Worldwide Class Change: Minimal Effort, Maximum Reward!

The journey through the passage connecting the Fourth and Fifth Gates stretched on, seeming to consume more time than any of the previous transitions he had experienced.

It was not a sudden realization, but rather a creeping awareness, much like the slow understanding of how much time has passed when one is in an environment utterly devoid of any markers or familiar reference points.

Within the mountain’s vast and unchanging interior, the ambient conditions remained remarkably consistent, making it incredibly difficult to gauge progress; the only truly dependable measure of his advancement was the stairway itself, each step steadily accumulating beneath his feet, the altitude subtly, yet persistently, increasing, just as it always did during a long and arduous climb. And so, he simply climbed, one foot after another, through the quiet, timeless space.

The nature of the pressure in this particular transition was markedly distinct from all the others he had encountered. Looking back, he recalled how the passage from the First to the Second Gate had exerted a general, overarching pressure upon his entire cultivation base, a broad test of his foundational strength.

Then, the path between the Second and Third Gates had narrowed its focus, pressing specifically against his understanding and application of the Law itself. Following that, the transition from the Third to the Fourth Gate had shifted again, challenging his attention, demanding unwavering concentration and mental fortitude.

Each preceding transition had been remarkably precise in the specific aspect it targeted, as if the mountain itself possessed a profound intelligence, carefully calibrating each section of the passage to meticulously prepare the candidate for the unique and specific assessment that lay just beyond. Yet, in this current, elongated transition, there was an inexplicable absence; it pressed against nothing at all.

He became acutely aware of this profound lack of pressure after only the first few minutes of his ascent, and instead of simply dismissing it as an anomaly, he chose to dwell on the observation with meticulous care.

All of the earlier transitions had been intensely active, the mountain actively imposing some form of challenge or demand upon him as he ascended.

This transition, however, was strangely inert; the vast climbing space situated between the Fourth and Fifth Gates offered no discernible interference, presented no resistance, and seemed to provide absolutely no form of preparation whatsoever. This unusual inactivity, this void of external influence, carried with it its own profound and unspoken message, a quiet communication that he sensed held significant weight for what lay ahead.

He found himself pondering what a passage utterly devoid of preparation might signify about the nature of the challenge to come. His mind drifted back to the preceding gates, each of which had, at least in part, been somewhat predictable or assessable beforehand. He recalled how Xu Ling had provided him with a clear description of the Third Gate’s content even before he stepped inside.

The Fourth Gate, in its own enigmatic way, had revealed its nature by requiring the synthesis of all the materials and lessons gathered from the previous gates. In essence, every gate he had faced until now had been approachable, its demands understandable, through the framework of knowledge and understanding that the previous passages had meticulously constructed.

Therefore, a transition that offered absolutely no preparatory experience strongly suggested a gate that could not be approached, or perhaps even understood, through the accumulation of prior knowledge or established patterns. He continued his climb, internalizing this weighty conclusion, holding it firmly in his mind without any trace of distress or apprehension, accepting its profound implications with calm resolve.

The stairway ahead of him began to curve multiple times, a noticeable shift in the mountain’s internal geometry at this elevated altitude.

Unlike the more linear passages he had navigated in the lower transitions, the path now wound and snaked through the mountain’s vast interior in a way that made his vertical progress feel unexpectedly slower than the sheer number of accumulated steps beneath his feet would typically indicate. Despite this, he made no attempt to hasten his pace.

Here, within these silent, winding passages, the mountain itself dictated the rhythm of the journey, and its deliberate, unhurried pace was the one he now adhered to.

Then, at some undefined point during this long, winding ascent, a subtle shift occurred, and he slowly became aware that the quality of the light within the stairway had undergone a profound change.

Throughout the mountain’s interior, from the moment he had entered the First Gate all the way up through the Fourth, the illumination had been a consistent, sourceless ambient glow. It was always the same diffuse, even light, emanating from no identifiable source and casting no shadows, a uniform radiance that permeated everything.

But here, in this new transition, it was different. It wasn’t necessarily brighter, but rather, it possessed a quality that was decidedly more specific. The light now carried a distinct directionality, a characteristic that none of the lower transitions had ever exhibited; the illumination, he realized, was coming distinctly from above, rather than from all directions simultaneously, as it had before.

His gaze naturally lifted, following the new, directional light up the long, curving stairway. There, far above, at the very end of the ascending path, the source revealed itself: the Fifth Gate. It was clearly visible now, not as a structure, but as an intense concentration of light, a luminous beacon marking the upper boundary of the transition.

The gate itself was actively providing its own illumination, casting its light downwards through the passage, a silent invitation reaching him long before he could physically reach the gate. With this clear destination now in sight, he resumed his climb, moving steadily towards the radiant point.

As he continued his ascent, the light grew increasingly potent, its presence more pronounced, and its unique directionality became even more sharply defined with every step he took, drawing him closer. With this intensified presence came a new, subtle quality, one that he identified slowly and meticulously, taking great care before finally allowing himself to name it.

He understood that to name it incorrectly would be an error of a different, perhaps more fundamental, kind than simply leaving it unnamed altogether. The light, he eventually recognized, was the potential-color. It was the very same hue he had consistently observed in the sky above the interior platforms, that peculiar quality he had looked up at ever since he stood on the First Gate’s platform.

It was the distinctive color that the sky of Tianyuan Star carried at a certain, very high altitude, a color he had never truly been able to articulate or categorize except as "potential." This ethereal color, which had previously manifested as an ambient quality in the upper sky and then subtly permeated the various platform spaces, was now, here within this passage, organized and condensed into the directional illumination emanating directly from the Fifth Gate’s own material.