I walked slowly down the tunnel of the cavern.

The air inside flowed smoothly, and shafts of light filtered in from above in certain spots, keeping the space from falling into total darkness. The structure was masterfully crafted—it was clear this was the work of a true artisan.

As I continued deeper, I felt something shift.

Fsss...

In that moment, I understood. A high-level formation had activated—one so subtle that only a martial master with sharp senses could detect it.

Of course. It made sense now. Why did so many people who entered here never make it out? If the trials were too difficult, they could have just quit and turned back. But they didn’t. They died—trapped by this formation. You could walk in freely, but if you failed to pass the trial, the formation would lock down into a hellscape you’d never escape.

I walked for who knew how long—

Eventually, a wide plaza opened up before me.

At the entrance stood a stone tablet, etched with the rules of the first trial:

1. Defeat all enemies without using sword force or aura.
2. If you fail, you may try again in ten days.
3. If prepared, step into the red circle.

Ten days? What about food?

Looking around, I found a large clay jar filled to the brim with Starvation Pills.

Eat these tasteless lumps for ten days? I’d go insane.

I didn’t hesitate. I stepped into the red circle drawn at the center of the plaza.

A moment later—clack!—a mechanism triggered, and dozens of humanoid wooden dolls rose from the ground in all directions. The parts that needed to be cut were painted red—some had marks on their necks, others on their arms or legs.

My body reacted instinctively.

The moment they emerged, I leapt, and my instincts immediately determined which strikes to use and in what order.

Swish. Swish. Swish.

The wooden dolls were sliced down.

They didn’t stay fixed in place, either. The floor began to shift beneath them, moving their positions.

Some of the dolls started descending back into the floor.

No!

I knew what that meant. If I missed the ones going down, they’d never come back. Failing to cut them would mean failing the trial.

So I went for them first.

The other dolls moved in to block my path.

I vaulted over them and swung my sword.

Slice!

I barely managed to cut one of the descending dolls.

The dolls began to move faster. I’d assumed this trial was about footwork, but I was wrong. This was a test of judgment.

Which target to strike first?

Fast and accurate decision-making mattered more than movement.

The trial was complex, yes—but it wasn’t beyond my instincts or my skill.

In the end, I cut down every doll and passed the first trial.

One thing was certain: if I were still at my pre-regression level, I never would’ve made it. I would’ve jumped, rolled, and flailed all over the place—only to fail.

Now I understood why the next chance came ten days later.

Most challengers must’ve failed this trial the first time. They’d need at least ten days to reflect and rehearse. Only those who remembered how the dolls moved, which ones dropped first, and in what order, would have a chance at success. Those with dull minds probably needed to try again and again.

Now I understood why it was said the average time to clear the Lesser Heaven Cavern was three years.

Clack... rumble...

As I passed the first trial, a stone gate creaked open, leading to the second.

I slowly made my way toward it—then stopped.

Before exiting the plaza, I saw something scratched into the wall: messages from those who had come before me.

“Made it on the ninth try. Hahahaha!”
“Took me sixteen tries.”
“This is madness!”
“Thirty-seven tries. I wept when I finally made it.”
“Will I die here? I can’t solve this. Damn my father.”
“Damn it! Tried to turn back, but the way was sealed.”
“Success on the sixth attempt. I dare say I’m the best.”

And at the bottom, a very familiar handwriting.

“Idiots.”

My father. He’d written that.

He must’ve passed on the first try.

“Hahahaha…”

I couldn’t help but laugh. Of course Father would insult our ancestors like that, even though they technically came before him.

“Father, I passed on the first try too! Hahaha!”

Still laughing, I stepped into the second plaza.

Another stone tablet stood tall.

1. Use one of the swords mounted on the wall to cut the iron orb in two within two hours. Aura and sword force are allowed.
2. Fail, and you may try again in twenty days.
3. If prepared, step into the red circle.

This time, the wait between trials was twenty days.

Twice as long as the first. Which meant: twice as hard.

Survive on Starvation Pills for twenty days? I’d rather die.

I steeled myself and stepped into the red circle.

Clunk.

A stone pedestal rose from the floor. Atop it sat a metal orb, roughly the size of a human head.

So I’m supposed to cut this in half.

Two hours was way too long to cut just one orb. Which meant there was a hidden trick here.

I examined it carefully.

Its surface was smooth. Not metal, but synthetic stone. Denser and stronger than iron.

I tried to lift it—without channeling internal energy, it wouldn’t even budge.

The walls around me were lined with hundreds of swords. Every type imaginable. Long swords, short swords, heavy broadswords, lightweight blades, even soft whipswords meant to be worn at the waist.

The implication was clear: this would not be easy. Choose carefully. You could try as many times as needed.

I walked slowly along the wall and selected a standard iron blade.

Then I stood before the orb, focused my breathing, and swung down hard.

Clang!
The sword snapped clean in two. The orb didn’t even scratch.

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

I picked a new sword and tried a vertical strike this time.

Same result. Sword shattered. Orb untouched.

“It’s not happening with brute force.”

I retrieved another blade and channeled my energy into it.

Vvvvvmm...

The sword glowed blue as my aura surged through it. A shimmering wave of sword force—sword aura—rose from its edge.

Before regression, I’d only managed to use sword energy. I didn’t master sword aura until my thirties.

“So this is my first sword aura since regressing.”

Every martial artist’s aura glows a different color. Even when using the same techniques, the hues vary by person. I always thought that was fascinating.

My aura shimmered with a deep blue—sometimes like the sea, sometimes like the sky. I liked it. It felt good.

Just as I was about to slice the orb with my sword aura—

A sudden unease washed over me.

I quickly withdrew my energy. The aura faded from the blade.

Something’s off.

It felt too easy.

I initially thought this was a test to see whether the challenger could use sword aura. Since sword energy wouldn’t be enough, only someone who had achieved sword aura could pass. So until they reached that state, they’d be stuck.

But if someone already could use sword aura, this trial would be a breeze.

That imbalance didn’t sit right.

For someone who hadn’t awakened their aura, this trial would be nearly impossible.

But for someone who had, it would be absurdly simple.

That didn’t feel right. The balance was off.

So I went to check the wall where past challengers had carved their notes.

“Cut it in one stroke using sword aura.”

“Tried eighty-nine times to cut it without using sword aura. Failed every time. Ended up cutting it with aura in the end.”
“I cut it without using sword aura.”
“How the hell? I don’t believe it.”
“Damn it! My sword energy won’t cut it. I can’t produce sword aura—what do I do?”
“Been studying sword aura for two hundred days. Just the smell of Starvation Pills makes me gag.”
“That line above about cutting it without aura is a lie.”
“Adding my vote to the ‘it’s a lie’ camp.”

What I was really looking for was something my father had written.

And sure enough, at the very bottom was his inscription:

“What a load of bullshit.”

Hahaha.
Calling it bullshit to all his martial ancestors.
A man who pretends to be so dignified sure knows how to lay it on thick.

But this time, he had added one more line beside it.

“Lose your temper, and you lose.”

"Lose your temper, and you lose?"
Why would he add something like that?
If it were Father, wouldn’t he have just left behind one curse and moved on, like he did in the first trial?

"Lose your temper… lose your temper…"
Wait. Could it be?

I quickly ran back to the original stone tablet.

1. Within two hours, split the stone orb. Sword energy and sword aura may be used.

That one line caught my eye:

“May be used.”
Not “must be used”, but “may.”

Which means, perhaps it wasn’t necessary at all. Maybe it just meant: “Use them if you really have no other way.”

Now that I thought about it, the time limit was way too generous.
Two full hours—enough time to cut through hundreds of orbs.
And the sheer number of swords on the wall—far too many.

Ah! This trial must be about cutting the orb without using sword energy or aura.

Father’s phrase—"Lose your temper, and you lose"—wasn’t just advice.
It was a warning.
A warning not to let my energy heat up, like it does when you produce sword aura.

And the twenty-day waiting period between attempts?
That only reinforced the idea: this gate was even trickier than the first.

So I’m meant to cut it the hard way.

Thank you, Father.

If sword aura wasn’t allowed, then I had no time to waste.

I returned to the orb.

Now that I was certain I couldn’t use sword aura, the orb looked different.

How exactly do I cut this thing? Vertically? Horizontally? Diagonally? With a speed blade? A heavy sword?

I tried again with /N_o_v_e_l_i_g_h_t/ several different swords.
Over and over.
Nothing but broken blades. The orb remained untouched.

After more than thirty failed attempts, I gave up and slumped against the wall.

There has to be a way...

Time was running out.
Less than one hour left.

Will I really have to try again in twenty days?

I was halfway to giving up.

Should I just slice it with sword aura and move on?

But my father had left me that message—specifically for this moment.
I couldn’t bring myself to take the easy path.

Damn, this is hard. Way too hard.

Slumped against the wall in frustration, I unconsciously began practicing energy projection—the same training I’d done with Father in the mountains.

I extended a thread of qi from my body, letting it brush against the orb.

If only you were a wild boar. Then I could just cut you down in one strike.

My qi wrapped around the orb, slowly feeling its surface.

And then—
My eyes widened.

“Huh?”

There was a faint line on the orb’s surface.
One I couldn’t see or feel with my hand.
But with my qi, I could sense it.

I focused all my concentration on that subtle groove.
My energy curled around it, gently cradling it like a bird sheltering its egg.
It moved with care, trying to become one with the orb.

The line traced its way across the surface, encircling the orb completely before meeting again at the starting point.

I rose to my feet and slowly walked over.

The connection between me and the orb—between my qi and its surface—remained intact.

I closed my eyes and relied solely on that connection.
Feeling the groove through my qi, I brought my sword down precisely along it.

Shhhk.

I didn’t strike with force.
I focused on one thing: slicing exactly along that line with no margin of error.

And in the next instant—

Crack!

The orb split cleanly in two.
That line had been its hidden weakness—a seam built into it, invisible to the naked eye.

But that wasn’t the end of the surprises.

Clink...

From the hollow inside the split orb, a single pill rolled out.