The stairs to the next pavilion were shorter than the first set, but Yan Qiu’s legs were already burning from the climb and the pressure trial. He walked with the other candidates who had passed, about eighty or ninety of them, and listened to the whispers around him.

  “How many more trials are there?”

  “I can barely stand. My legs feel like they are made of stone.”

  “Did you see that kid who lasted longest in the pressure test? Who even is he?”

  Yan Qiu kept his eyes forward and tried not to draw attention. He did not like being talked about.

  The pale girl was walking near him, her steps still light despite everything. She glanced over and said, “You did well back there.”

  “You too.”

  She smiled slightly and looked ahead without saying anything else. Yan Qiu appreciated that she did not push for conversation.

  They reached a larger pavilion after a few more minutes of climbing. This one was different from the first. Strange symbols covered the floor in spiraling patterns that made Yan Qiu’s eyes hurt if he looked at them too long. The air felt heavier here, almost thick enough to taste, and several candidates shivered as they stepped inside.

  “Something feels wrong,” a boy muttered while rubbing his arms.

  “My skin is crawling. What is this place?”

  Elder Bai Yun was already waiting at the center of the pavilion. He stood perfectly still with his hands clasped behind his back, and his eyes moved slowly across the gathered candidates.

  “This is the Illusion Pavilion,” he said.

  The candidates went quiet.

  “The third trial tests your mind. You will enter the formation and face your own heart. What you see inside is personal. No one else will know what you experience, and you will not know what others experience. This is between you and yourself.”

  Some candidates looked relieved at that. Others looked more nervous than before.

  “To pass, you must maintain your sense of self. The illusion will show you things, and those things will feel real. They will feel true. Your task is to remember who you are and break free before the time limit ends.” He paused and let his words sink in. “Those who cannot break free will be pulled out by the formation, but their score will reflect their failure. Those who break free quickly will score higher. Those who struggle will score lower.”

  “What kind of things will we see?” someone asked.

  Elder Bai Yun’s expression did not change. “That depends on you. The formation reads your heart and shows you what lives there. For some, it will be fear. For others, it will be desire. For others still, it will be something they did not know existed inside them.”

  Nobody asked any more questions.

  “Find a circle and sit. The trial begins now.”

  Yan Qiu found an empty formation circle and sat down cross-legged.

  The array activated the moment he closed his eyes. Golden light surrounded him, and the world shifted. He felt himself falling through darkness, tumbling without direction, and then everything stopped.

  He opened his eyes and found himself somewhere else.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The floating compound from his nightmare stretched out before him, the same one he had seen in his dreams. The pavilions hung in the sky and the gardens were immaculate and cultivators in fine robes walked the paths below. But this time it was different. He was not watching from outside.

  He was standing in the courtyard, and his hands were covered in blood.

  A cultivator was kneeling before him, trembling and begging. “Please, young lord, spare my family. They have done nothing wrong. I will accept any punishment, just please—”

  Yan Qiu tried to step back. He tried to speak, to say that he did not want this, but his body would not listen. His hand moved on its own, reaching forward, and he felt his fingers close around the man’s throat. He felt the warmth of the blood. He felt the bones crack beneath his grip.

  And he felt satisfaction.

  No.

  He killed another, and another. His body moved through the compound like a storm, and everywhere he went people died. He was laughing and the sound came from his own throat and he could not stop it no matter how hard he tried.

  This is not me. This is not—

  He crushed a skull beneath his palm and felt pleasure bloom in his chest. An elder was kneeling before him now, begging for the young generation, and Yan Qiu watched his own hand rise.

  The Void Collapsing Technique.

  He did not know what that was. He had never heard the name before. But his body knew it, and his hand moved through the motions without hesitation, and the pavilion folded inward like paper being crumpled. The screams cut off. And he felt peace.

  Part of him was screaming inside his own head.

  This is not me! I would never do this! I am Yan Qiu, I am from Blackroot, I am—

  But another part whispered back. This IS you. This is who you really are. You enjoyed it. You still enjoy it. Look at your hands. Look at what you did. And tell me you did not feel good.

  No!

  The illusion pulled him deeper. There were more deaths and more blood and more satisfaction that he could not deny no matter how much he wanted to. The two sides of him collided inside his mind, tearing at each other, and his sense of self began to crack.

  I am Yan Qiu. I am Yan Qiu. I am—

  No. You are a demon. You always were.

  The name hit him like a physical blow. He did not know that name. He had never heard it before in his life. But something inside him recognized it, responded to it, and for a moment he almost believed it was true.

  I AM YAN QIU!

  He remembered his mother’s face when she sold her hairpin. He remembered his father’s calloused hands lifting him onto his shoulders when he was small. He remembered the merchant who gave him coins when he had nothing, and Xu Liang’s stupid grin when he asked for meat buns, and the innkeeper’s quiet advice about reading opponents.

  I am Yan Qiu. I am NOT this.

  He forced his eyes open.

  The illusion shattered.

  Yan Qiu gasped and fell forward onto his hands.

  He was shaking badly and sweat was dripping from his face and his heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. He looked around and tried to remember where he was, and slowly the pavilion came back into focus.

  Some candidates were still trapped in the illusion, their faces twisted with fear or pain. Others had already broken free and were sitting with hollow eyes, looking like they had seen something they would never forget. A few were crying quietly.

  The pale girl was sitting calmly with her eyes open. She had passed easily, and her expression was as serene as if she had just woken from a pleasant nap.

  The rich kid in silk robes was curled up on the ground and whimpering while clutching his head. A disciple was trying to pull him out of the formation circle, but he would not let go.

  Yan Qiu looked down at his hands and saw that there was no blood.

  But he could still feel it, the warmth and the wetness and the satisfaction that had filled his chest when he killed those people.

  Why did that feel so real? Why did part of me want it?

  He did not have an answer.

  Elder Bai Yun was watching the candidates emerge from the illusion.

  His eyes lingered on Yan Qiu for a long moment, and something flickered in his expression that Yan Qiu could not read. Elder Shen stood beside him, frowning, and the two exchanged a look.

  They said nothing.

  Yan Qiu stood on shaky legs and moved to join the other candidates who had passed. His score was low. He knew that without being told. He had barely made it in time, had almost lost himself completely in whatever that was.

  The pale girl glanced at him as he approached. Her eyes were curious, but she did not ask any questions.

  “The fourth and final trial,” Elder Bai Yun announced. “Combat. Follow me.”

  The candidates who could still walk began moving toward the next set of stairs. Yan Qiu followed, his body exhausted and his mind still reeling from what he had seen.

  The illusion haunted him with every step, the blood on his hands and the pleasure in his chest and the name that had echoed through his mind.

  Demon.

  What am I?

  He did not have an answer, he was not sure if he wanted one.

  The trials were not over yet and one more was remaining.

  He pushed the questions aside and kept walking.