At the heart of this emerald expanse was the Emerald Reflection Terrace, an altar that seemed to hover above the water. Four narrow bridges extended from the terrace to the shore, their graceful arches giving them the appearance of floating. The entire scene resembled a dream, a world out of reach of the mundane.

The old man leading the candidates stepped forward, his voice steady and commanding. “This is the Soul Reflection Trial. You will sit upon the platform, defend your mind, and face the seven tribulations. Only those who endure shall pass.”

The candidates exchanged uneasy glances. Despite their pride as the brightest talents of their generation, their confidence wavered. The Soul Reflection Trial was infamous—its elimination rate was brutal, often as high as 90%.

Yu Xuan stood at the edge of the altar, his face serene, though a sense of anticipation stirred within him as he wondered what the trial would entail.

“Sit upon the terrace. In five breaths, the trial will begin!” The old man’s voice cut through their thoughts.

Yu Xuan sat cross-legged on the smooth altar. As he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the world around him began to change.

When his vision cleared, he found himself standing alone in a vast and empty expanse. The sky above was dark and oppressive and the ground beneath him was cracked. The silence was suffocating.

“Where am I?” Yu Xuan whispered, the words barely leaving his lips before they were swallowed by the emptiness.

Suddenly, a figure appeared before him. It was a man, though his features were obscured by a thick fog. The man stood with his back turned, motionless.

"Who are you?" Yu Xuan called out, but the figure did not respond.

A voice echoed in his mind. "You are nothing. You will never be more than you are now. Your efforts will always be futile. Why do you continue to struggle?"

The figure slowly turned around, revealing a face Yu Xuan knew all too well. It was his own face, but twisted, distorted by the shadow of self-doubt. The image of himself smirked cruelly, its eyes full of disdain.

“What is the purpose of your struggle, Yu Xuan?” the apparition asked, its voice dripping with derision. “You fight, you strive, but to what end? Are your efforts not but a fleeting speck of dust in the wind?”

Yu Xuan regarded the doppelganger with a mix of intrigue and skepticism. It seemed the trial revolved around facing questions and providing answers that resonated with the core of one’s heart. On the surface, it resembled a simple question-and-answer session, though shrouded in a grim and oppressive atmosphere. If the trial turned out to be nothing more than this, Yu Xuan knew he would feel deeply let down.

However, since this illusion posed the questions, Yu Xuan knew he had to answer them. Only by doing so could he hope to pass the trial.

He paused briefly, contemplating the question, before voicing his thoughts in response.

"Struggle is not the pursuit of victory, but the affirmation of life itself. To struggle is to proclaim, 'I exist.' The universe is vast and indifferent, its silence deafening, but in the throes of struggle, struggle defy that silence. My efforts carve meaning into the void, and in each moment of resistance, I become more than just a fleeting peck of dust."

"You ask why I struggle, why I persist. Must one have a grand purpose to justify the fight? For me, purpose is not some distant goal but a reflection of the self. I do not struggle for an end, but for the journey itself. The wind moves, and in its flow, I learn to adapt, to grow. The dust rises only to settle, yet in its brief ascent, it affirms its existence. To fight is to declare that I am here, that I live. To exist without purpose is to drift like a leaf carried aimlessly by the current. Perhaps I do not know the end, but I know that my steps must continue.”

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

The reflection’s smirk deepened, its expression challenging. “What if your path is another step toward failure? Can you still walk the path knowing it leads to defeat?”

Yu Xuan’s gaze did not falter. "Failure is not the enemy—it is the teacher. If my path leads to defeat, then I will embrace that defeat as fiercely as I embrace victory. Failure tempers the soul, teaching lessons victory never could. To walk a path knowing it may end in ruin is not foolishness; it is courage. It is the willingness to face the abyss and take the next step regardless.”

"If my steps lead to failure, then I will fail gloriously, leaving no regrets. True defeat is not in falling but in refusing to rise again. I would rather stumble forward, bloodied and unbroken, than stand paralyzed at the edge of fear. Even if my steps lead only to failure, I will walk. To walk, even toward defeat, is to live.”

The reflection’s sneer deepened, its voice laced with mockery. “Tell me this—if you push everyone away, who will mourn you when you fall? Can a path walked in solitude truly hold any meaning if no one is there to share it?”

Yu Xuan’s lips curled into a faint, enigmatic smile. His gaze turned inward, as though peering into the deepest recesses of his soul. When he spoke, his voice was soft, yet every word carried the weight of unshakable conviction.

"To walk a path alone is not to reject others, but to embrace the solitude necessary for understanding. Companionship is a gift, fleeting and cherished, yet the truest journey is one that no other can share. Who will mourn me when I fall? Perhaps no one. But does the bird sing for the applause of the forest? Does the sun rise for the gratitude of the earth? Their existence is their purpose, and so too is mine. My path matters because it is mine to walk, not because others tread it with me."

Yu Xuan paused, the silence between his words heavy with meaning. "The meaning of a path is not in its witnesses but in its traveler. Mourning is for those left behind; for the one who walks, it is the journey that defines them. If my fall goes unnoticed, it does not diminish the steps I took. The mountains climbed, the storms weathered, the stars glimpsed in moments of solitude—these are the truths that give the struggle meaning."

"To walk with others is a blessing, but it is not a necessity. A path shared is one of mutual growth, yet a path walked alone is one of profound discovery. The absence of mourners does not make the life unlived; it makes the journey purer, untethered by the expectations of others. I do not push others away to reject their warmth, but to ensure that my fire burns from within, not as a reflection of another's light."

"The struggle matters because it transforms me. It shapes the clay of my being, chisels away the falsehoods, and reveals the truth beneath. Whether others bear witness or not, the sculptor’s art remains. And when I fall, it will not be the mourning of others that gives my life meaning, but the fact that I dared to rise, to walk, and to fall again. That, in itself, is enough."

The reflection's tone turned sharp as it posed another question, as if it doubted Yu Xuan’s ability to answer. "Do you believe you are truly worthy of your aspirations? What have you done to deserve the heights you seek?"

"To speak of worthiness is to misunderstand the nature of aspiration. Worthiness is not a birthright, nor is it bestowed by the world. It is not something I claim—it is something I create. The heights I seek are not rewards; they are challenges, mirrors that reflect my willingness to strive, to endure, and to transform. To ask if I deserve them is to ask if the seed deserves the towering tree it will one day become."

He paused, letting the words linger. "I have done nothing to deserve the heights I seek, nor do I expect to. The summit does not ask who is worthy to climb it—it simply stands, waiting for those who dare. My worthiness is not measured by past accomplishments but by the steps I am willing to take now, in this moment, and the steps I will take after that."

Yu Xuan’s voice deepened, carrying the weight of a soul unafraid to face the unknown. "If someone demands proof, let my struggle be the answer. Let every failure and every rise stand as a proof to my resolve. I do not seek the heights for the sake of conquest, nor for the approval of gods or men. I seek them because they are there—because to stretch beyond my grasp is to affirm the boundlessness of my spirit."

His gaze lifted, as though piercing the heavy, darkened sky above him. When he spoke again, his voice carried the quiet strength of unshaken belief. "I do not claim to be worthy, yet I walk forward. Worth is not granted to the hesitant; it is build by those who dare to reach. And if, in the end, I fall short, it will not be failure but a proof to the courage it took to dream. For it is not the heights that define me—it is the act of striving for them that reveals who I truly am."

The reflection’s sneer darkened, and it spoke again. "If you were to fail today, what would you have left to show for all your struggles? Can you bear the thought of being forgotten?"

Yu Xuan closed his eyes briefly, his expression softening with a contemplative calm. When he opened them, his gaze held a depth that seemed to reach beyond time.

"If I were to fail today, there would be no monuments, no tales etched into the annals of history. But what would I have left? I would have the journey— the wisdom seared into my soul, and the fire of existence that burned, however briefly, against the infinite void. To strive and fail is not a tragedy; the true tragedy is never to have strived at all."

"What remains of a flame once extinguished? Not the warmth, not the light—but the memory of its defiance against the darkness. My struggles may vanish like the morning mist, my name may dissolve like ripples in a forgotten pond, but what matters is not the permanence of what I leave behind. It is that I burned brightly, that I stood against the abyss and declared, 'I was here.'"

A faint, bittersweet smile graced his lips. It was neither boastful nor sorrowful but carried the serenity of one who had made peace with his truth.

"As for being forgotten, let it be so. Does the mountain weep when the wind erases the footprints of those who climb it? Does the river mourn the passing of a single drop into the endless sea? The universe moves on, indifferent and eternal. To be remembered is not the goal. To have lived authentically, to have embraced the struggle, is enough."

Yu Xuan straightened his back as he said. "My struggles are not for others to see or remember. They are for me, for the sharpening of my spirit, for the creation of a self unyielding to despair. If the world forgets me, I shall not mourn, for in every step I took, every storm I endured, I proved to myself that I existed. That alone is enough.”