The guard blinked at me.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your entry requirements," I said. "Foundation Establishment cultivation or higher. I'd like to discuss them."
The guard exchanged a look with his partner. The partner shrugged. The first guard turned back to me, clearly not prepared for this conversation.
"It is... the rule of the sect that controls this gate."
"Which sect?"
"The Frost Gate Sect."
"And what's the legal basis for the Foundation Establishment requirement? Is it sect policy? Realm regulation? Or did someone make it up because it sounded impressive?"
The guard's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"It is— The realm is dangerous. Foundation Establishment is the minimum required to survive."
"I see. Do you have mortality statistics for Foundation Establishment entrants versus lower-level entrants?"
"Mortality statistics?"
"Numbers. Data. How many people go in at Foundation Establishment versus below Foundation Establishment, and what percentage come out alive?"
The guard looked at his partner again. "Do we have that?"
"I don't think we have that," the partner said.
"You don't have that," I confirmed. "So your rule is based on tradition, not data. You're enforcing a requirement that you can't prove saves lives."
"The sect elder set the rule—"
"Then let me talk to the sect elder."
The guard hesitated. He looked at Lin Mei — her robes, her sword, her aura of untouchable frost. He looked at Han — not impressive, but holding a shovel with quiet confidence. He looked at me — poisoned, exhausted, wearing a shirt that had been through at least three fights and a tavern explosion.
"I will get the sect elder," he said.
He vanished into a building I hadn't noticed — a small stone structure at the edge of the plateau, half-hidden by snow.
Lin Mei looked at me.
"You just asked a cultivator for mortality statistics."
"Standard procedure."
"In what world?"
"The one I came from."
The sect elder emerged five minutes later.
He was old. Not "old for a cultivator" old — truly old, the kind of old where the years had etched themselves into every line of his face. He walked with a staff that he clearly needed, not one he carried for show. His eyes were sharp, though. Sharp and amused.
"Guard says you want to discuss entry requirements," he said.
"That's right."
"He also says you asked for mortality statistics."
"I did."
The elder smiled. It was a tired expression, etched into a face that had seen decades of weather and solitude, but it was genuine.
"I've been the gatekeeper of this realm for forty years. In that time, I've had exactly three people question the Foundation Establishment rule. All three were Foundation Establishment or higher, complaining that the rule was too low and that they deserved priority access. You're the first person below Foundation Establishment to argue that the rule is arbitrary."
"Because it is."
"I know."
"Wait, you know it's arbitrary and you kept the rule anyway?"
"Forty years of tradition. You don't just throw that out because someone with a clipboard asks the right question." He smiled again. "But I respect the attempt."
"You know?"
"I set the rule forty years ago based on a guess. I had no data. I still have no data. But I can't exactly tell people that the gate to a legendary secret realm has no safety standards, so I picked a number that sounded reasonable. Foundation Establishment rolls off the tongue."
The elder shrugged.
"Foundation Establishment sounds official. It has 'foundation' in the name. It implies a base level of competence. In reality, I've seen Qi Condensation cultivators survive the realm and Nascent Soul cultivators die in the first room. The rule is a suggestion dressed up as a regulation."
"Then why enforce it?"
"Because if I let everyone in, the realm would be stripped bare in a month. The rule exists not to protect entrants but to limit traffic. It's a gatekeeping mechanism, not a safety standard."
I stared at him. He stared back.
"You just admitted that your entry requirement is a lie designed to limit foot traffic."
"Yes."
"And you're telling me this because..."
"Because you're the first person in four decades who asked the right question. I respect that."
He reached into his robe and produced a token — a small disc of carved ice, glowing faintly with internal light.
"This is a Sect Seal. It marks you as a sanctioned entrant. Take it. Enter the realm. Find your lotus. And if you happen to find a Frost Gate Sect artifact inside — a broken bell, a cracked tablet, anything with our seal — bring it back. We lost a few things in there over the years."
"A fetch quest."
"It's a cultivation world. Everything's a fetch quest."
The elder handed me the token. It was cold. So cold it burned.
Lin Mei stepped forward, her hand on her sword hilt. Her voice was formal again, but softer than before. "This one thanks you for your generosity, Elder. This one will not forget this kindness."
The elder looked at her. Something flickered in his eyes. Recognition, maybe. Pity, maybe.
"Frost Flower Fairy," he said. "I've seen your kind before. You're looking for the Lotus."
"Yes."
"It's in the central chamber. Past the ice labyrinth. Past the guardian. If it's real at all."
"You believe it might not be?"
"I believe that heavenly treasures are usually just regular treasures with good marketing."
Lin Mei's composure didn't crack. But I saw her grip tighten on her sword.
"Thank you for the warning, Elder."
"Don't thank me yet. The realm doesn't care about your wishes."
He turned and walked back toward his building, his staff clicking against the ice in a steady rhythm.
"One more thing," he called over his shoulder. "The guardian. It doesn't fight like a normal beast. It fights like it's following instructions. Don't treat it like a monster. Treat it like a puzzle."
He disappeared into the building.
Lin Mei looked at the gate. At me. At Han.
"This one is ready if you are."
I stepped toward the gate. The token in my hand glowed brighter as I approached, resonating with the carved frost of the archway. The air grew colder. The ice began to shimmer.
"Before we go in," Han said, "I just want to note for the record that we are entering an A-rank secret realm with three people, one of whom is actively poisoned, another of whom is armed only with a shovel, and the third of whom has been a jade beauty for two centuries and is currently having an existential crisis."
"I'm not having an existential crisis," Lin Mei said.
"You literally told us you were sealed with a purpose and don't remember who you used to be."
"That's not a crisis. That's a background condition."
I laughed. Han sighed. Lin Mei looked between us, confused.
"You're doing it again," she said.
"Doing what?"
"Using words that don't mean what this one— what I think they mean."
I caught it. The switch. "What I think" instead of "what this one thinks." She didn't seem to notice.
"You're getting better at that," I said.
"At what?"
"Talking like a person."
She blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it. A small crease appeared between her eyebrows — the closest thing to an unscripted expression I'd seen from her.
"Let's go," she said.
I pressed the token against the gate.
The ice flared white. The world twisted. For a moment, I was standing on a frozen plateau under a grey sky. The next moment, I was standing in a wasteland under a sky that was purple.
The gate had closed behind us.
The Frostbite Realm stretched before us — an endless plain of cracked ice under a sky the color of bruises. In the distance, a palace of frozen spires rose against the horizon, catching the purple light and scattering it into a thousand colors.
My system pinged.
Not a danger warning this time. Something else.
[SUPPORT TICKET #48291 — FOLLOW-UP] [FROM: ANONYMOUS PROTAGONIST] [SUBJECT: RE: MASTER BETRAYED THIS ONE — WHAT TO DO?] [BODY: Esteemed senior, this one did as you said. Master is still gone. This one has nothing.]
I paused. Han was staring at the ice palace. Lin Mei was scanning the horizon for threats. Neither of them noticed me typing.
Good. Now you can start over.
I hit send.
The ticket closed. The palace loomed. The cold bit through my clothes.
Lin Mei drew her sword. The blade caught the purple light and shone like frozen fire.
"The Frozen Lotus awaits," she said.
She paused. Her mouth opened. Closed.
Then, in a voice that was quiet and tired and completely unguarded: "Thank you. For coming with me. It means more than I can say."
She caught herself. Her eyes went wide for just a fraction of a second.
And then she smiled.
It was small. Uncertain. The smile of someone who had forgotten how to do it and was trying for the first time in two hundred years.
"Let's go," she said.
I smiled back.
"Lead the way."