317: Chapter 317, First Level

The stone steps wound upward through the morning mist, polished smooth by countless feet.

Ling Ye did not rush to sprint like those ahead of him; instead, he maintained his own rhythm, taking it one step at a time with steady breathing.

He knew that the key to long-distance running was not starting speed, but stamina management—in the Star Gate World, he had experienced far too many long-distance raids in desperate situations, and this lesson had long been ingrained into his instincts.

The mountain path was flanked by dense woods, the autumn leaves already turning yellow. Occasionally, a few fallen leaves would drift down in spirals, landing on the stone steps, only to be crushed by the passing crowd with faint crackling sounds.

The air was cool and crisp, carrying the scent of soil and vegetation. That strange energy still permeated the air, seeping into his body with every breath.

Ling Ye could feel that his stamina was recovering faster than usual—it was not an illusion; the environment of this world was subtly influencing his body.

After running for about a quarter of an hour, he began to catch up with those who had started too aggressively and were now beginning to slow down.

A chubby youth was leaning on his knees by the roadside, gasping for air, his face flushed red.

A tall, thin young man was clutching a tree trunk by the roadside, hunched over and retching, though nothing came out.

Ling Ye did not look back as he passed them, merely maintaining his steady pace as he continued upward.

The stone steps became increasingly steep.

The line had stretched out significantly—the few people at the very front had already disappeared from view, those in the middle echelon were scattered sparsely along the winding mountain path, and at the very back, some were struggling to move, their steps unsteady, clearly lacking in regular physical training.

Ling Ye was in a position slightly ahead of the middle of the pack.

He did not deliberately accelerate to catch up with the front echelon, nor did he slow down because of those behind him.

He simply followed his own rhythm, one step at a time, steadily moving upward.

About half an hour later, he saw the legendary Half-Mountain Pavilion.

It was a simple stone pavilion built on a protruding cliff face. Four stone pillars supported a gray-tiled roof, and inside the pavilion stood a stone tablet engraved with the three characters for "Half-Mountain Pavilion."

A Green-robed Disciple stood beside the pavilion, holding a roster and recording the names of those passing by.

The few people at the very front had already arrived and were resting in the pavilion, some drinking water, others wiping off sweat.

As Ling Ye passed the pavilion, the Green-robed Disciple glanced at him and asked, "Name?"

"Ling Ye."

The Green-robed Disciple made a note on the roster without saying anything more.

Ling Ye did not stop either, continuing to run down the stone steps—it was easier to climb up than to go down, and the steep stone steps placed significant stress on his knees. He adjusted his stride, slightly bending his knees to reduce the impact of each step.

On the return journey, he overtook several people who had been ahead of him on the way up.

Some of them were slowly inching their way down while holding onto the railings, while others were simply sitting by the roadside rubbing their legs. When they saw Ling Ye pass by, their eyes revealed expressions of surprise and resentment.

Ling Ye paid no mind and continued to maintain his own rhythm.

When he saw the stone archway again, there was about the time of a cup of tea remaining in the one-and-a-half-hour limit.

Over a dozen people were already standing on the stone platform; they were the first batch to arrive.

The middle-aged man in the dark green robe stood under the archway, watching the returning crowd with an expressionless face.

Ling Ye crossed the archway and stopped at the edge of the stone platform, bending over to support himself on his knees while adjusting his breathing.

His heart was beating fast, but not irregularly; his legs were aching, but he was far from his limit.

He straightened up, found an inconspicuous corner to stand in, and quietly waited for the time to expire.

When the one-and-a-half hours were up, the middle-aged man raised his hand, and the Green-robed Disciple guarding the archway closed the roster.

About a third of the people had not returned—they were eliminated, with no room for negotiation.

The middle-aged man scanned the remaining people on the stone platform—about 120 or 130 in total—and then spoke: "Rest for half an hour. Gather here at the third quarter of the Chen hour to proceed to the second stage."

A sound of relief rippled through the crowd.

Some immediately collapsed onto the ground, some pulled out water bottles to gulp down water, and some ran to the shade of nearby trees to lie down.

Ling Ye also found a spot to sit down, took out the steamed bun Old Shi had prepared, and slowly chewed on it, replenishing his energy bit by bit.

He looked up in the direction of the mountain peak.

The morning mist had mostly dissipated, revealing the gray-tiled roofs hidden among the trees above the mountainside.

That was the core area of the Qingyun Sect, the place he was to enter next.

Two more stages to go.