First Trial and Shackles

The hospital room was terrifyingly silent. Only the monotonous "beep... beep..." of the heart monitor sounded, once, then again, like a dull blade slowly cutting through time. The cold, pungent stench of disinfectant stubbornly clung to his nostrils and seeped into his lungs, chilling even his heart. Xiang Yi lay collapsed in the hospital bed, every gap between his bones throbbing with weakness and pain as though his marrow had been sucked dry. Yet deep inside his mind, it felt as if he were being roasted over a fire, boiling and churning without pause.

His mother, Lin Wanqing, had not left. Curled up in the chair beside his bed, her frail shadow was stretched thin and long by the dim yellow light. One hand rested gently against Xiang Yi's uninjured temple. Her fingertips were icy, trembling so faintly that even her entire arm shook. It was as though she wanted to draw some real warmth from him, to confirm that he was truly still lying here. Her other hand unconsciously rubbed the back of his hand. The calluses there had been worn down through years of hardship, yet now they weighed heavily upon him, silently telling of the lingering terror of surviving disaster and the pain lodged deep in her throat, nearly overflowing.

Xiang Yi kept his eyes shut, deliberately making his breathing slow and even as he pretended to sleep. His mother's presence beside him wrapped around him like a warm net, threads of warmth seeping in, yet also weighing heavily on his chest. Guilt was like a thorny vine, tightening around his flesh coil by coil. He could "hear" his mother's suppressed, broken sobs. They were filled with the exhaustion of narrowly escaping death, but also something deeper and stickier—the immense fear of the unknown disaster that had nearly taken her son away. That sound was harsher than any furious scolding, like cold, thin steel wires tightening around his nerves again and again.

I have to live! I have to get stronger! Not just for this life he had clawed back, but for the mother in front of him whose strength was nearly spent, and for the father who stubbornly refused to collapse even though his eyes looked as weary as if covered in thick dust! In his previous life, the trivial troubles of an ordinary office drone seemed like a joke before Thanos's snap that wiped out half the universe. In this cannibalistic Marvel Universe, weakness was the most unforgivable original sin! Wait to die? Let his family become meat on the chopping block, ready for anyone to butcher? Not a chance!

His consciousness suddenly sank deep into his sea of awareness. A dim blue screen floated there soundlessly like a cold star:

[Honor of Kings Summoning System]

[Host]: Xiang Yi

[Mental Power (Lv.0): 14/100 (Recovering Slowly)]

[Energy Points: 0]

[Status]: Severely Injured (Recovering) / Concussion (Recovering) / Soul Fusion Rate: 74% (Unstable)]

Fourteen points!

This pitiful amount of mental power was not even enough to summon a wisp of a hero's phantom! The dark, dormant icons in the system shop were like cold, solid iron bars, sealing him outside the threshold of power. The poisonous fumes of despair had barely risen in his heart before a fiercer, more brutal resolve crushed them back down. Despair? Absolutely not! Power was the only path to survival in this dark jungle!

Gathering all his will, he stared at the sole lit area on the screen like a starving hawk:

[Basic Meditation (Lv.0 Unlocked): Returning to the Hidden Formula (Basic Chapter) — Increases Mental Power Limit / Accelerates Mental Power Recovery. (Learnable)]

Learn! His will roared silently, carrying the ruthlessness of staking everything on one throw as it slammed into the option!

Buzz—!

A massive, chaotic stream of information flooded into his mind. Unlike the rigid implantation of the system's rules before, this one carried an ancient, weighty, even slightly abrasive texture, as though a heavy bamboo scroll covered in verdigris were forcibly unfolding in his consciousness with a creak. Obscure, tongue-twisting incantations and intricate, mystical diagrams of meridian circulation imprinted themselves into the depths of his thoughts. The oppressive weight nearly suffocated him.

"Empty the heart, fill the belly..."

"Seemingly endless, yet never exhausted in use..."

"Attain utmost emptiness, preserve profound stillness..."

The scripture flowed like a cool stream, trying to extinguish the wildfire in his heart, fueled by fear and urgency. In the diagram of energy channels, a phantom thread descended from the Baihui acupoint atop his head into the dantian three inches below his navel, then struggled its way upward inch by inch along the Governing Vessel running through his spine... over and over again.

Understanding it was one thing. Actually doing it? That was another mountain of blades and sea of flames!

Xiang Yi desperately drove away the chaotic thoughts in his mind and tried with all his strength to gather and focus his will as the technique described.

He stumbled into a bottomless mire on the very first step.

The heart monitor's beeping seemed to magnify a hundredfold, becoming war drums pounding against his chest. Every sound struck precisely at the thoughts he was trying to gather. The smell of disinfectant became exceptionally pungent, piercing straight into his brain. The dull pain at the back of his head felt like a balloon constantly being inflated, ready to burst at any moment. His chest was so tight that every breath pulled at his broken bones, bringing tearing agony.

Worse still was the storm raging in his mind—Tony Stark's eyes, as though capable of seeing through everything, suddenly lit up in the darkness with a hint of flippant mockery; the cover headline "King of Weapons" burned against his eyeballs like red-hot branding iron; the sound of Thanos's snap that erased half the universe became billions of scorching steel balls crashing madly around inside his skull; and the faces of his parents, chewed to pieces by worry and despair, wrapped around his heart like cold venomous vines, tightening further and further...

"Urgh..." Xiang Yi abruptly opened his eyes, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints in terror as cold sweat instantly soaked his back. His heart pounded madly in his chest, and every beat viciously tugged at his injuries. The pain sent waves of darkness across his vision. His first attempt had ended in utter defeat beneath the torrent of inner and outer distractions.

Frustration washed over him like a bucket of ice water. The ordinary office drone from his previous life, who could not even sit still for five minutes without feeling like he was on pins and needles, was as insignificant as dust before such an unfathomable cultivation method.

I can't... give up... His fingernails dug viciously into the soft flesh of his palm, and the sharp pain brought a trace of twisted clarity. Without power, he was fish on the chopping block! If he could not even protect himself, how could he protect the parents who had exhausted their hearts for him? Cold fear shattered that insignificant frustration and instead ignited an even fiercer, more violent fire of survival!

He closed his eyes again. This time, he no longer futilely tried to "empty" his thoughts. Instead, he forced himself to become an indifferent observer. He watched coldly as fragments of thought named "fear," "anxiety," and "doomsday" drifted down the river of consciousness, while he fiercely guarded the core of his mind, refusing to let it be swept away by the surging undercurrent.

His will, as weak as a dying candle in the wind, trembled as it painstakingly returned to the point between his brows—the mental "origin point" specified by the technique.

Begin!

That thread of will was as thin as gossamer, as though a single breath could scatter it. He clenched his teeth so hard that his jaw felt like iron, imagining it sinking down along the intangible Conception Vessel, like dragging a thousand-pound boulder through solidified asphalt, inch by inch, thread by thread. The resistance was terrifying. Every tiny movement felt like tearing apart his soul. The dull ache in the back of his head became a rusty blunt file scraping back and forth against the inside of his skull. Cold sweat poured from his temples as though floodgates had opened, rolling over his pale cheeks and chilling him until his teeth chattered. His body began to shake violently out of control, his muscles taut as bowstrings about to snap.

Time crawled forward inch by inch in that soundless deadlock. Every second was as long as a century. His will struggled desperately in an intangible swamp.

Sink... just a little deeper...

Like a traveler who had spent his last ounce of strength finally dropping a single bead of spring water onto cracked, thirsty earth, that faint warm current of will, so weak it was nearly dissipating, finally smashed its way into the depths of his dantian!

At the instant his will touched bottom—

Buzz!

An indescribable tremor from the deepest part of his marrow burst from Xiang Yi's dantian, like a volcano that had slept for ten thousand years pushing out its first muffled pulse! It was weak, but incomparably real, carrying the primal vitality of newborn life, almost convulsive in its intensity!

At the same time, the dim blue screen in his sea of awareness flashed violently! The cold number "14" seemed to be struck by an invisible hammer, suddenly jumping!

A new number, fresh with life, appeared clearly before him:

[Mental Power (Lv.0): 15/100 (Recovering Slowly)]

He had done it!

An indescribable ecstasy surged from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head with a boom! Every hair on his body stood on end! His muscles convulsed from the sheer intensity of his excitement! He bit down hard on his lower lip, and the rusty sweetness of blood spread rapidly through his mouth before he could force the howl rising to his throat back down!

That insignificant "1" now outweighed Mount Tai! It was not merely a number. It was the first crack he had carved open with his own will in the midst of despair! The first spark to ignite the flames of life! The first foundation stone he had earned through willpower and pain in this perilous Marvel Universe!

Yet just as that delirious joy of surviving disaster had not fully occupied his mind—

An indescribable chill suddenly descended, as though he had been pierced by an invisible gaze! The screen in his sea of awareness fluctuated violently, and a line of scarlet warning appeared soundlessly:

[Residual Fluctuation of High-Dimensional Energy Imprint Detected!]

[Fluctuation Source Analysis: Kamar-Taj — Dimensional Guardian (the Ancient One)]

[Fluctuation Nature: Mark (Passive Detection)]

[Risk Level: Extremely High (Continued Exposure Will Trigger Deep Scan)]

[Recommendation: Immediately Remove the Imprint or Increase Mental Power Shielding Level! Countdown: 72 Hours]

The faint spark of life that had just ignited was instantly blown by that cold warning into nothing but a pale heap of ashes! A bone-piercing chill froze him to the marrow!

The Ancient One! She had actually left a mark on him? Seventy-two hours... a deep scan! What did that mean? His greatest secret, his system, everything he possessed, would be laid bare before the eyes of Earth's Sorcerer Supreme! What awaited him? Silent erasure? Imprisonment in some lightless dimension? Or being dissected and studied on a cold laboratory table?

Fear—unprecedented fear born from the instinct for survival—gripped his throat like a huge, icy iron hand. It was even more suffocating than the moment he had nearly died beneath the cliffs of the Kunlun Mountains! He had no doubt that the Ancient One could crush him as easily as she could crush an insignificant ant! Stay in the hospital? Wait for death! That was nothing but waiting for death!!

I have to leave! I have to gain enough power to protect myself immediately, right now! Summoning a hero was no longer a long-term plan for growing stronger. It was his final trump card for survival! Within seventy-two hours, he had to gather the mental power required for a summon!

An unprecedented sense of urgency shot through his entire body like high-voltage electricity, and every cell screamed madly! Time was no longer a flowing stream, but a cold guillotine hanging above his head, ticking relentlessly!

"Mmm..." Sensing the sudden stiffness in her son's body and the faint tremors he could not suppress, Lin Wanqing let out a worried murmur. The hand resting against Xiang Yi's temple pressed a little harder, the callused pad of her fingers conveying silent questioning and comfort. Her other hand, tightly gripping his, unconsciously clenched as well, as though she wanted to squeeze every last bit of her strength and warmth into him.

His mother's touch was like a warm, heavy, invisible shackle pressing down on Xiang Yi's wildly pounding heart. That warmth reminded him of the burden of keeping up his disguise, yet it was also like a basin of quenching water, instantly tempering his survival instinct—warped and boiling from fear and urgency—into something harder and sharper!

Not for some vague ambition to conquer the world, but simply to live! To protect this weighty warmth that he had only just snatched back from the fangs of fate!

Beneath the blanket, his tightly clenched fist shook violently from the force he exerted. His nails sank deep into the soft flesh of his palm again, and the sharp pain became his final anchor for steadying his mind and suppressing his boundless fear.

He had to immerse himself in cultivation again! He had to ignore his mother's anxious gaze beside the bed, ignore the searing agony of every wound in his body, ignore the exhaustion that had pushed him beyond his limits! His will became a drill boring through frozen earth, carrying the newly born resolve that was faint yet incomparably determined as it crashed once more, recklessly and without hesitation, into the point between his brows!

In the hospital room, only the heart monitor's dim green light blinked like a cold, merciless eye, silently watching the first desperate struggle within the young man's body—a struggle that would decide life or death.