CHAPTER 4: CHAPTER 4

After what felt like an eternity of marching through increasingly desolate terrain, Ethan finally arrived at his destination.

The law enforcement disciples came to a halt at the foot of what could only be described as a monument to ancient power—the Ancestors’ Tomb of the Azure Origin Dao Sect.

Before them stood a massive stone tablet, easily twice the height of a grown man, its surface covered in intricate carvings that seemed to pulse with residual spiritual energy.

The characters etched into the rock were bold and commanding, their message unmistakable:

"This Tomb is the most sacred place in the Azure Origin Dao Sect, saturated with extreme Yin energy. No one is permitted to enter unless specifically commanded to do so by the Sect Leadership."

The very air around the tablet seemed to vibrate with warning, as if the words themselves carried the weight of divine decree.

Ethan could feel the oppressive spiritual pressure emanating from the monument, making his skin crawl with an instinctive fear of the unknown.

As they walked further into the forbidden territory, Ethan’s eyes fell upon a sight that took his breath away—the Serene Mirror Lake itself.

The lake stretched before him like a vast sheet of polished obsidian, its surface so perfectly still that it reflected the overcast sky with supernatural clarity.

The water was an unnatural shade of deep blue-black, so dark that it seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. Wisps of ethereal mist drifted across the surface like ghostly fingers, and the temperature around the water was noticeably colder than the already frigid air.

Ancient willows lined the shore, their drooping branches touching the water’s edge with an almost reverent gesture.

The entire scene possessed an otherworldly beauty that was both captivating and deeply unsettling—like staring into the eyes of something that was never meant to be seen by the living.

As Ethan stood there taking in the haunting magnificence of his prison, a figure suddenly materialized before him as if stepping out of thin air itself.

"Junior greets Senior!" Ethan immediately dropped into a respectful bow, his survival instincts overriding his despair.

In a cultivation world, showing proper respect to one’s elders was often the difference between life and death.

The old man who had appeared was ancient beyond measure, his weathered face marked by countless years and his gray beard flowing down to his chest like a waterfall of silver.

His eyes, however, were sharp and alert, holding depths of wisdom and power that made Ethan’s physical cultivation seem like a child’s toy in comparison.

"Who are you, and what transgression brought you to this place?" the elder asked, his voice carrying the flat, emotionless tone of someone who had witnessed too much to be surprised by anything.

Before Ethan could formulate a response, one of the law enforcement disciples stepped forward and bowed deeply to the elder.

"Greetings, Elder. This is Ethan, a disciple from the outer sect. He was caught... observing the female hot spring area and has been sentenced to remain here for fifty years as punishment."

The elder’s gaze shifted to Ethan, his ancient eyes becoming unreadable as they studied the young man before him.

After a long moment of uncomfortable silence, he let out a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

"The sect sends people to the ancestral tomb for such minor offenses now," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone present.

"In my day, such things were handled with a simple beating and extra chores."

He waved a dismissive hand at the law enforcement disciples. "Very well, leave him with me. You may depart."

The two disciples bowed once more before turning and walking away, leaving Ethan alone with the mysterious elder.

Their footsteps gradually faded into the distance until only the sound of gentle lapping water remained.

"Follow me," the elder commanded, turning and walking deeper into the forbidden territory.

As Ethan fell into step behind him, the elder’s voice took on a note of amused curiosity.

"You’re a physical cultivator, aren’t you?"

"Yes, Senior," Ethan replied simply, unsure of what else to say.

"Fascinating," the elder mused.

"That’s quite rare these days. Most people simply choose to live ordinary lives when they discover they lack spiritual roots and cultivation talent. The fact that you persevered in physical training shows considerable determination... or perhaps stubbornness."

They walked in contemplative silence for several more minutes until Ethan spotted something that made him stop in his tracks—a small village nestled in a valley between low hills.

Dozens of simple wooden huts dotted the landscape, smoke rising from a few chimneys to indicate habitation.

The elder noticed Ethan’s surprise and gestured toward the settlement.

"There are many empty huts available. Choose whichever one appeals to you and settle in. This will be your home for the duration of your sentence."

He paused, his expression becoming more serious.

"Your daily duty will be to clean and maintain the ancestors’ tomb for six hours each day. The rest of your time is your own—you may fish in the lake, swim if you’re brave enough to handle the cold, read, meditate, or whatever else helps pass the years."

The elder’s tone grew stern as he continued.

"However, you are absolutely forbidden from leaving the ten-kilometer radius around this place. I have placed a spiritual marker on your body that will alert me if you attempt to go beyond the designated boundary. Should you violate this restriction, your sentence will be extended by an additional twenty years."

Ethan felt a chill that had nothing to do with the ambient temperature as he realized the full scope of his imprisonment.

"And," the elder added with a meaningful look, "refrain from engaging in the activities that brought you here in the first place. Follow the rules posted on that massive stone in the center of the village. Breaking those rules will result in... unpleasant consequences."

With that final warning, the elder simply vanished as suddenly as he had appeared, leaving Ethan standing alone in the growing twilight.

For several minutes, Ethan remained motionless, the reality of his situation slowly sinking in.

Then, as if someone had opened a freezer door, bone-chilling cold began to seep through his clothes and into his very bones.

I just arrived here and it’s already this cold, he thought with growing alarm. What’s it going to be like when winter truly sets in?

Panic lending speed to his movements, Ethan ran toward the village, scanning for an available hut.

As he passed other buildings, he caught glimpses of faces peering out at him through windows and doorways—other condemned souls who watched the newest arrival with a mixture of curiosity and pity.

What could he have done to end up here? their expressions seemed to ask. What crime brought this young man to our frozen hell?

Ethan found an empty hut in a corner of the village, far from the others.

The isolation suited him perfectly—he had no desire to explain his situation to anyone or endure their judgment.

The interior was spartan to the point of being depressing: bare wooden walls, a small fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been used in years, and a thin cloth spread on the floor that apparently served as a bed. There was no furniture, no decoration, no comfort of any kind.

Ethan collapsed onto the makeshift bed, pulling the inadequate covering around himself as he tried to process everything that had happened.

Just hours ago, he had been on the verge of becoming an inner sect disciple. Now he was a prisoner in a frozen wasteland, condemned to spend the next fifty years of his life in isolation and misery.

As exhaustion finally overtook despair, Ethan closed his eyes and tried to sleep, wondering if he would ever feel warm again—or if he even wanted to, given what his future held.