chamber to another, both ends swallowed by the void.
The bridge was anything but uniform. Some sections had blocks stacked in multiple layers; others stood solitary. Some jutted outward, others pressed downward, forming depressions and caverns. The path resembled a rugged mountain trail suspended in midair. She would have to climb, leap, and navigate with precision, or risk falling into the shadows below.
She inched forward to the bridge’s edge, peering down into the abyss, and couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. This was no ordinary corridor. Now this was a proper trial.
But-
‘If you’re not cheating, you’re not trying.’
The words echoed in her mind, the voice of her younger self carrying the wisdom of years, almost bringing a tear to her eye.
“Well said, little Bai Ning,” she murmured, praising herself shamelessly. Instead of continuing on foot, she flicked her storage pouch again. A paper crane shot out, silver and white, its folds perfect and precise. It hovered cheerfully before expanding, growing large enough for her to ride.
Bai Ning leaped onto its back, balancing effortlessly, and the crane shot forward with graceful speed, dodging the precarious blocks ahead as if the trial had suddenly become child's play.
Or so she thought-
A moment later, a green block from the bridge suddenly lifted and slammed against her shield with a sharp, ringing clang. The force jolted the crane backward, making the Crimson Parasol shudder violently. She crouched, eyes narrowing as the block arced around, clearly aiming for another strike. At the same time, another block rose from the bridge, then four more, until half a dozen hovered menacingly in the air.
That many, and with that strength… Bai Ning pursed her lips and commanded the crane to land immediately. The instant her feet touched the bridge, the blocks froze midair, suspended but no longer barreling toward her. So, there was a penalty for flying.
She exhaled slowly, letting her shoulders sag, and gazed down the winding, treacherous path ahead. Her grin vanished, replaced by a rueful sigh.
“Your wisdom was good, past Bai Ning,” she muttered, voice tinged with irony, “but the world is cruel… and full of traps.”
With a running leap enhanced by the Imperial Flying Steps, she sprang onto one of the protruding blocks. She used it as a launching platform, bounding to the next, then the next, each jump faster and more precise than the last. It wasn’t as exhilarating as flying, but it was far better than trudging along the bridge.
Her grin was growing when disaster struck. The block she had landed on gave way beneath her. It, along with the block supporting it, tumbled into the abyss, carrying Bai Ning with them. She let out a sharp, high-pitched yelp, barely managing to command the Paper Crane to swoop in, catch her mid-fall and deposit her gently back on the remaining section of the bridge.
She stomped down, testing the stability of the block beneath her feet, and cautiously raised her eyes to the hovering green cubes above.
They had moved while she fell, angling themselves as if intent on striking, stopping only once she touched the bridge again. Any action that took her off the bridge, whether it be flying, jumping, or otherwise, triggered their aggression. She exhaled sharply, lips pressing into a thin line. Not only was this a trial of skill, but it was also a constant dance with danger. A pain in the neck, indeed.
She resumed forward, this time actually walking. It wasn’t difficult… just tedious. She clambered over protruding blocks, leaped across depressions on the bridge, and once squeezed between two blocks which only had a very narrow passage through them. That last one was tense; she was half afraid the blocks would come to life and try to crush her between them. As she moved, the number of cubes hovering above multiplied. Soon, there were roughly a hundred, and every second her feet left the bridge, they drifted closer, like predators circling.
Since she wasn’t dumb, Bai Ning had a fair idea where this was heading. Somewhere up ahead, there would be a trap, or a fight, or some other mechanism designed to force her into the air. The cubes would descend the moment she tried to evade, aiming to knock her off balance or worse. She was taking steps to mitigate that, the easiest being to try and limit the number of cubes in the air, or failing that, destroy them.
Unfortunately, her sword simply sparked against the cubes’ surfaces, bright flashes scattering across the air, but achieved nothing. Even her cutting technique, now almost instinctual after months of practice, failed. The blocks were beyond her ability to cut for the moment.
So, she kept the little paper crane close, her crimson barrier active, and her sword at the ready as she moved forward, knowing that the heart of the trial lay just ahead, waiting to test her in ways she could not yet see.
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