Surprisingly Enough(NOT), Common Sense Is Overpowered in Cliché Cultivation World

1.96 Nah! I would adapt~

The observation hall was completely silent. The elders stared at the water-mirror, speechless.

Bronze light was common enough that no one would lose sleep over it.

Silver light was rare, but in nearly every trial, one or two disciples achieved it.

Gold light was the sign of extreme talent, recorded only twice in the tower's entire history.

But purple-gold?

That color had never once appeared in the records of the Heavenly Origin Tower.

Not once.

The purple-gold beam descended over Ji Ning's sealed chamber. It drowned out the lingering bronze lights, swallowed Lei Dong's silver radiance whole, and even made Xiao Fan's golden beam tremble faintly for a breath.

"Unprecedented. Holy heavens..." He Shou's jaw hung slack, his eyes locked on the water mirror like it might vanish if he blinked.

Normally, Lou Ren would've needled He Shou for gawking so shamelessly, hardly the composure expected of a respected foundation-building cultivator, but this time even he couldn't manage it.

"Purple-gold? How?" Lou Ren's fan froze mid-motion, forgotten in the air.

Even Zhou Chen, who'd been winding up for another complaint about Xiao Fan hoarding fortune meant for better-born disciples, froze with his mouth half-open, looking every bit like a man who'd swallowed his own tongue.

After all, Ji Ning was a disciple who'd come from nothing, and had risen even higher than Lei Dong.

The young elder swallowed hard. "Senior Brother Hong. What does this even mean?"

Hong Zeiling said nothing, because he genuinely didn't know.

Which was the most alarming part. He was supposed to be the one with answers about this tower, and the tower had just left him just as dumbfounded as everyone else.

Then the silence shattered under a burst of laughter.

"Hahaha, suck it, old man!" Ling Xin jabbed a finger at Zhou Chen, positively cackling. "How dare you doubt my disciple? Hmph! Purple-gold light, just look at it! This is obviously an unprecedented achievement!"

"Please. Consider your decorum." Lang Feilang said it hollowly, without much hope of being obeyed. She already knew that if her own disciple had ever pulled off something never once seen in this tower, her ego would rival Mount Tai too.

That alone said something about how restrained Ling Xin usually was.

Hong Zeiling's voice turned solemn. "In every recorded use of the Origin Orb Trial, the highest phenomenon on record was golden light. Even the Sect Master himself, on his first entry into the tower, only produced a deep golden beam."

He Shou's eyes went round as saucers. "He surpassed the Sect Master's record?"

"It sounds that way..." Lou Ren drawled, dragging the words out like he still didn't quite believe them.

"Monsters. This batch produced two damn monsters, especially with how they keep one-upping each other." He Shou finally threw up his hands, unable to hold it in any longer.

"Yes. Go on, praise him more." Ling Xin leaned back in her chair, positively radiating smugness. "I told you all to trust the process."

"And who was the one with her eyes glued to the water mirror the whole time, worrying?" Lang Feilang shot her a sidelong look.

Facing that glance, Ling Xin couldn't keep up the "it was all part of my plan" look anymore.

"S-shaddup." Ling Xin sputtered, then recovered fast. "I was just building suspense. Yes. That's what that was."

"Were you, now?" Lang Feilang just sighed, unconvinced.

"What kind of technique could produce purple-gold light?" the young elder asked, still staring at the fading beam.

"I can't say for certain." Hong Zeiling sighed, looking oddly weary for a man who'd just witnessed history. "From what I know, to earn a full silver or gold rating, a disciple must create an original technique of their own." Even after all these years, the founder's tower still found new ways to humble him.

"Oh, I know. Ning must have cooked up some mighty destructive technique, a fist art, probably, something like that." He Shou nodded along to his own theory, quite pleased with it.

"Old man! My disciple isn't as single-minded as you." Ling Xin shot him a look. "He's always liked techniques that were more than they appeared to be." She paused, reconsidering. "Which is rather ironic, actually, since he likes his scriptures and techniques as straightforward as possible."

"Ah, the duality of a cultivator." Lou Ren tapped his fan back open. His face didn't betray the dumbfoundedness he'd shown earlier, as though that had never happened. Being visibly speechless was something for someone like He Shou, not him.

"You people really don't understand that simple is best." He Shou huffed, crossing his arms.

"I feel like Ling Xin is right. It should be something more than just a destructive technique." Hong Zeiling waved off Ling Xin's triumphant smirk aimed squarely at He Shou and pressed on. "There are several ways the tower judges a technique. It could be the foundation, the originality, the compatibility, the potential, even the danger of it. A technique can be entirely incomplete and still receive a high evaluation, so long as the path ahead of it runs vast enough."

He exhaled slowly.

"A technique that draws purple-gold light at Qi Condensation... if this isn't some error, then the tower believes whatever Ning has created is either truly extraordinary, or holds potential beyond what any of us can currently measure."

...

Inside the sealed chamber, the purple-gold light slowly faded.

Ning opened his eyes.

For several breaths, he did not move.

His mind still echoed with the feeling of that single circle spinning inside his dantian. The simulation had ended, but the memory remained painfully clear. A ring of qi suspended within the qi sea. A rotation that gathered, refined, and nourished itself with time. A power that did not rush to be used, but waited, deepened, and grew heavier with every revolution.

Golden text hovered before him.

[INFINITE CIRCLE]

[A single circle of qi gathers within the dantian.]

[As the circle revolves, spiritual energy is nourished, refined, and accumulated over time.]

[The longer the circle is maintained, the heavier the stored force becomes.]

[When released, any technique, martial art, or strike infused with this qi shall be greatly strengthened.]

[DIRECT POWER: DEPENDENT ON ACCUMULATION.]

[STABILITY: HIGH.]

[POTENTIAL: EXTREME.]

Ning stared at the evaluation, then slowly inhaled.

The simulation had succeeded.

He had made his second technique. And unlike Spiral Arrow, this one was far more sophisticated.

"Now is the moment of truth." Ning had succeeded in the illusion, and had even stress-tested it across hundreds of trials to make it as harmless as possible.

The Origin Orb could test possibilities, but his real body was still his real body. His meridians, his dantian, his qi control, his pain tolerance, his flesh, all of it now had to bear the truth of what he'd created.

Ning sat cross-legged. His expression turned serious.

"Start small."

He drew a thin strand of qi from his dantian. Barely a thread of it.

If the completed technique in the simulation had been a river whirlpool, then what he formed now was no more than a ripple in a cup of tea.

Still, Ning did not dare be careless.

He guided the qi into a circular motion at the center of his dantian. The ring was extremely thin, almost invisible even to his inner vision. It spun slowly, suspended within the qi sea, not touching the walls of the dantian and not pressing into the meridians.

One revolution.

Two revolutions.

Three.

Ning's brows tightened.

Pressure was rising.

His dantian trembled slightly as the ring tried to widen. He immediately cooled its outer edge with the principle of Hidden Ice Mist, restrained its leakage with Turtle Breathing, and let only tiny droplets of qi enter from the surrounding sea.

The ring stabilized, continuing to revolve at its own pace.

Ning opened his eyes. A faint smile appeared on his face.

[Martial Arts: Infinite Circle (Mastery)]

"It works."

The words were soft.

But his chest rose with something close to triumph.

Not because the technique was already heaven-defying, that would just be a lie.

Right now, the circle was thin enough that releasing it might only strengthen a spear thrust by a small margin. But that was not the true value of Infinite Circle.

The true value was that it could grow.

As long as the circle remained stable, every revolution nourished the qi inside it. The longer it turned, the heavier the stored force became. The technique didn't demand that he stand still and charge dramatically in front of an enemy like some heroic idiot inviting an interruption. It could exist quietly inside his dantian while he walked, hid, fought, farmed, or pretended not to be involved in someone else's disaster.

There was no obvious wait time before release.

If he needed to use it early, he could.

If he had time to let it accumulate, it would grow stronger.

That alone made it priceless.

Of course, there were disadvantages.

Ning wasn't drunk enough on success to ignore them.

First, Infinite Circle was fine-tuned for his constitution.

The Origin Orb had built the technique around him. His dantian capacity, meridian strength, qi attributes, body tempering, Icy Meridian foundation, Turtle Breathing control, Hidden Ice Mist cooling, Scorching Purge refinement, and Cold River Spear rhythm had all been factored in.

In other words, this was not a general-purpose manual.

If an ordinary disciple copied the route blindly, the best-case outcome would be failure.

The worst-case outcome would be becoming a decorative stain on the meditation mat, just like Ning had in the pale world.

Second, the circle could not be maintained forever.

Despite the grand name, Infinite Circle was not truly infinite.

Not yet, at least.

The longer the qi revolved, the stronger and heavier it became. That was the advantage. It was also the danger. If Ning allowed it to accumulate beyond what his dantian could withstand, he'd have to release it or disperse it before the pressure damaged him.

For now, he could only maintain a very thin circle for a limited time.

As his cultivation rose and his body strengthened, that time would increase. His dantian would grow broader. His meridians would grow tougher. His control would deepen. One day, perhaps, he could maintain the circle for days, weeks, months, or even permanently.

Until then, the word "infinite" was more aspiration than fact.

Ning didn't mind.

All techniques had to start somewhere.

Third, the release route still placed strain on the body.

He could accumulate qi in the dantian safely enough, but when he released it through his meridians into a spear, arrow, fist, or spell, the route had to bear the sudden force. If his body was weak, the technique would injure him before it injured the enemy.

At that thought, Ning couldn't help feeling grateful for Jade Skin and Icy Meridians.

Without the strengthened meridians from that body-tempering method, Infinite Circle would have remained a beautiful way to cripple himself.

"But then again, I built this technique because I practiced this body-building art." Ning understood himself, and in doing so, he grew further.

The advantages, however, were terrifying.

Every technique infused with Infinite Circle qi would be supercharged.

A Cold River Spear thrust could strike with hidden accumulated force.

A Fireball would explode harder.

Hidden Ice Mist could spread wider and colder.

And most importantly of all, his strongest attacking technique Lightning Cry Arrow would finally be able to scratch even the mightiest of qi condensation disciple.

Even techniques that normally drained too much qi to use repeatedly could be powered by accumulated force instead of relying only on his immediate reserves.

It was not merely a trump card. It could act as a hidden reservoir, a way to store effort and release it at the decisive moment.

For a cultivator like Ning, who followed the Dao of preparation as much as anything else, it was perfect.

Ning looked inward again.

The thin circle continued to revolve quietly in his dantian. It was small and fragile and, oh, so hungry.

He carefully fed it another droplet of qi. The ring didn't change significantly, but Ning knew it had, and the panel reflected that understanding.

[Infinite Circle: Accumulating (1/100)]

A hundred was the point where his current body could not bear the strain.

Ning smiled. "Good."

Then the sealed barrier around him began to fade.

The final evaluation had ended.

Ning could see seven beams of light.

He was not surprised to see that the golden one belonged to Xiao Fan, or that the faintly silver one belonged to Lei Dong, who was obviously the big bad of this presumable arc.

Similarly, from the previous trial, he understood that Lang Rulang was also not to be underestimated. Her silver glow was second only to Lei Dong's.

The others, aside from the top three, only had bronze beams. All of them were a very deep-colored bronze, but bronze nonetheless.

The result was clear.

Lei Dong stood beneath the silver beam, his robes still carrying traces of flickering purple lightning. His expression was far from relaxed. Although he had passed, he had not surpassed Xiao Fan. Worse, he had not surpassed Ji Ning. The silver light above him should have been an honor, but under the pressure of purple-gold and golden-white, it looked more like a reminder that he had fallen short.

His fists clenched inside his sleeves.

Xiao Fan, on the other hand, sat on the floor beneath his golden-white radiance, swaying slightly with a satisfied grin on his face. He was pleased with his ranking.

As for whether he was surprised by Ning's better performance? Not really. In his mind, he'd always considered Ji Ning a genius. Especially since this trial favored Ning's expertise, it only seemed fitting.

He wondered if the last trial would be a free-for-all; he'd always wanted to test his strength against this elusive guy.

Ning, meanwhile, was just chilling, none the wiser that the protagonist wanted to fight him.

Around them, the others slowly understood.

The final three had been decided.

Lang Rulang looked at the fading light above her own arena. Her expression remained cold, but her fingers rested lightly on the hilt of her sword. Wind curled around her blade, quieter than before, yet more flexible, circling back on itself rather than rushing blindly forward.

She had failed to advance. But she had not failed completely.

Lang Rulang turned to Ning who she felt approaching her. "Don't try to comfort me like Zhang Feng and the others. I simply gave my best, but it wasn't enough."

"I wasn't going to. Who doesn't know sister Lang is strong? A minor setback like this would obviously be nothing to her." Ning smiled.

"Hmph." She turned her face away. A long beat of silence passed before she spoke again, quieter this time. "I improved the Falling Gale Sequence."

Ning blinked. He wasn't entirely sure why she was telling him that, of all people, but he nodded anyway. "That's great. Next time we fight, I would have to work even harder to defeat you."

"I will win next time." Lang Rulang's gaze drifted to the purple-gold light still fading above him. "So don't you dare lose to anyone else before I get my turn."

Ning blinked again. "That might be the most aggressive well-wish I've ever received."

"Take it however you like."

Before he could get another word in, golden light gathered beneath her feet, and the tower's return formation swallowed her whole.

On the other side, Qiu Han stood in front of Xiao Fan, arms crossed, looking like a man personally insulted by the concept of failure.

"You didn't pass?" Xiao Fan asked, scratching his head.

Qiu Han gave him a look that could only be described as bruh. "You have zero tact. None. Not a shred."

To be fair, asking that question to the guy who just lost, right after you topped the entire trial, was a special kind of clueless.

"I don't really do comfort," Xiao Fan admitted, shrugging. "So you'll just have to survive this conversation as-is."

Qiu Han stared at him. Genuinely, this was uncomfortable. He'd spent years thinking of himself as the socially stunted one after crawling out of his whole "fate decides everything" phase, and somehow this guy still managed to be worse.

Xiao Fan's expression shifted, turning surprisingly serious. "You were strong out there. I mean it."

"I know," Qiu Han said flatly.

"...You really don't know how to accept a compliment gracefully, do you?"

"Grace has nothing to do with whether it's true."

Qiu Han's eyes flicked toward Ning for half a second before locking back onto Xiao Fan.

"You beat me once already."

Xiao Fan's grin dimmed a notch.

"That loss was mine," Qiu Han went on. "I thought speed and talent alone would carry me. I overreached. You saw the gap and you took it."

"...Ning's the one who actually pointed that gap out to me," Xiao Fan admitted, scratching his cheek.

"I know that too."

Qiu Han's voice didn't waver.

"Which is exactly why I won't make that mistake twice."

He stepped in close, meeting Xiao Fan's golden eyes head-on.

"So climb higher. If you stall out here, my loss meant nothing."

Xiao Fan's grin came roaring back, fierce as ever.

"Then I guess I'll just have to keep climbing."

If there was one thing anyone could bet money on, it was that.

Qiu Han gave one short nod, and vanished.

Ning watched the exchange from the side and quietly muttered, "Rivals are troublesome creatures."

Xiao Fan turned. "What was that?"

"Nothing." Ning just shook his head. Protagonist and their inability to hear a whisper under breath even though they have practically superhuman senses. Typical.

Lei Dong's cold voice cut in from behind them.

"How sappy you peasants are."

Ning turned and saw Lei Dong standing beneath the silver beam, his face dark, his eyes full of suppressed lightning.

Ah, right.

He'd almost forgotten the active plot hook.

Lei Dong's gaze swept over Xiao Fan first, then landed on Ning.

"Don't think producing a golden light means you're above me."

"Well, you've gotta justify your losses somehow." Xiao Fan spoke sharply.

"Why you-" Lei Dong narrowed his eyes.

But clearly it wasn't the time, as the ancient voice descended before the tension could sharpen further.

[FINAL RANKING CONFIRMED.]

[FIRST: JI NING.]

[SECOND: XIAO FAN.]

[THIRD: LEI DONG.]

The light of the tower swallowed them.

When Ning opened his eyes again, the jade hall, the Origin Orbs, and the fading purple-gold radiance had all vanished.

Before him stood three doors.

It was clear they were meant for the three of them.

Each door was made of dark bronze, engraved with countless fine lines that shifted like living veins. There was no over-the-top decoration, but one couldn't shake the heavy feeling that came from simply looking at them.

Then the ancient voice descended.

[FIFTH TRIAL.]

[THE ECHOING PATH.]

[WHAT HAS BEEN SHOWN SHALL NOT BE FORGOTTEN.]

[WHAT HAS BEEN RELIED UPON SHALL BE WEIGHED.]

[WHAT HAS BEEN HIDDEN SHALL BE DRAWN OUT.]

[STEP FORWARD.]

[BREAK THE LIMIT THAT FOLLOWS YOU.]

[ONLY THOSE WHO PASS BEYOND THEIR OWN SHADOW MAY SEEK THE FINAL INHERITANCE.]

[ENTER THE DOOR.]

"Sucks to suck, losers. I'm going first." Lei Dong didn't so much as pause before shouldering his door open, clearly done sharing air with two people he couldn't stand a second longer than necessary.

He vanished through it without a backward glance.

Xiao Fan turned to Ning. "Guess we're all doing this one solo, huh."

"Seems like it." Ning nodded, still turning the tower's words over in his head.

"Well then! Last trial. Bring it on." Xiao Fan cracked his knuckles, practically vibrating. "I really hope this one's even more interesting than the last—"

"Please don't finish that sentence."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Because that's exactly how you summon Murphy."

"...Who's Murphy?"

"Nobody you need to worry about." Ning gave up right there, some battles weren't worth fighting, and explaining Murphy's Law to a Xianxia protagonist was clearly one of them. "Go on ahead. I'll follow in a minute or two. Want to walk in at my best, not my 'just got done arguing with Lei Dong' state."

Xiao Fan raised an eyebrow, surprised, but shrugged it off easily enough. "Your call."

"Good luck out there."

"You too." Xiao Fan flashed one last grin, shoved open the center door, and strode through.

Ning lowered himself to the ground, took a slow breath, and read through the trial's words one more time.

"Beyond one's shadow, huh?" His eyes narrowed.

...

The moment Xiao Fan set foot across the threshold, the door behind him disappeared.

The world changed.

He stood in a vast circular arena of black stone. Beyond the arena, there was nothing else.

The ground beneath his feet was smooth but covered in old cracks, as though countless disciples had fought here before him, each leaving behind a trace of their struggle.

"Is it empty?" Xiao Fan muttered, looking around.

Then the ancient voice descended.

[DEFEAT YOUR OPPONENT TO PASS.]

At the opposite side of the arena, shadows gathered.

Xiao Fan's eyes narrowed.

A figure walked out of the darkness. Only the echoes of his steps could be heard.

At first, it was only a vague outline. Then the outline sharpened. Shoulders formed. Arms formed. Torn disciple robes appeared.

A figure stood before him, its face surprisingly familiar.

Then, for an instant, Xiao Fan's breath hitched.

Standing opposite him was himself.

Another Xiao Fan.

"Wha—?" Xiao Fan was at a loss for words. What the hell was going on?

Then he noticed something, the "Xiao Fan" opposite him wore an expression so empty, unlike his own.

A puppet?

[DEFEAT YOURSELF.]

"Wow, couldn't have guessed it otherwise." Xiao Fan spoke sarcastically. He was a little rattled by what he saw. "Anyway, I just need to beat the puppet, right?"

Xiao Fan took a deep breath and moved first.

But the moment he saw golden qi gather around the puppet's fist, his instincts flared like a struck bell. He didn't wait for the other him to finish preparing. His foot slammed against the black stone, cracks spreading beneath his heel as his body shot forward.

Heaven-Shattering Fist gathered around his right hand.

Golden light wrapped around his knuckles, rough and fierce, carrying the same stubborn momentum that had smashed through so many opponents before. Xiao Fan threw the punch straight ahead, without hesitation, without retreat, aiming directly for the puppet's chest.

The puppet also stepped forward in the same stance, its fist shining with the same golden light.

The two fists collided.

Boom!

A circular shockwave burst outward from the center of the arena. The black stone beneath their feet cracked in a wide ring, dust rising like smoke from a battlefield. Xiao Fan felt the force travel up his arm, numbing his knuckles, shaking his bones, and pushing him back half a step.

The puppet also slid back half a step.

For one breath, they stared at each other.

Xiao Fan's eyes brightened. "Even the strength is the same, huh?"

The puppet said nothing, but its eyes remained as vacant as before.

Xiao Fan grinned and rushed again.

It didn't matter if the opponent had the same specs as him, he just needed to go harder and stronger.

This time, he didn't use a single heavy blow. His fists came in a storm. One punch to the chest, one to the shoulder, one toward the jaw, then a low kick aimed at the knee. Each attack was direct, brutal, and filled with the will to push forward no matter what stood in his way.

The puppet answered every strike.

Fist met fist.

Palm struck wrist.

Knee checked knee.

Their bodies collided again and again, sending shockwaves rolling across the arena. Xiao Fan's fighting style had always been simple at its core. Advance. Endure. Strike harder. If the enemy blocked, break the block. If the enemy dodged, chase. If the enemy was stronger, become stronger in the middle of the fight.

The puppet knew that style perfectly.

Because it was his.

For the first dozen exchanges, neither side gained the advantage. Xiao Fan activated his golden Pure Eyes, and the world sharpened before him. The puppet's breathing, the movement of its shoulder, the line of force in its fist, all of it became clearer.

Then the puppet's golden eyes lit up as well.

Xiao Fan saw the change and clicked his tongue. "Even this, huh?"

He stepped in, twisting his waist and throwing a heavy right punch toward the puppet's ribs.

The puppet read the movement at the same time.

Instead of blocking directly, it turned its body half an inch. That tiny movement caused Xiao Fan's fist to slide across its side instead of landing cleanly. Before Xiao Fan could withdraw, the puppet's elbow dropped like a hammer onto his forearm.

Pain shot up Xiao Fan's arm.

His wrist dipped.

The puppet's left fist immediately rose from below and struck his ribs.

Crack.

Xiao Fan's breath caught.

He staggered back, teeth clenched, golden light flickering around his fist.

"...Different." The exchange was different.

Until now, the puppet had just been copying him move for move, but this time it acted differently.

It hadn't merely copied him. It had taken his own attack and made it cleaner.

Xiao Fan's expression grew serious.

The puppet stepped forward.

It didn't rush wildly, nor did it waste movement. Each step was placed exactly where it needed to be, each shift of weight smaller than Xiao Fan's, each attack beginning without any unnecessary flare of qi.

Xiao Fan's fists were like rocks thrown by a mountain.

The puppet's fists were like the same rocks placed into a sling.

Same, but different.

With the same abilities, the puppet was faster, stronger, and better.

Xiao Fan roared and activated the Heavenly Body Tempering Art.

Pale-golden patterns spread beneath his skin like lotus roots growing through flesh. His bones hummed, his muscles tightened, and the phantom of a heavenly lotus appeared behind him. His body grew tougher, his endurance rising through the roof.

He charged forward again.

The puppet activated the same art.

The same lotus pattern appeared behind it as the same golden strength filled its limbs.

Xiao Fan struck first.

The puppet did not retreat. It let the punch land against its shoulder, but at the moment of impact, the golden lotus pattern beneath its skin brightened. The blow didn't fully disperse, part of the force sank into the puppet's body and flowed through its stance.

Then the puppet twisted.

It used the force of Xiao Fan's own punch to strengthen its counter.

A fist slammed into Xiao Fan's abdomen.

Boom!

Xiao Fan flew backward, his feet scraping across the stone before he forced himself to stop. Blood rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down.

His eyes widened slightly.

"How?"

Until now, he'd always used the Heavenly Lotus Body Tempering Art to endure, but the puppet had shown him something entirely different.

The puppet used it to borrow force.

Before he could think further, the puppet vanished from his direct line of sight, not through any movement art, but through a sudden shift in rhythm. It stepped into his blind spot, low and close, its shoulder already driving toward his chest.

Xiao Fan reacted by instinct.

His body bent at an unnatural angle, his spine twisting like a snake. The puppet's shoulder strike passed by his chest, missing by a hair. This was one of his bloodline abilities, a flexibility that allowed him to move in ways normal cultivators couldn't.

Xiao Fan's fist came down from above.

The puppet's body twisted the same way.

But unlike Xiao Fan, it didn't only use the movement to dodge.

Its arm curled around Xiao Fan's wrist.

For half a breath, Xiao Fan felt as if his hand had been caught in a living coil.

The puppet pulled.

Xiao Fan's center of gravity shifted.

Then a knee crashed into his chest.

Bang!

His body folded slightly from the impact. Before he could recover, the puppet's palm struck his shoulder, forcing his arm open, and another fist smashed across his jaw.

Xiao Fan hit the ground and rolled.

Stone scraped across his back.

He slapped one palm against the arena floor and pushed himself up, but the puppet was already approaching.

Its movements had long since transcended those of a mere puppet and become something more.

Xiao Fan wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "You're using my own tricks better than me."

The puppet didn't answer, as expected.

Xiao Fan's aura surged.

Pain began to burn through his body. The bruises, the cracked ribs, the torn muscles, all of them became fuel. His bloodline abilities stirred, turning injury into strength. His golden qi grew fiercer, and the pressure around him rose.

He stepped forward with a grin.

"Then copy this."

He exploded into motion.

His fist came down with enough force to split stone.

The puppet's body also changed.

Its wounds lit with the same power.

But there was a difference.

Xiao Fan's injury-empowerment ability surged like a fire fed by oil, fierce and wild. The puppet's version burned like a controlled furnace. It didn't let the pain scatter its rhythm. It didn't let the increased strength pull its strikes out of alignment. Each movement became sharper, stronger, and more efficient.

They clashed again.

This time, Xiao Fan was the one pushed back.

His enhanced fist met the puppet's enhanced fist, but the puppet adjusted its wrist at the last moment, causing Xiao Fan's force to slide slightly off-center. That tiny difference was enough. The puppet's blow landed cleanly, while Xiao Fan's lost a fraction of its power.

A fraction.

In a battle between equals, a fraction was enough to become a wound.

The puppet pressed forward.

Punch.

Palm.

Elbow.

Knee.

Each strike flowed into the next. Xiao Fan blocked some, endured others, and countered whenever he could. But the puppet adapted faster than he could breathe. If Xiao Fan ducked under a punch once, the next punch came lower. If he blocked with his forearm, the puppet struck the elbow joint. If he used his golden eyes to predict the next blow, the puppet changed its rhythm halfway through the movement.

It wasn't only copying techniques, it was also learning from him.

No, worse.

It had already learned from him.

The previous trials had been the record. Every reckless charge, every desperate counterattack, every time Xiao Fan had unleashed his techniques, all of it had become fuel for this thing.

Xiao Fan tried to create distance.

The puppet followed.

He tried to force a direct clash.

The puppet angled away.

He tried to use a bloodline-ability burst to overpower it. The puppet used the same burst with better timing.

He tried to gather qi into his fist.

The puppet's golden eyes flashed.

Its foot struck the ground, and its body shot forward before the third layer could even form.

A palm hit Xiao Fan's wrist, and the gathered qi trembled and cracked. Then a fist slammed into his chest, scattering the rest of the power before it could stabilize.

Xiao Fan coughed blood and staggered back.

"Final Star Break—"

He tried again.

The puppet interrupted again.

This time, it didn't merely stop him, it began forming the same technique itself.

Golden qi gathered around the puppet's fist.

First layer.

Second layer.

Third.

Xiao Fan's pupils contracted.

The previous trial had been a trap. Though it had looked simple, only now did Xiao Fan realize the tower had played him.

The puppet's fist glowed deeply. The layers of qi wrapped around one another with terrifying steadiness. Xiao Fan had created Final Star Break through instinct and repeated trial. The puppet formed it like a craftsman assembling a weapon.

Xiao Fan rushed forward to stop it.

The puppet raised its other arm and blocked.

Heavenly Body Tempering Art absorbed the force.

The layers on its fist did not collapse.

Fourth layer.

Fifth.

Sixth.

The air around the puppet's fist grew heavy.

Xiao Fan clenched his teeth and threw Heaven-Shattering Fist with everything he had.

The puppet stepped in, tanking the attack.

Then it released.

Final Star Break.

Golden light erupted.

It pierced forward, dense and concentrated, a pillar of force compressed into a single line.

Xiao Fan crossed both arms in front of him.

The blow struck.

For a moment, his entire world went white as his body flew backward like a broken arrow.

He crashed into the arena wall, and black stone shattered behind him. The impact forced the air from his lungs. His arms shook uncontrollably. Blood ran down from his forehead, over his brow, and into one eye.

He slid down the wall and dropped to one knee.

The puppet lowered its fist. Its expression remained empty.

There wasn't an ounce of thought behind those eyes.

That was what made it terrifying.

It was simply proving that everything Xiao Fan had shown so far could be done better.

Xiao Fan's fingers dug into the cracked stone.

"...I won't give up." Xiao Fan forced himself up, the heavenly lotus body working at full capacity to recover what it could.

The puppet came again.

Xiao Fan met it with a roar, despite all his injuries.

They collided at the center of the arena.

The fight became uglier.

Xiao Fan threw himself forward with everything he had, each punch carrying blood, anger, and refusal to lose. The puppet received it, corrected it, and returned it.

When Xiao Fan attacked with raw strength, the puppet used structure.

When Xiao Fan relied on pain to grow stronger, the puppet used pain without losing control.

When Xiao Fan used flexibility, the puppet turned flexibility into locking techniques.

When Xiao Fan used Heaven-Shattering Fist, the puppet struck the weak point in his stance before the force peaked.

The black arena rang with impact after impact.

Xiao Fan's shoulder dislocated.

He slammed it back into place and continued.

His ribs cracked.

He breathed through the pain and punched.

His left eye swelled, blood trickling through the lashes.

He blinked away the blood and charged again.

The puppet's fist struck his abdomen.

He spat blood.

The puppet's knee slammed into his jaw.

He staggered.

The puppet's palm hit his chest.

He fell down.

For a moment, Xiao Fan lay on his back, staring at the pale, empty sky.

His breathing came in broken gasps.

The arena felt endless, and the puppet unsurmountable.

The puppet's footsteps approached slowly.

Step.

Step.

Step.

Was this my limit? Xiao Fan thought, his mind reeling from the pain.

Xiao Fan tried to move his fingers; they trembled slightly.

He tried to push himself up, but his arm nearly gave out.

The puppet stopped a few steps away.

Golden qi began gathering around its fist again.

Final Star Break.

Xiao Fan stared at the light through his swollen eyes.

And suddenly, he remembered another kind of light.

The sunlight in his clan's courtyard.

The day his spiritual root was tested.

The day the faces around him changed.

Before that day, people had called him young master. They had smiled when he passed by. They had praised his spirit, his courage, his stubbornness. They had told him he would carry the family name one day.

Then the unthinkable happened.

Low-grade, defective spiritual root.

Not only was his spiritual root the weakest, it also carried a defect that made it impossible to use.

That was when the new labels began.

Trash. Waste. Unworthy.

He remembered standing there, small and stiff, while the adults spoke as if his future had already ended. He remembered the cousins who had once followed him suddenly looking away. He remembered how quickly warmth turned into distance.

So he trained.

If his spiritual root was weak, he would train his body.

At dawn, he punched the wooden posts until his knuckles split. At noon, he carried stones around the courtyard until his shoulders shook. At night, when others cultivated in quiet rooms, he sat alone and dragged thin strands of qi through his broken pathways, one breath at a time, feeling each strand leak away before it could truly gather.

Again and again.

He trained until his palms bled. He trained until his arms could no longer rise. He trained until even the servants who pitied him stopped watching because the sight had become too uncomfortable.

But effort didn't erase the limit.

That was the cruelest part.

He became stronger than he'd been yesterday, but the wall remained.

He punched harder, ran farther, endured longer, yet when he looked at those who could actually cultivate, a month of his pain could be crossed by someone else in mere days.

Low-grade, defective spiritual root.

That was his ceiling.

That was his cage.

That was the line everyone else saw when they looked at him.

Even after he found fortune, even after his spiritual root was healed, even after he clawed his way into the Pure Qi Sect and stood before enemies stronger than himself, that invisible line still followed him.

You are only this much.

You can only reach this far.

You can struggle, but you cannot cross.

And now the tower had given that limit a body.

The puppet before him was not merely another Xiao Fan. It was Xiao Fan as the tower understood him. It had all his strength, his habits, his instincts, his techniques at the peak that he could wield them.

Everything he had shown, copied and polished. Everything he relied upon, refined and returned. It was the better version of the Xiao Fan who had walked into this arena.

So if he fought with the same fists, he would lose.

Because all of that still belonged to the Xiao Fan whose limit had already been recorded.

The puppet raised its golden fist.

Final Star Break gathered upon its knuckles, beautiful yet merciless.

Xiao Fan's fingers dug into the cracked stone.

His body screamed. His ribs burned. His shoulder throbbed. Blood dripped from his chin and splashed against the ground.

For a moment, he almost laughed.

So this was the tower's terror.

It showed him the best version of the path he already knew, then asked if he could walk beyond it.

Xiao Fan's breathing slowed. The fury in his golden eyes did not vanish.

"So that's it," he whispered.

This was his limit. His strongest had not been enough.

Xiao Fan closed his eyes.

He only had a single choice: Give up.

But would he do so?

No.

Xiao Fan stood up, slowly but surely. "...Limits? Don't make me laugh."

The golden lotus patterns beneath his skin appeared again. They were dimmer than before, damaged and flickering, but they didn't scatter. The demon-subduing sutra stirred, gathering under his control.

The tower had copied everything he had shown.

Then he would become something it had never seen.

Xiao Fan lowered his stance. "I'll surpass my limits right here, right now."

The puppet's Final Star Break descended.

Xiao Fan stepped forward to meet it.

...

Inside the observation hall, the elders watched the water-mirror with focused expressions.

Then He Shou burst out laughing.

"There it is! There's the face!"

In the mirror, Xiao Fan had just seen his doppelgänger for the first time, and his expression was caught between shock, disbelief, and dumbfoundedness to the point of speechlessness.

Lou Ren's fan moved lazily. "You enjoy this part too much."

"Of course I do," He Shou said. "Every generation, the arrogant ones, the proud ones, the quiet ones, the geniuses, the hardworking brats, they all make the same face when the puppet walks out."

The young elder looked uneasy. "This trial seems cruel."

"It is cruel," Hong Zeiling said calmly. "That is why very few have ever passed."

The water-mirror split into three scenes.

Xiao Fan was being battered across the black arena by a version of himself that grew cleaner and sharper with every exchange.

Zhou Chen laughed at the sight. "Good! Good! Xiao Fan is finally being beaten black and blue. Let that brat understand what true difficulty is."

He Shou shot him a sideways glance. "Lei Dong is also getting pummeled."

Lei Dong stood in another arena, purple lightning roaring around him as his own doppelgänger walked through the thunder palm's aftershock with cold precision. The puppet raised its hand, formed a smaller Purple Heaven Thunder Palm, and struck the exact weakness in Lei Dong's technique. Lightning exploded backward through Lei Dong's arm, sending him skidding across the ground.

Lei Dong's face twisted with rage.

Zhou Chen's expression darkened. "Lei Dong is merely testing the puppet."

The flavour agenda was strong on this one.

In the mirror, Lei Dong was struck in the chest by his own thunder palm and slammed into the arena wall.

He Shou nodded seriously. "A very thorough test indeed."

Hong Zeiling ignored them and continued explaining for the young elder.

"The Self-Surpassing Trial creates a battle puppet based on everything the disciple has revealed in the previous trials, techniques, martial arts, movement habits, combat instincts, flaws, reactions, preferred timing, even tendencies under pressure. The puppet begins as an imitation."

The young elder watched Xiao Fan's puppet counter his technique with terrifying precision.

"Begins?"

"Yes," Hong Zeiling said. "The longer the fight lasts, the more it adapts. It doesn't merely copy the disciple, it refines what it copies. If the disciple uses a technique crudely, the puppet will gradually use it more efficiently. If the disciple repeats a habit, the puppet will punish it. If the disciple relies on instinct, the puppet will learn the pattern behind that instinct. Eventually, it will even start dishing out combinations the disciple would never think of."

The young elder's face paled. "Then how does one win?"

Lou Ren closed his fan. "By surpassing oneself."

The words sounded simple.

That made them even more terrifying.

Hong Zeiling nodded. "One must either discover a new realm of understanding during the fight, abandon an old weakness, or display a method the tower hasn't yet fully recorded. Otherwise, the puppet only grows stronger."

"This is why it's called an impossible trial," He Shou said, finally losing some of his joking tone. "Most disciples don't lose because the puppet starts stronger. They lose because the puppet becomes what they could be if every flaw were polished away."

The young elder swallowed. "Has anyone passed?"

Hong Zeiling was silent for a moment.

"Only the current Sect Master."

The observation hall quieted.

"Even he nearly failed," Hong Zeiling continued. "According to the records, he reached an epiphany on the spot and refined his sword heart mid-battle. Only by stepping beyond what the tower had recorded could he defeat the puppet."

The young elder looked back at the three mirrors.

Xiao Fan was bleeding, and Lei Dong was furious.

These were the cream of the crop of this generation, and even then, both were being driven back.

"But not all is bad. After this trial, they'll once again be able to obtain an inheritance, the final one, and supposedly the most significant." Hong Zeiling added this, seeing the growing paleness in the young elder.

"...But I think hardly anyone could pass, to get this far, if even the Sect Master struggled with all his talent." The young elder pitied them.

Zhou Chen sneered, trying to regain his composure. "Xiao Fan is finished. A low-grade spiritual root is still a low-grade spiritual root. No matter how lucky he is, he cannot surpass a puppet that keeps improving on him endlessly."

He Shou's expression turned cold.

Before he could speak, Lou Ren suddenly stopped moving his fan. "Hm?"

Ling Xin, who had been quiet until now, raised her eyes. "It seems my disciple is starting."

The elders turned toward the third mirror.

Until now, only Ji Ning had not yet entered.

"Finally! I wonder what he was doing." He Shou said. 

"I wonder the same." Lou Ren nodded. Compared to Xiao Fan, he felt Ning was more up to his speed. He actually appeared elegant and knew how to use his head.

"He was probably adjusting to his best state. Ning never really rushes through things." Ling Xin answered.

"Well, we've seen Xiao Fan and Lei Dong's attempts. Let's see if Ning can surpass his limits." Hong Zeiling added. Even he was not immune to eagerness to see how this disciple who had performed feat never seen before would act in face of desperateness.

In the mirror, the ancient voice descended over Ji Ning's arena.

[DEFEAT YOUR OPPONENT TO PASS.]

The shadows across the black arena stirred as a face began to take shape.

The elders leaned forward without realizing it.

They were ready to see Ji Ning's reaction.

Would he be shocked?

Would he be as dumbfounded as the other two, left speechless?

It was then, amid their anticipation, that Ning did something they'd never seen.

The instant the puppet's aura came alive, Ji Ning's sleeve snapped outward.

A fireball appeared before him.

No, it had already been there.

The elders realized it at the same time. That fireball hadn't been casually summoned in that instant. Its scarlet-gold surface rolled like molten glass, carrying the force of a spell that had been prepared with a full incantation in advance.

The fireball shot forward like a falling sun.

And before it even landed, Ji Ning's bow was already in his hand.

A Lightning Cry Arrow screamed after the fireball, wrapped in flickering lightning that tore through the air like a shrieking serpent.

Then came the third attack.

Then the fourth.

Then the fifth.

Hidden Ice Mist erupted across the field.

The ground beneath the puppet softened under Soil Refining.

Scorching Purge flashed through the mist.

Another Lightning Cry Arrow tore across the arena.

Then another.

Then another.

Spell after spell, arrow after arrow, he poured everything into the figure without giving it a single breath to stabilize. He was blasting the puppet with everything he had and more.

Inside the observation hall, every elder went silent.

He Shou finally spoke. "Can he do that?"

...

Thanks for reading and all your continued support~

A/N: You guys had already figured out the final trial so easily. So, probably not much of a surprise.