The dark arena trembles with the footsteps of three hundred young warriors. In the dim torchlight, Min Jae stands shoulder to shoulder with dozens he's never seen before. A tense silence falls as Master Kyung, one of the senior instructors, steps forward and addresses the gathered children. "Welcome to the Second Gate of Hell!" he booms. "Today, you face three relentless trials. Only the strong and the wise will survive."
Stamina Test: The Collapsing Floor
With a shout, the arena floor beneath the children cracks and begins to collapse. Huge stone tiles, rigged on unstable pillars, tilt violently as one by one they drop into a chasm below. Chaos erupts. "Run!" the instructors command. Dozens break into a sprint, desperation in their eyes. Sharp claws of the trap scrape at Min Jae's heels as the first tile beneath him shudders. He lunges forward with all his strength, narrowly escaping the yawning gap.
Above the crumbling floor descend sinister puppets—wooden mannequins with gleaming blades for fingers, animated by dark Qi. Each puppet pursues the survivors with merciless speed. "Over here!" one child screams and leaps; a puppet swoops in and slashes, trailing a shower of blood. Fear sharpens Min Jae's senses. He channels breath through his lungs, heart hammering, muscles burning, but he refuses to slow. When a puppet whips a poisoned steel claw at him, Min Jae ducks under the blow and rolls between tilting tiles. Time seems to stretch and snap around him in brutal staccato.
"Keep moving!" Instructor Park's voice bellows from above. On a stable ledge, the instructors direct the trial, cheering the brave and mocking the weak. Each child's path is different: some leap across collapsing slabs with desperate agility, others are less fortunate, plummeting into darkness below or skewered by puppet weapons.
Min Jae's mind is razor-sharp. He calculates each leap even as his body already reacts. A tile before him wobbles—he's seen that pattern before—and he sidesteps into the air, barely clearing a gust of now-dust. Breathing is painful, every lungful a stab of agony, but he moves faster than fear. His feet tear off bits of the fragile floor, leaving cracks behind as he presses onward.
Time stretches and contracts in short bursts of terror. Halfway through, Min Jae catches a glance at his own blood trickling from a knee wound. He grits his teeth and pushes on. In one desperate jump, he clears a fallen puppet with inches to spare, slashing it into a heap of shattered wood. By the end of the test, only a pale handful remain on the final solid platform. Min Jae stands panting, chest heaving, blood and sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. Around him, around one hundred thirty other survivors gasp for air. Two hundred were lost to the pit and puppets.
Intelligence Test: The Mirror Maze
The arena shifts again. A door of polished steel slides open to reveal a vast maze of mirrored corridors ahead. Whispering voices echo from hidden corridors as Master Kyung announces the next challenge: "Navigate the labyrinth of mirrors and traps. Observe carefully; the maze itself is a weapon."
Inside, the maze's walls confound the eye. Every turn is lined with tall silver mirrors, reflecting light in blinding angles. Min Jae steps in tentatively, guiding a trembling classmate ahead of him. "Watch your feet," he whispers. Already, a distant crack! is heard: someone has tripped a pressure plate, triggering poison needles that sail from the walls. A piercing scream echoes down the corridor before abruptly cutting off.
Each corridor presents a deadly puzzle. At one juncture, a child's reflection in the mirror moves independently and lunges; Min Jae stiffens, realizing it's a clever trap. The mirror is a portal: a masked poison dart shoots forth. He ducks just in time, heart in his throat. "Not real!" he whispers to himself, arm shielding his face.
Other traps are subtler: footstep triggers that release razor fans from the ceiling, or sudden jets of flame from the bases of mirrors. Through it all, Min Jae stays silent and watchful. He studies subtle differences in the reflections—on one distorted wall, the reflection's blood-red markings don't match reality. Trusting his gut and the faint warmth of hidden air vents, he navigates around a corridor that would have scorched him.
When faced with a crossroad of identical corridors, he remembers a rule from his training: "Look to the ground; traps disturb the dust." Kneeling by a panel, he sees tiny dots of dust scattered unevenly – a trap lies ahead. He takes the safe route while several behind him trigger the pressure plate. Harsh green smoke fills the air, and those children collapse coughing and convulsing.
Min Jae's pulse is steady, his thoughts quiet focus. He relies on logic more than brute force. Pain stalks the edges of his mind but he ignores it, whispering encouragement to himself: You know how to survive. You've endured worse. Each correct step steels his confidence. The labyrinth finally narrows to a corridor of plain stone leading out. The survivors emerge, one by one, battered and exhausted but alive. The count remains on 130—no one else fell this round, thanks to their caution.
The Final Slash: Precision Blade
A hush falls as the young warriors stand before a circular pit. In its center sits a perfectly round, jet-black stone placed atop a marble pedestal. Master Kyung's stern face is illuminated by torchlight. "One by one," he says, "you will enter the chamber and slash the stone in half.
No internal energy—nothing but the strength of your body and the sharpness of your blade. Only a flawless cut will sever it. Fail, and you die."
Murmurs run through the crowd. Slashing a stone? With no Qi? It seems impossible. The air feels heavy with the weight of destiny. One youth steps forward, trembling, and grips the long sword given to him at the entrance. He takes aim, swings… and the blade shatters against the stone. A piercing scream follows; hot blood sprays. The marrow-chilling thud is the young warrior's final cry. The instructors nod and drag the limp body aside.
One after another, more come. Their efforts are valiant but futile. Each failure triggers a geyser of shrapnel or a stone shard that rips through flesh. Only silence answers the stone's shuddering defiance. The line of children dwindles fast; panic spreads in tremors. Min Jae's turn draws near.
When it's his time, Min Jae's mouth goes dry. In the dim glow, he feels no fear—only calm determination. He remembers every cut taught to him through months of daily practice, every drop of sweat and blood spilled in training. His muscles know the perfect arc. Shaking slightly, he advances and plants his feet firmly on the ground.
He swings his blade in one smooth motion, a breath held in the world. The sword whistles as it slices through air and flesh—slash! A resonant crack echoes. The stone splits cleanly in half, two pieces falling apart with a ring like a bell. The whole chamber seems to exhale.
For a moment, the instructors and children stare in stunned silence at the halved stone. Then, as if obeying a dark impulse, the resentful gatekeeper steps forward. His face is twisted with envy; the other children's shock fuels his fury. "Show off!" he snarls, unsheathing a wicked short blade. Without warning, he lunges at Min Jae.
Min Jae's instincts kick in. A punch, then a kick, a swing of a meager staff hidden by the gatekeeper—each blow hurtles towards Min Jae like a bullet train. But he barely flinches. Pain is just another sensation now. Memories of past beatings steel his mind. His body, used to agony, barely registers the impact. He stands firm, muscles absorbing and redirecting force. When the gatekeeper's final strike would have split his skull, Min Jae sidesteps at the last instant. The blade sails past empty air.
In the stunned silence that follows, Min Jae simply breathes normally, as though nothing extraordinary occurred. Children around them murmur at his impassive face. The gatekeeper, panting, slinks back. He knows he stands no chance against someone unflinching, someone truly hardened by hardship.
A New Beginning: Iron Root Breathing
Silence is broken by the instructors as they move to gather the survivors. Master Kyung surveys the remaining 85 children, bloodied but alive. With solemn voices, they chant healing mantras. Misty qi menders weave through the group, hands glowing, sealing wounds and restoring strength. Min Jae feels warmth flood through every ache until even the memory of pain dulls to a faint echo.
When the last wound is closed, the children are ushered to sit around a blazing brazier. Master Kyung raises a hand for calm. "You have passed the Second Gate," he announces. "Now the Third and final Gate of Hell looms before you. To overcome it, you must learn to forge internal strength."
The children exchange nervous glances. Internal energy cultivation—their hearts skip in anticipation and fear. A small scroll and a crystal vial are handed to each of them. Min Jae holds the Iron Root Breathing Technique scroll in one hand, and in the other, a single shimmering energy pill.
"It is the foundation of life," Master Kyung explains softly. "Breathe with the Iron Root method and absorb the Pill of Thirty Years. For one who has never stored Qi, this pill grants the vitality of three decades. Use it well."
Gasps ripple through the group. Twenty years of energy in one moment? Min Jae's fingers tremble as he examines the pill. His heart flutters with hope and excitement. This is the chance he has trained for.
He unrolls the scroll with reverent care. On the silk, elegant characters outline the first breathing technique: breathing deep into the dantian, chest tightening, and exhaling slowly to accumulate Qi. Min Jae's mind sharpens; he understands at once that this is the key to the inner power he has long sought.
As the firelight dances across their faces, the surviving children hug their scrolls and pills as if they were treasures. Whispers fill the air. Min Jae feels a swell of pride and resolve. His scars have brought him here. His suffering has earned him this moment.
He looks to the instructors with gratitude. "I will train without rest," he vows quietly to himself. The trials have only ignited the fire within him. His eyes shine with a new purpose. The path ahead will be harder, but for the first time, Min Jae senses a true turning point: the seeds of power are now in his hands.