Trial Beneath the Mountain

It was midnight. Three streaks of light zipped across the moonlit sky, heading toward the Tyang Mountain Range. Beneath them lay a vast, treacherous valley, infamous for the beasts and dangers that infested it. After traveling for nearly an hour, Sheo, Elisa, and Luzi descended before a massive, dark pit—a hole so deep it looked like the entrance to the underworld.

Beside it, a mountain shrouded in dense mist loomed silently. But Sheo's eyes remained fixed on the pit. He could feel it—something calling out to him from within the abyss. Suddenly, he winced and clutched his head.

"Damn it... this again," he muttered under his breath, his temples throbbing.

Elisa's voice broke the momentary silence. She was explaining the dungeon layout to Luzi, who was visibly tense. Despite her recent training, Luzi had never experienced a true life-and-death battle. She was still naive in many ways and could potentially hold them back.

Elisa didn’t offer Sheo any instruction, though. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt no need to. Somehow, she instinctively trusted Sheo’s instincts.

Their eyes met. A silent exchange passed between them, and they nodded.

Then Elisa flicked her wrist. A golden scroll materialized in her hand. She hurled it at a seemingly empty patch of air. As it struck, a golden formation ignited, revealing a large seal that trembled before exploding open with a boom.

The trio stepped inside. The moment they crossed the threshold, the air shifted—the surrounding space twisted, and the energy became significantly denser. Luzi tightened her grip on her spear, Elisa unsheathed her daggers, and Sheo’s eyes sharpened. He focused his perception, stretching his awareness across every inch of the terrain as they advanced.

They encountered a series of obvious traps and clever puzzles, solving them one by one. Eventually, they arrived at a blank chamber with no visible exit. In the center stood a stone board, etched with a note:

"Only the one who has mastered the Art of All Presence shall open the gates to the treasure."

Elisa rolled her eyes and stepped forward to touch the stone. Nothing happened. Luzi tried next, but again—no response.

“What’s ‘All Presence’ supposed to be?” Sheo asked.

Elisa shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

Luzi sat down, pouting. “Is this another puzzle? How do we even begin?”

Sheo stared at the stone tablet, then glanced at the empty space ahead. He picked up a rock and threw it. It vanished mid-air.

“Folding space,” he whispered. “I see.”

Curious, he stepped up and placed his hand on the tablet.

At first, nothing.

Then, a current of energy surged from the stone and enveloped him. A light flowed into his mind, accompanied by a soothing, gentle voice:

"If you are hearing this, it means you are worthy to learn the Art of All Presence... and to try and claim my treasure."

A rush of information flooded into his consciousness. Sheo absorbed it calmly.

It wasn’t a combat technique but rather an enhancement art. The Art of All Presence allowed its user to shed all emotion and distraction, focusing on a single task or moment with perfect clarity. It wasn’t something that could be learned—it required innate talent.

The voice continued:

"If you wish to know whether you can learn this art, place your hand into the space before the tablet. Calm yourself. Let your energy flow through the designed path."

Sheo took a deep breath. Without a word to the others, he extended his hand, calming his mind, and circulated his energy.

Suddenly, he felt it—his entire being disconnected from reality. Something deep within him stirred, an instinct honed by years of training. Space and time warped around him, and before him, a hidden path revealed itself—a wondrous bridge of light connecting the impossible.

“Sheo! What are you doing?” Elisa called out, panicked.

But Sheo was already moving, jumping across the void. For a moment, it looked like he would fall. But his instincts, refined by the All Presence, guided him true.

Then, the tablet shimmered again. This time, the message changed. Elisa, reading it, gasped.

"To open the door, the candidate must survive the repulsive force of the Seven-Flower Gate Formation."

“Sheo, prepare for impact!” she yelled.

The voice pierced through Sheo’s focused trance. Just as a massive force surged toward him, his instincts took over. He slashed with his sword—and to everyone’s shock, the attack was cleanly cut in half.

Even Sheo was stunned.

“That… wasn’t me,” he thought. “It was pure instinct.”

He recalled the words from earlier: neglect emotion, focus completely.

As he regained full awareness, a bridge made of dazzling blue light unfolded before him, leading directly to a majestic gate.

Together, they crossed.

Inside, they found a grand circular hall with seven smaller doors and one colossal gate. At the center of the hall sat a humanoid figure, cloaked in flowing white robes, gripping an ancient sword. It didn’t move.

“Elisa… is it alive?” Luzi whispered.

Elisa called out to it. No response.

Sheo narrowed his eyes. “Don’t bother. It’s a puppet.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve read about before.”

They cautiously explored the hall. The floor bore concentric patterns, like layers of defense. As they stepped into the inner circle, an oppressive pressure dropped on them like a hammer.

Suddenly, a monstrous presence flared.

“MOVE, LUZI!” Sheo shouted.

He dashed forward at lightning speed. The puppet had launched a terrifyingly fast attack—aimed at Elisa.

She dodged the first strike, but the second left her vulnerable in midair.

Sheo appeared beside her in a blur, grabbed her by the waist, and tossed her toward Luzi—out of harm’s way.

But the puppet didn’t stop. Another strike came for Sheo. He barely dodged using his 9 Path Movement Technique, his body weaving through the deadly blade.

Luzi formed a barrier in desperation, but the puppet’s blade shattered it like glass.

Just as the sword was about to reach her, Elisa intercepted, striking with her daggers. A shockwave burst between them. Elisa was thrown back several meters, but the puppet didn’t budge.

“Fall back! Step out of the circle!” Sheo shouted.

They obeyed immediately. The moment they exited the formation, the puppet returned to its seated posture, unmoving.

Panting, they regrouped.

“That thing…” Luzi whispered, trembling.

“If defeating that puppet is the test,” Elisa said grimly, “we’re doomed.”

Sheo nodded. “Something doesn’t make sense. If the creator wanted only cultivators below Nemesis level to enter… why place a guardian this powerful?”

“That puppet…” Sheo paused, “it’s at least Saint level. Even Elder Bulma would struggle.”

He scanned the area carefully. Then, something caught his eye—something very interesting...

As Sheo stepped deeper into the vast chamber, his gaze was drawn upwards. A strange design adorned the ceiling—an array of broken stone tablets, haphazardly embedded above as if they had once formed something whole. Their jagged edges and scattered arrangement made no sense at first glance.

But Sheo said nothing.

He activated his movement technique, shifting silently across the hall, each step graceful and intentional. His eyes slowly traced the shattered fragments above—not as individual pieces, but as components of a larger puzzle. From one angle, they remained broken, meaningless. From another… they began to align.

A faint smile crept across Sheo’s lips. But still, he continued his quiet, steady steps, as though he were dancing through a complex pattern only he could see.

Then he stopped.

He stood perfectly still, his eyes now closed. It was as though he were no longer observing with his sight, but with something else entirely. His breathing slowed. His posture was rigid, yet somehow fluid—caught in the grip of some silent, focused trance.

Luzi narrowed her eyes and glanced at Elisa. “Did he just go insane or something?” she muttered.

Elisa didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze remained on Sheo, her expression unreadable—curious, thoughtful. Until now, the Sheo she had seen was nothing like the rumors whispered through the sects. Those tales spoke of a cold, broken youth—a relic of a fallen sect. But this... this was something else.

Then Sheo opened his eyes. They glinted with subtle triumph.

“I found it,” he said softly.

Elisa and Luzi stepped closer, following the direction of his gaze. And as if by some trick of fate—or angle—all the scattered tablets above suddenly aligned, revealing a complete tablet. It had been hidden in plain sight, but only visible from that one precise position.

Etched into its surface were ancient characters, glowing faintly with time-worn energy.

Both Elisa and Luzi had studied the ancient language, as most elite students had. But they quickly realized their knowledge was shallow in comparison. Sheo’s childhood had been spent buried in books. Countless hours in ancient archives. He began reading it aloud, voice low and calm:

"If you are reading this, then you have passed the formation and crossed the trial.

If you seek my Heritage, you must defeat the puppet using the sword move recorded here.

This move is not a sword art but a single, pure action—

Integrate it into your technique and triumph, and my Legacy shall be yours.

Fail, and you shall remain trapped here,

for I cannot allow my secrets to leave this place."

A quiet stillness fell over them.

Sheo's breath deepened as he read further, eyes locked on the tablet. The recorded move... it wasn’t an elaborate sword style. It was simple—deceptively so. But the simplicity was what made it dangerous. Flexible. Adaptable. It could be merged into nearly any technique, weapon style, or combat method.

His lips parted slightly. “This… is incredible.”

Elisa and Luzi were still trying to decipher the deeper meanings within the script. But they couldn’t yet see what Sheo saw.

Without turning to them, Sheo spoke in a quiet but firm voice. “I need to train. Don’t disturb me for anything.”

He walked a few paces to the side, choosing a spot where the energy flowed steadily through the chamber. Sitting cross-legged, he closed his eyes and began circulating his energy. Time slowed around him. His breathing became rhythmic. His consciousness turned inward.

For eight days, Sheo trained.

He began by revisiting the 9 Path Movement Technique, refining each point of balance and transition. Then, he integrated his Space Heart—the unique perception that allowed him to see the world like a lattice of openings and lines.

He was building a sword technique, not by copying, but by weaving together every part of himself—movement, perception, intuition.

Each layer was carefully placed.

Then he began working on "All Presence", the subtle and profound technique that required him to sense everything without being noticed in return. Slowly, day by day, he reached a minor level of mastery. He didn’t know if his progress was fast or slow by the world’s standards. He only knew he had poured every ounce of focus into it.

And when he had done all he could... he turned to the move on the tablet.

He rehearsed it mentally, again and again, combining it with everything he’d learned. Visualizing each situation. Each counter. Each strike. Slowly, his understanding deepened, and with it, so did his sword mind.

In this world, there were two types of weapon intents.

The first was basic—Weapon Mind, the general understanding of a weapon's essence. Easier to attain, but limited in power.

The second was True Intent—a high-level mastery born not just from talent or luck, but from complete immersion in one’s weapon. And Sword Mind was one of the hardest to awaken.

It demanded more than power. It demanded clarity.

Now, after eight days, Sheo opened his eyes.

There was no announcement. No boast. But something in him had changed.

At that very moment, Elisa had just returned from fighting the puppet again. She’d managed five moves this time before being overwhelmed. As she caught her breath and swallowed a recovery pill, she saw Sheo slowly rise to his feet.

He didn’t speak to anyone.

Step by step, he walked toward the puppet, crossing the inner circle. He unsheathed his sword—and then something strange happened.

The puppet, who had always attacked immediately before, paused. It rose in silence, and also drew its sword.

Two swordsmen now faced each other across a battlefield of silence.

Elisa and Luzi shared a glance, then quickly sat, recovery pills in hand—ready to intervene if things turned dire.

Then—

Flash.

Both figures vanished. The sound of clashing steel echoed mid-air. In the blink of an eye, they reappeared, their swords a blur as sparks flew in every direction.

Sheo’s movements were fast—unnaturally so. But there was a pattern. A guiding rhythm. He wasn’t fighting for dominance; he was leading the puppet, subtly guiding it toward the center of the hall.

Luzi’s eyes narrowed. “Wait… this feels like the technique he used on me during our fight…”

As she spoke, the puppet reached the exact center.

And then—Sheo vanished.

To Sheo, it felt as though the world slowed. Space opened before him like a scroll. Countless dots of movement and potential glowed in his perception.

His body moved on instinct, guided by clarity.

Then—

Strike.

His sword came down—not from above, but from every direction at once. The puppet reacted with incredible speed, dodging, parrying—but it wasn’t enough. Small wounds began to appear on its limbs and joints.

Elisa and Luzi were now standing, eyes wide.

The move was so complex, so fluid, that it felt more like art than combat. A trap disguised as chaos. As the final exchange drew near, Sheo’s sword suddenly surged with ancient lightning. The blade rose—then descended.

It was fast, yet it felt like time slowed.

That final move—the one from the tablet—struck the puppet’s sword dead-on.

A wave of energy, dense and ancient, surged into the puppet’s body. It froze, locked in place.

In that instant, Sheo felt something shift deep within him. His understanding crystallized.

His Sword Mind had awakened.

But there was no time to celebrate. He moved instantly, activating the 9 Path Movement Technique at its absolute peak, and dashed toward the central door.

Behind him, the puppet shuddered, then broke free of its frozen state. But it was too late.

Sheo crossed the threshold.

The puppet stopped abruptly and walked toward the now-closed door. Then, with eerie stillness, it sat cross-legged before it—like a guardian.

Elisa and Luzi stood frozen, barely able to speak.

The battle had ended.