The Author's Draft-Chapter 63: The Fortieth Floor II

Learning to fold space while fighting for your life was...Long Chen discovered, extremely difficult.

The concept made sense in theory. Compress spiritual energy in a straight line between your sword and the target, creating a temporary path of least resistance that space itself contracted along.

In practice, it was nearly impossible.

His first attempts failed completely—the spatial compression collapsed before forming, or formed incorrectly and sent his sword energy scattering in random directions.

The demon bear on Floor 21 mauled him twice before he managed to kill it through conventional means.

Floor 22 was worse. A pack of demon wolves coordinated their attacks, and while Long Chen was trying to execute the spatial compression technique, one of them bit his shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

His enhanced body prevented serious injury, but it hurt.

*Stop trying to force it,* Azazel said as Long Chen drained the wolves’ blood essence. *You’re treating it like a normal technique—gather energy, execute, release. But spatial manipulation doesn’t work that way. You need to feel the space itself first, understand its structure, then you can affect it.*

"Feel space?" Long Chen asked, grimacing as his shoulder healed. "How do I feel something that’s invisible?"

*With your spiritual sense. Extend it outward and pay attention to the resistance. Space pushes back against spiritual energy—that’s what makes it stable. When you learn to detect that pushback, you can learn to compress it.*

Long Chen tried again. Over and over through floors 23, 24, 25.

He got better slowly. His body took a beating—demon beasts landed hits he would normally avoid because his attention was split between fighting and attempting spatial manipulation.

But his physique was strong enough now to absorb the damage. Wounds that would have incapacitated him weeks ago now healed within minutes, fed by the blood essence he continuously absorbed.

By Floor 28, he managed his first successful compression.

A demon tiger lunged at him. Long Chen extended his spiritual sense, felt the fabric of space between them, and pushed his sword forward while simultaneously compressing that space.

His blade moved—

And suddenly it was there, inside the tiger’s guard, having crossed three meters in what felt like a blink.

The tiger’s eyes widened in shock as Demon Dweller pierced its heart.

*YES!* Azazel shouted triumphantly. *That’s it! That’s the principle! You compressed maybe ten percent of the distance, but it’s a start!*

Long Chen pulled his sword free as the tiger collapsed. His hand was shaking—not from exertion but from the sheer difficulty of what he’d just accomplished.

"That felt... wrong. Like reality resisted."

*Because it did, you forced space to behave unnaturally. The universe doesn’t like that, but if you keep practicing, if you get better at it, the resistance will lessen. Eventually, space will bend for you as easily as your arm bends at the elbow.*

Long Chen continued climbing, fighting, almost dying, and being revived by the Tower’s protections. He practiced the spatial compression technique on every floor, gradually improving.

By Floor 30, he could compress distance about twenty percent. His strikes were noticeably faster.

He hit thirty percent compression by the time he reached the thirty-fifth floor. His sword seemed to flicker during attacks, moving too fast to track clearly.

By Floor 38, he managed forty percent on a perfect attempt. The demon beast couldn’t even react before his blade was already through its defenses.

And then he reached Floor 40.

-----

The chamber on Floor 40 was different.

Larger, the spiritual energy was denser here, almost suffocating. The formation patterns carved into the walls glowed brighter, more active.

Long Chen stood on the platform, breathing heavily. He’d been climbing for hours, fighting constantly, pushing his body and techniques to their limits.

Now he stood at a threshold few had crossed.

The interface appeared.

[Floor 40 Trial.]

[Warning: This floor contains opponents at a much higher fundamental level]

[There is a 40% risk of death.]

[Prepare yourself.]

Two figures materialized on the platform.

The first was a demon beast—a massive wolf easily four meters tall, with black fur that seemed to absorb light. Its eyes burned red, and spiritual pressure radiated from it like heat from a forge. Its aura was thick with bloodlust, oppressive and suffocating.

But that wasn’t what made Long Chen’s instincts scream danger.

The second figure was a man.

He stood behind the demon wolf, arms crossed, eyes closed. Tall and lean, wearing simple dark robes. His face was handsome but expressionless, like a statue carved from ice.

And the presence radiating from him...

Long Chen felt death.

Not the threat of death or the possibility of death. But Death itself—like looking into an abyss that looked back and saw him as already dead.

The man’s cultivation level was obscured, impossible to read clearly. But Long Chen could feel it pressing down on him.

He took a deep breath and centered himself.

This was it. The real challenge. A fight he genuinely wasn’t sure he could survive.

His hand tightened on Demon Dweller’s hilt as he prepared for battle—

-----

Outside the Tower, chaos erupted.

The elder managing the entrance stood up from his chair so fast it tipped over backward. His eyes were locked on the jade slip in his hand—the one that tracked active challengers’ progress.

"Fortieth floor," he whispered. "Someone just entered the fortieth floor."

Disciples waiting in line heard him and stopped talking immediately.

"Fortieth floor?"

"That’s..."

"The last person to reach fortieth was thirty years ago, wasn’t it?"

The elder looked up at the crowd. "All of you—spread word to the sect. Someone has entered Floor 40, immediately."

The disciples scattered, running in different directions.

Within minutes, disciples throughout the inner domain heard the news. And within fifteen minutes, a crowd began forming at the Tower entrance.

This was significant, extremely significant.

While many disciples had reached Floor 40 over the decades, none had passed it. The two opponents at that threshold were at a terrifying cultivation level, and their combat experience was beyond anything lower floors prepared challengers for.

Entering Floor 40 meant you were exceptional, clearing it meant you were legendary.

So naturally, everyone wanted to know who it was.

"There are currently five people challenging the Tower right now," someone said, checking records. "Which one made it to forty?"

"Could it be Senior Sister Yue?"

"Or Senior Brother Han?"

The crowd speculated wildly, trying to guess which of the known talented disciples had achieved this feat.

Meanwhile, a disciple sprinted through the inner domain toward a specific location—a cave abode set apart from the others, surrounded by spiritual formations so dense they distorted the air itself.

The spiritual energy near this cave was several times higher than anywhere else in the inner domain. The formations drew qi from the surroundings and concentrated it, creating a personal cultivation paradise for whoever lived inside.

The disciple approached the entrance, his face pale with fear. His hands shook as he stood before the door.

He knew who lived here, everyone knew. And disturbing her was dangerous.

But this news was important enough to risk it.

"Senior Sister!" he called out, his voice cracking slightly. "Senior Sister, I have urgent news!"

Silence.

The disciple swallowed hard and tried again. "Senior Sister, someone has—"

A voice cut through the air—female, cold, sharp as a blade’s edge.

"Speak quickly. If you’re wasting my time, you’ll lose your life."

The threat wasn’t metaphorical. The disciple knew that.

He steeled his resolve and spoke as clearly as he could manage. "Someone has entered the fortieth floor of the Tower!"

Silence again. But this time it felt different—charged, like the moment before lightning struck.

Then the cave doors opened.

Spiritual energy rushed outward in a wave, washing over the disciple and nearly knocking him off his feet. He stumbled backward, catching himself on the path’s edge.

A figure stepped out of the cave.

A young woman—maybe nineteen or twenty years old. Her presence alone commanded attention, demanded it like gravity pulling at his eyes.

Her hair was snow white, flowing down past her shoulders in waves that seemed to move despite no wind. Her skin was pale and flawless, like porcelain carved by a master artisan. Her features were perfect—high cheekbones, full lips, eyes the color of winter ice that seemed to see straight through anything they looked at.

And her body was sculpted by perfection itself—tall and graceful, every curve precisely balanced, wrapped in elegant blue robes that accented rather than concealed.

She was beautiful in a way that could spark wars. The kind of beauty that made men lose their senses and women feel inadequate just by existing near her.

But what made the disciple’s knees weak wasn’t her appearance.

It was her cultivation.

Spiritual pressure radiated from her like an ocean pressing down from above. Core Formation Realm, powerful enough that the disciple’s Foundation Establishment cultivation felt like a candle trying to withstand a hurricane.

The woman looked at him with those ice-blue eyes. "Fortieth floor?"

"Y-yes, Senior Sister Ao," the disciple managed.

"Who?"

"We don’t know yet. There are five challengers currently in the Tower, but—"

"Follow me."

She walked past him, moving with fluid grace, and heading toward the tower.