Chapter 216: The Gate

Instead of dying as he had braced for, or being severely injured as one would expect after being crumpled into a paper ball, Yang found himself floating underwater. There was no drowning or desperate panic for air. He felt himself simply floating in the dark, weightless, before the absolute blackness around him bled into multiple neon lights. 

Thousands of shades of blazing reds, electric blues, and searing greens flashed and changed so quickly as to give even a cultivator a stroke. The kaleidoscope of colors swirled and merged, creating a chaotic dance that threatened to overwhelm his mind with its intensity. He could feel the brightness burning into his retina and sending a sharp ache through his skull, but before it could get worse, he felt a hooking sensation near his navel and felt himself being yanked towards a massive swirl of dark pink color that churned like a giant whirlpool in space. 

Yang was dragged to the center of it, the neon pink engulfing him until it was all he could see.

And then suddenly he heard a sound like a blade cutting through air. 

A circle of glowing green runes materialized beneath his feet, continuously projecting larger and more intricate arrays downward, cascading until they formed a cone with Yang standing on the narrowest point.

The pink light vanished.

Yang plummeted straight through the rune circle, the green light rushing past him in streaks until he slammed into a cold black floor with bone-shattering force. He stumbled forwards as his knees gave out instantly. The impact sent a shockwave of agony through his body. He heard the sickening crunch of his knees shattering from the impact, muffled by his own cry of pain. 

He collapsed to the side as his hands gained purchase against the glossy surface, fumbling around, trying to take a bottle of healing pills out of his storage ring and placing a handful of the pills in his mouth. 

The sharp pain was too much, and he needed to heal as soon as possible to overcome whatever he needed to face here. 

He felt the pills melt into his mouth and swallowed the bitterness as he felt the stabbing pain begin to recede and the bone fragments melt and reform his knee. He felt a tingling sensation in his knees as the damage was knitted back together.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the pain disappeared, allowing him to push himself to his feet, cautiously testing his knees. 

He was able to stand straight without any ache and finally able to take in his surroundings.

He would call the place a large hall or a chamber, but there was nothing to be seen. He was standing on a glossy black surface that stretched in every direction. The walls, floor, ceiling everything was the same seamless glossy black, devoid of any feature or detail.  

There was no clear path to walk, but he felt an urge to go in a particular direction.

And Yang, driven by his lack of impulse control, immediately began walking confidently in that direction.

As he walked, he couldn't help but shake his head at his own actions. He would get stuck in a dire situation and promise himself to be more cautious, only to blindly march into the next mystery the moment it got his attention, despite whatever crap he had spouted to himself before.

But again, it wasn't as if he walked into anything blindly. He relies on the bead. Ultimately, the path may be painful and full of difficulties, but he is always safe in the end.

And even this time he was proven right, he thought as he let the corner of his lips lift up as he looked at the structure looming in front of him.

A gate.

At least that's what he thought it was.

It rose before him like a monolith made of blackened iron. Its surface, rather than resembling a normal door, looked completely mechanical. Its appearance would have been more fitting for the inside of a mechanical clock than a gate.

He could see multiple gears, cogs, and interlocking chains embedded into the gate. In the center of the gate was a polished silver concave disk roughly the size of his head. It was a prime example of exquisite craftsmanship, completely unlike anything he had ever seen in his first life.

Yang was still taking in the intricate detail of the gate when he saw a golden tendril appear, hovering near his face. 

He jerked back, reflexively bringing his hand to his head, and took a step back as he realized its origin. 

It was not just some golden tendril but rather one from the web.

From the bead.

And it was emerging directly from the center of his forehead.

A tendril of the bead’s webbing was outside his body.

He stood frozen as it extended further and moved towards the disc in the center of the gate. 

Standing rooted to the spot, he watched the tendril reach toward the disk at the center of the gate. The moment it made contact, the strand dissolved into fine golden filaments that spread across the silver concave surface, weaving a delicate web before sinking deep into the metal.

The gate began to move.

The gears and the interlocking components all began showing movement, shifting and moving. Sliding and clicking into place according to a predetermined sequence. The whole gate seemed to act as a large flat vertical puzzle that had been activated by the bead.

He watched, fascinated, as one part of the mechanics finished its alignment and a hexagon opened in the door as that part of the mechanical area folded into the rest of the gate. The gate was like a large puzzle made of hundreds of smaller interlocking puzzles.

Another smaller circle opening appeared near the top of the door. Then a triangle and a smaller circle and dozens of additional openings, each one revealing a bright white light pouring through the gaps until the whole gate seemed to dismantle itself into smaller components that turned and folded into the black wall, leaving only a doorway made of pure white light. 

He watched transfixed as a dozen thin gold filaments flickered out again.

But this time it did not originate from his own body but rather from the white light.

The multiple thin tendrils reached and touched him, first on the center of his head and then other parts of his body, thickening and solidifying until they pulled him inside the light.

Instantly and unbelievably smoothly he found himself standing in a new place. A large circular chamber with a high vaulted ceiling. The walls were lined with alcoves, each one containing a sculpture of cultivators, at least a hundred feet tall. They stood in solemn vigil, all facing the center of the chamber. Their faces impassive and ageless.

They must have been beings of immense power. Even their depictions alone exuded more power than any living cultivator he had ever come across.

In the center of the room, sunken into the floor, was a round pool. As he stepped closer and peered down, he saw it was filled with some kind of molten metallic black liquid, thick and viscous, that seemed to have waves rolling across its surface.

He crouched down near the edge of the pool to take a closer look and immediately leaned back as the liquid seemed to surge higher, as if to reach him.

He nearly tumbled straight into the pool when a voice spoke from directly behind him.

“Curious little thing, aren’t you?”

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