The interior of the Great Tower was nothing like the streets of The Floor.
The moment Lin Xue crossed its threshold, the noise of the city was sealed behind stone and formation arrays. The air grew heavier, thick with condensed qi and restrained hostility. Every step forward felt measured, as if the Tower itself were assessing those who dared enter.
This was not a place of comfort.
This was a place of judgment.
The registration hall opened before her—vast, circular, and tiered. Stone platforms rose in concentric rings, each engraved with ancient runes designed to test, suppress, and expose. At the center stood a massive black monolith, its surface smooth and reflective like still water.
The Preparation Test.
Raw power only.
No techniques.
No tricks.
Lin Xue stepped forward—and immediately felt eyes upon her.
The hall was already crowded.
Too crowded.
Her gaze swept across the participants, and her expression sharpened almost at once.
Zhao Sect robes dominated the space.
Dozens of them.
Not outer disciples—core members, disciplined and tense, clearly assembled with a singular objective. Among them stood a man whose presence distorted the air around him through sheer solidity alone.
Pin Sujin.
The Rock Palm.
Broad shoulders, arms like carved stone, qi condensed so densely around his hands that it formed faint ripples. He stood unmoving, eyes closed, as if nothing in the hall was worth acknowledging.
Numbered 15 in the rankings.
Then—another presence.
Zhao Yuan.
Lin Xue felt it before she fully focused on him.
Sharp. Commanding. Untamed talent restrained by arrogance.
Zhao Yuan stood at the front of the Zhao Sect group, posture relaxed, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded in open disdain. His aura pressed outward without control, not because he lacked discipline—but because he did not believe anyone present deserved restraint.
Numbered 13.
So he really came, Lin Xue thought.
Her gaze shifted again—and paused.
A hooded figure stood apart from the others.
No sect markings.
No attempt to stand out.
Yet the space around him felt… wrong. Not empty, but withdrawn, as if his presence was folded inward rather than projected outward.
Lin Xue narrowed her eyes.
Zhao Ming.
She could not see his face, but she was certain.
He stood still, hands hidden beneath his sleeves, posture neutral. Yet his qi moved differently—soft, redirecting itself naturally, never colliding with others.
So he's really here, she thought, disbelief flashing through her mind. What are you doing in the Great Tower?
A deep voice echoed through the hall.
"Participants."
An elder of the Tower stepped forward, his robes silver-lined, eyes cold and indifferent.
"The Preparation Test will now begin."
A murmur rippled through the hall.
"This test measures raw strength only. No techniques, no weapons, no external enhancements. You will place your hand upon the monolith and release your qi."
The elder's gaze hardened.
"The Tower will judge."
One by one, participants stepped forward.
Stone trembled.
Numbers appeared, etched into the monolith's surface before fading.
Gasps followed stronger readings. Scoffs followed weaker ones.
Pin Sujin approached.
He placed his palm against the stone.
The ground vibrated.
The monolith darkened, then glowed with a deep, earthen hue. A number carved itself violently into its surface before stabilizing.
The hall stirred.
Zhao Yuan followed.
He did not even place his full palm—only his fingers.
The result was immediate.
The monolith flared.
The number etched itself higher.
Pride rippled through the Zhao Sect disciples.
Then, the hooded figure stepped forward.
Zhao Ming.
He placed his hand upon the monolith calmly.
No tremor.
No explosion.
Yet the monolith's surface rippled strangely, as if his qi refused to be measured directly.
The number appeared.
Moderate.
Unremarkable.
Snickers followed.
Zhao Yuan glanced sideways, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips.
"So this is what's left of you," he murmured. "Running, hiding… and now this?"
Zhao Ming said nothing.
Then—it was Lin Xue's turn.
She stepped forward.
Placed her palm against the stone.
And released her qi.
The embers ignited.
The monolith groaned.
The number burned itself into the surface with violent intensity, higher than most—lower than Zhao Yuan, but undeniably dominant.
Silence followed.
Lin Xue withdrew her hand slowly.
Her eyes lifted.
She met Zhao Yuan's gaze.
No fear.
No hesitation.
Only intent.
This was only the beginning.
And the Great Tower had just taken notice.