The trial grounds did not celebrate survivors.
They expelled them.
A wave of pressure swept outward, gentle but absolute, pushing everyone toward the outer platforms. Formations deactivated one by one, sealing Crushing Ridge completely.
As if it had never existed.
Kael stepped onto solid ground beyond the ridge boundary.
The pressure vanished.
Too suddenly.
His body reacted instantly, density loosening, muscles protesting as if something vital had been taken away.
Kael frowned.
So this was the drawback.
Endurance created dependence.
He adjusted his breathing, forcing his body to normalize.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Seris noticed. "You're recalibrating."
Kael nodded. "The world feels… light."
"That's terrifying," she muttered.
Crowds gathered at the exit platforms.
Sect banners fluttered in the wind.
Eyes sharp with greed and calculation scanned the survivors.
When Kael appeared, conversations stopped.
An elder in white robes narrowed his eyes. "That pressure…"
Another elder, draped in black, smiled thinly. "No explosive Qi. No flamboyance."
"A foundation monster," someone whispered.
A projection crystal lit up.
A calm, distant voice echoed across the grounds.
"Survivors of Crushing Ridge," it said, "step forward when called."
Names were announced.
Rewards distributed.
Promises made.
Then—
"Kael."
The moment his name sounded, the air shifted.
Three sect representatives stepped forward at once.
The first was from the Heavenly Weight Pavilion.
"Our sect specializes in body refinement and pressure domains," the elder said smoothly. "Join us. We will refine your potential properly."
The second wore crimson-gold robes.
Crimson Sect.
Seris stiffened.
"We value strength proven through survival," the representative said. "Your endurance mark is… interesting."
The third said nothing.
He only released a trace of pressure.
Subtle.
Ancient.
The ground trembled faintly.
Kael's eyes narrowed.
A hidden giant.
Kael stepped forward.
"I haven't agreed to anything," he said calmly.
The Heavenly Weight elder smiled. "Of course. We merely offer guidance."
Kael shook his head. "Guidance becomes control."
Silence followed.
Some elders frowned.
Others laughed softly.
The silent man finally spoke.
"Our sect does not recruit," he said. "We observe."
He looked directly at Kael.
"And we wait."
Then he turned and left.
A chill spread through the platform.
Seris whispered, "That was the Deep Pressure Hall."
Kael remembered the system warning.
Predators.
Kael looked at the remaining elders.
"I will not join a sect today."
Murmurs exploded.
An elder snapped, "You insult opportunity!"
Kael met his gaze.
"No," he said evenly. "I choose timing."
The projection crystal flared again.
"Kael," the voice said slowly, "you are granted Independent Trial Status."
Gasps echoed.
Seris' eyes widened. "That means—"
"He can enter pressure zones freely," an elder muttered. "Without sect sponsorship."
"And be hunted freely," another added.
Kael accepted the token calmly.
A heavy black medallion settled into his palm.
[Independent Status Granted:]
— Restrictions: Minimal
— Risk Level: Extreme
— Growth Freedom: Maximum
As the crowd dispersed, Seris walked beside him.
"You just made yourself a target."
Kael looked ahead.
"I was already one."
The sigil on his arm pulsed faintly.
The world ahead felt lighter—
but deeper.
Pressure zones would come.
Sects would test him.
Predators would watch.
Kael clenched his fist.
"Let them."
He stepped forward.
And the ground, unconsciously—
adjusted.
The moment Kael left the main platform, he felt it.
A shift.
Not hostile.
Not friendly.
Attentive.
The air around him was lighter than Crushing Ridge, yet his body felt strangely exposed, as if layers of protection had been peeled away.
Independent status.
No shelter.
No shadow.
Seris slowed her steps. "You feel it too, don't you?"
Kael nodded. "I'm no longer under trial pressure."
"Which means," she continued quietly, "the world itself can touch you now."
They hadn't gone far when Kael stopped.
Seris followed his gaze.
Three figures stood near a broken stone archway ahead.
Ordinary robes.
Unremarkable Qi.
Too unremarkable.
Kael stepped slightly to the side, positioning Seris behind him without looking back.
"Don't move yet," he murmured.
The figures didn't approach.
They waited.
The pressure between them tightened subtly.
Then—
one of them vanished.
Not retreated.
Collapsed.
His body crumpled inward, bones snapping silently under invisible weight.
The other two reacted instantly.
Blades flashed.
Qi surged.
Assassins.
Kael moved.
He didn't rush.
He didn't dodge.
He stepped forward.
The ground cracked beneath his foot.
The pressure spiked.
One assassin screamed as his internal organs failed under sudden compression.
The last tried to flee.
Kael reached out.
Not grabbing flesh.
Grabbing space.
The pressure folded.
The man slammed into the ground like a dropped stone.
Dead.
Silence returned.
Seris exhaled shakily.
"That fast…"
Kael stared at his hand.
His breathing had barely changed.
[Threat Assessment:]
— Hostile Intent: Confirmed
— Independent Status Risk: Immediate
— Pressure Authority: Reactive Activation
Kael frowned slightly.
"That wasn't the Ridge," he said.
Seris swallowed. "That was you."
They didn't linger.
Bodies would draw attention.
As they walked, Kael felt the sigil respond faintly, adjusting his internal density automatically to match the ambient environment.
The system spoke quietly.
[Warning:]
— Passive Pressure Adaptation Increasing
— Long-Term Effect: Environmental Dependence Possible
Kael understood.
Crushing Ridge had trained his body to survive pressure.
Now—
the world would try to remove it.
He needed balance.
They reached a resting plateau overlooking distant mountains.
Seris sat heavily on a stone slab.
"You realize what you did today?" she asked.
Kael remained standing.
"I refused shelter," he said.
"And invited everything else."
She laughed softly. "You're insane."
Kael looked at the horizon.
Pressure zones shimmered faintly in the distance, invisible to normal eyes, but clear to his senses.
"They're calling," he said.
Seris followed his gaze. "You plan to enter them alone?"
Kael nodded.
"My path can't be shared."
She was silent for a long moment.
Then she stood.
"Then I'll walk until it becomes impossible."
Kael didn't refuse.
Far away, news spread.
Independent cultivator.
Endurance sigil.
Assassins crushed without technique.
In hidden halls, elders spoke in hushed tones.
"He's adapting too fast."
"Pressure no longer slows him."
A voice colder than the rest concluded—
"Then increase it."
Kael felt it then.
A distant pull.
Not from the Ridge.
From somewhere deeper.
A natural pressure domain.
Unclaimed.
Untamed.
Dangerous.
His lips curved faintly.
"Good," he murmured.
He stepped forward.
And the world—
began to press back.