Ye Qingyi panted heavily as she came to a stop on the 181st step, nearly catching up to the three D-level captains who had reached the 200th step.
Yang Jie watched the scene with an unreadable expression, his thoughts unclear.
Suddenly, his pupils dilated, and his eyelids twitched involuntarily—Su Mo had already climbed to the 300th step. Though his pace was slow, pausing briefly every few steps, he showed no signs of being overwhelmed.
“Is this girl trying to get herself killed?!”
Just to be safe, Yang Jie quickly moved to a position ten meters behind Su Mo—close enough to intervene if needed but far enough not to disturb him.
Su Mo, completely focused on climbing, didn’t even notice someone following him.
Along the way, he noticed something strange: whenever his mind began to waver, taking a short break would ease the pressure.
He had no idea if others felt the same way, but he privately celebrated this “exploit” while remaining cautious.
As time passed, Yang Jie’s expression shifted from shock to anticipation—he wanted to see just how far this prodigy could go.
Eventually, however, he began to feel the strain. His head throbbed as if a demon were screeching inside, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.
Not daring to push further, he retreated until the mental pressure became negligible.
Turning back, he saw Su Mo still climbing steadily, unhurried and unshaken.
Yang Jie finally couldn’t hold back. Wiping sweat from his brow, he muttered in awe:
“Holy… sht…”*
Su Mo’s figure soon vanished from sight. Yang Jie, still recovering from mental exhaustion, returned to the plaza and meditated to calm himself.
A voice suddenly snapped him out of his trance. The moment he opened his eyes, he saw Li Wenhui and several members of the Red Leaf Hall.
“Ah, Third Elder Li Wenhui of the Red Leaf Hall. My apologies for not greeting you properly.”
Though his words were polite, Yang Jie didn’t bother standing—partly because he was still unwell, and partly because he and Li Wenhui had a history of mutual dislike.
“Since when do we stand on ceremony?” Li Wenhui smirked, sitting across from him. “You look like hell. What’s got you so worked up?”
Yang Jie ignored the jab but gestured toward the palace steps. “Climbing those. Took a lot out of me.”
Li Wenhui glanced at the seemingly endless staircase and scoffed. “A measly flight of stairs did this to you?”
“Feel free to try it yourself. See if you fare any better.” Yang Jie remained unfazed.
“Not today. I’ve got business to attend to.” Li Wenhui lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and blew the smoke directly into Yang Jie’s face. “Where’s Ye Qingyi? Ye Zhongwen’s daughter?”
Yang Jie jerked his chin toward the steps again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Li Wenhui frowned.
“She’s climbing. Probably almost at the top by now.” His tone was casual, as if stating the obvious.
Li Wenhui froze, then let out a disbelieving laugh. “You expect me to buy that? You, a B-rank, couldn’t make it, but some rookie girl did?”
Even without knowing the exact mechanics, he knew one thing—this trial came down to pure strength.
His laughter turned shaky, but Yang Jie’s calm demeanor sent a chill down his spine. “…You’re serious?”
“Believe what you want.”
“You bastard—!” Li Wenhui shot to his feet, fists clenched. “If anything happens to her, you’re dead!”
With a cold snort, he sprinted toward the palace. But the moment he set foot on the steps, a wave of dizziness hit him.
Fortunately, as a B-rank himself, Li Wenhui’s formidable mental resilience allowed him to breeze past the first 500 steps.
After a while, he paused, deep in thought.
“Still no sign of her… Did she really make it to the top?”
Though he refused to believe it, Yang Jie hadn’t seemed like he was lying.
Had Ye Zhongwen secretly given his precious daughter some artifact to resist the mental pressure?
Unable to make sense of it—and with a growing headache—Li Wenhui decided to turn back.
“If I keep this up, I might damage my psyche. Better quit while I’m ahead.”
Then, an idea struck him. He climbed a few more steps before descending, counting each one.
597 steps in total.
“That should be more than him.”
“Find what you were looking for?” Yang Jie’s expression was priceless.
Li Wenhui feigned nonchalance. “On the way down, I realized something—youngsters should take risks. Fortune favors the bold.”
“That’s all you got out of it?” Yang Jie smirked, then widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Don’t tell me you didn’t realize climbing those steps trains your mental strength?”
Li Wenhui stared at him before breaking into a laugh. “Is that why you look like death warmed over?”
“I overdid it, that’s all—”
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
Nearby, Ye Qingyi watched the two middle-aged men bicker, her exhaustion from the climb easing slightly.
She glanced back at the palace, her confusion deepening.
If Yang Jie’s earlier assessment was correct, the height one reached should correlate with mental strength—meaning Su Mo’s psyche surpassed even a B-rank’s.
How was that even possible?
His body’s so weak…
Su Mo trudged forward in a daze, each step heavier than the last. But the pressure didn’t just crush him—it gnawed at his mind, numbing it bit by bit. The higher he went, the clearer this sensation became.
Huh? No more steps?
Ahead lay a white jade “carpet” leading to towering palace doors. The sight jolted him awake.
“I… made it?”
“How?”
The last thing he remembered was moving on autopilot—step, lift, repeat—like muscle memory from climbing seven flights of stairs to his dorm back in college.
He turned to look behind him. The training grounds, the distant desert, the rolling dunes—all sprawled beneath him, evoking the grandeur of standing atop the world.
If Li Bai were here, he might’ve recited:
“The tower scrapes the heavens, stars within my grasp. Speak not too loud, lest gods take notice.”
Su Mo took in the view, emotions swelling. He tried composing a poem to mark the moment…
But after a long pause, all that came out was:
“Holy sht… that’s insane!”*