Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

Long Aotian reached the 700th floor.

He had already pushed his Heavenly Dragon Technique to its limit, his entire body radiating dazzling golden light, like a golden-armored war god. But he had also reached his limit—his bones were cracking, fine cracks were appearing on his skin, and blood was seeping out, staining his golden robe with specks of plum blossoms.

"Seven hundred floors..." Long Aotian gasped for breath, looking up at the seemingly endless ladder to heaven. He grinned, revealing a mouthful of bloody teeth. "Three hundred more floors to go, I can do it!"

He took a deep breath, roared, and forcefully stepped onto the 701st floor.

The pressure has increased dramatically!

"Pfft—" A mouthful of blood spurted out, and Long Aotian's body suddenly sank, but he gritted his teeth and stubbornly refused to kneel down.

702nd floor.

Every step felt like carrying a mountain. His knees began to tremble, and his calf muscles twitched violently.

703 floors.

"Long Aotian, you're destined to become a Heavenly Dragon!" he roared at himself. "Why are you kneeling?!"

704th floor.

The moment his foot touched the ground, his left knee snapped with a crack, landing squarely on the step. Cracks, like pebbles, spread from his knee down.

"Get up!" He braced himself on the ground with his hands, veins bulging, his whole body trembling as he tried to stand up. But the pressure was like a mountain, pressing him down firmly, as if an invisible hand was pressing on his back.

Just then, a voice resounded in his heart—not the interrogation of the Heavenly Ladder, but the lingering thought left by his long-deceased master before his death:

"Aotian, your path is 'unyielding.' But unyielding strength is easily broken. Do you understand?"

He suddenly stood up!

In that instant, the pressure suddenly increased—the peak of the third level of the Grandmaster realm!

The force was like an invisible giant hammer smashing down on him, pressing him down so that his spine made a teeth-grinding "crunch".

"I—reject—this—!" he roared in his final fury.

Then, his body was enveloped in a soft white light and he was flung away.

Long Aotian stopped at the 705th floor.

A flash of white light, and he landed awkwardly at the foot of the Heavenly Ladder, sprawling on his back in the dust. The surrounding rogue cultivators all turned to look.

"What are you looking at!" Long Aotian sprang to his feet, wiped the blood from his face, and stared at the figures still climbing the ladder above, his eyes burning with an indomitable flame.

"Dongfang Weiwo... Chu Yunxiao... you just wait! Next time, I'll definitely climb higher than you!"

Seven hundred floors, the pressure is equivalent to the third level of a Grandmaster.

The four sword disciples of the Four Extremes Sword Sect supported each other and formed a sword formation to share the pressure.

Xie Changkong stood in the center, his longsword drawn, its light as sharp as water. He glanced at his three junior brothers and sisters and shouted in a deep voice, "Four Extremes Sword Formation, activate!"

"Rise!" Ye Guhong, Ouyang Xue, and Meng Hanshuang responded simultaneously.

Four sword lights shot into the sky, intertwining in the air to form a massive sword formation. The sword light flowed like a blooming four-colored lotus flower, enveloping the four people within it. The sword formation slowly rotated, distributing the external pressure among the four people, reducing the burden on each of them by 30%.

750 floors.

Eight hundred floors.

Upon reaching this point, the sword formation finally gave way.

The pressure from the fourth level of the Grandmaster realm was like a tangible tsunami, crashing down on the sword formation one after another. The four longswords groaned under the strain, the sword formation trembled violently, and cracks began to appear at the edges of the four-colored lotus flowers.

"Click—"

With a crisp sound, the longsword in Ouyang Xue's hand broke first!

"Ah!" Ouyang Xue's face turned deathly pale, and she spat out a mouthful of blood, her whole body being thrown away by the pressure.

"Xiaoxue!" Xie Changkong reached out to grab it, but only managed to grab a corner of her clothes.

Immediately afterward, Meng Hanshuang's sword formation nodes collapsed. She made no sound, only took a deep look at her three fellow disciples, before being engulfed by white light.

Only Xie Changkong and Ye Guhong remained in the sword formation.

The pressure suddenly doubled, and both of them groaned simultaneously, blood trickling from the corners of their mouths.

Xie Changkong looked at Ye Guhong. This second junior brother was always taciturn, and at this moment his face was pale, but his eyes remained as calm as a deep pool.

"If we go any higher, we'll be crushed too," Xie Changkong said with a wry smile.

Ye Guhong nodded and said calmly, "Rather than being thrown away, it's better to walk on your own. That's more dignified."

The two smiled at each other—this was the first time in more than ten years of knowing each other that they truly understood each other.

"Let's go." Xie Changkong sheathed his sword.

"Let's go." Ye Guhong also sheathed his sword.

Both of them took a step back at the same time.

A flash of white light, and all four sword disciples of the Four Extremes Sword Sect stopped at the 800th floor.

At the foot of the Heavenly Ladder, the four reunited. Ouyang Xue, her eyes red-rimmed, said, "I'm sorry, I've dragged everyone down..."

Xie Changkong shook his head and patted her shoulder: "No, we came here together. No one from the Four Extremes Sword Sect has fallen behind."

He looked up at the figures still climbing the ladder, a hint of awe flashing in his eyes: "Those who can continue to climb... are true monsters."

Eight hundred floors, the pressure is equivalent to the fourth level of a Grandmaster.

Only a handful of people were able to continue.

Chu Yunxiao, Li Tianxing, Ye Xingchen, Wu Zhao, Dongfang Mingyue, Wangwo, Guiyuan, Dongfang Weiwo.

Eight people.

Below the Heavenly Ladder, the eliminated prodigies looked up at the eight figures, discussing amongst themselves.

"Eight people...only eight people can reach the 800th floor or higher!"

"Chu Yunxiao and Li Tianxing weren't surprised, and neither was Wu Zetian... but who is this Dongfang Weiwo? The second young master of the Weeping Blood Marquis's mansion? I've never heard of him before."

"Shh, keep your voice down. Didn't you see him walking at the very back after the 500th floor, yet every step he took was as steady as if he were nailed to the ground? This guy is unfathomable!"

Nine Hundred Floors: The Real Showdown

Nine hundred floors, the pressure is equivalent to the fifth level of a Grandmaster.

At this moment, the eight people on the ladder stood in a row, only a few steps apart from each other. Each of them had a solemn expression, and their clothes were soaked with sweat, but not one of them retreated.

The pressure here is not only physical, but also mental.

With each step I climbed, a voice in my mind questioned—

"What is your martial art?"

What are you fighting for?

"Do you deserve the title of a strongman?"

Ye Xingchen silently walked up to the 901st floor, his face as calm as a stagnant pool.

But no one knew that the old man was burning his remnant soul to provide him with power in the inconspicuous black ring on his right ring finger.

"Young man..." The old man's voice was weak and aged, as if it came from a great distance, "I can't hold on for much longer. At most, I'll reach the 950th floor. You'll have to rely on yourself."

Ye Xingchen's eyelids twitched, her lips moved slightly, and her voice was so low that only she could hear it: "That's enough. Thank you, senior."

"Don't thank me..." the old man gave a wry smile, "I just... wanted to see how far you could go..."

Wu Zetian remained silent and strode forward.

Her steps were unpretentious, just one step at a time, each step causing the heavenly ladder to tremble.

Her trump card was her powerful, dragon-like blood and qi. When pressure came, her blood and qi would automatically boil, like a real dragon roaring within her, or an ancient giant elephant surging through her veins. That immense life force forcefully pushed back the pressure, even producing a deep, rumbling sound.

"Come on!" she roared, her long hair flying wildly, her eyes burning with fighting spirit.

Dongfang Mingyue walked in front of her younger brother, gritting her teeth, her face flushed.

"Sister." Dongfang Weiwo's voice came from behind, calm and deep, yet carrying a reassuring strength, "Don't push yourself. If you can't hold on, then retreat."

Dongfang Mingyue didn't turn around, but nodded vigorously, silently thinking: If my little brother can hold on, I, as his older sister, can't be too disgraced.

He walked in sixth place, seemingly oblivious to everything, enveloped in a halo of Buddha's light, his steps calm and composed.

"Amitabha Buddha." He chanted the Buddha's name softly, his face serene, with even a faint smile on his lips.

Guiyuan was in the seventh position, surrounded by pure energy, with a calm expression.

Dongfang Weiwo walked last.

He looked the most relaxed of all.

There was no external release of true energy, no secret techniques to activate it, no Buddha's light to protect the body, and no pure energy swirling around it.

He walked on, step by step, unhurriedly, as if he were not climbing a ladder to heaven, but strolling in his own backyard.

950th floor: People start to fall.

Nine hundred and fifty floors, the pressure is equivalent to the sixth level of a Grandmaster.

At this level, the pressure has become terrifyingly intense.

The air seemed to solidify, and every step felt like struggling in glue. Breathing became difficult, as if my lungs were being squeezed. My vision began to blur, and my ears were ringing.

Veins bulged on Chu Yunxiao's forehead, and sweat poured down his face like rain. His steps began to falter, each one feeling like walking on a knife's edge.

But he didn't stop.

Li Tianxing's demonic shadow also dimmed a bit, and a trace of imperceptible fatigue flashed in his purple pupils.

Ye Xingchen's ring has stopped glowing, and the old man's power is about to run out.

Wu Zetian's blood and qi were still boiling, but the speed had obviously slowed down.

Dongfang Mingyue had bitten her lips until they bled, and blood was dripping down her chin. Her legs were trembling, but she still followed her younger brother closely.

The selfless Buddha light began to flicker, and the pure energy of returning to the origin was no longer so stable.

And the East is mine alone...

His brows finally furrowed slightly.