"Oh lord of the mountain, please accept this humble gift from the Xiao clan," an elderly man with a long, pointy beard and a face full of wrinkles slowly put down a small stone statue of a pavilion.
This recently found artifact was mysterious and oozed with an unfamiliar aura, and after many unsuccessful attempts to find any use for the artifact, they decided to present it to the most mysterious and powerful entity within reach: the lord of the mountain.
Family records showed that the lord of the mountain saved the Xiao clan seven generations ago from an enemy attack, and since then they have called the mountain their home. No one was allowed to step within 1,000 miles of the mountaintop, and gifts would be sent through the specifically built altar.
No one had seen the lord of the mountain within this generation, yet everyone knew he was alive. Offerings of resources, artifacts, or techniques to the mountain lord always vanished within the day, and since the mountain was heavily guarded, no one could steal them even if they dared to do so in the first place.
The old man clad in luxurious clothing left shortly after leaving the object behind, hoping for the mountain lord to be pleased.
Meanwhile, on top of the mountain, shrouded in mist and clouds, a young-looking man sat on an even, carved-out surface. Around him, multiple arrays condensed the spiritual energy within the air, making it thicker and purer for him to consume.
He sat there in complete silence without moving a muscle or even breathing at all; one could think he was dead, yet spiritual energy constantly rushed towards him, creating a small vortex constantly on the mountain.
After some time passed, suddenly an object appeared next to him out of nowhere. It was the same pavilion-shaped statue put down by the old man before. The man, looking no older than 30, inspected the statue with an inkling of curiosity but mostly habit.
He would inspect each and every item sent to him: resources, artifacts, endless amounts of spirit stones, martial techniques, and more. He would inspect them, deem them useful or useless to him, and either use the items or learn the techniques if useful or store away the useless items.
Then, after the storage was full, he would create a hurricane of all of these items and let them fall from the sky in random locations. Locals called these events the miracles of the mountain lord, yet to the young man it was just taking out the trash.
He came from a large family and grew up with a spoon in his mouth. He received resources from young and quickly cultivated to a level unheard of within his age. He loved cultivating, and so he did, day after day, night after night. He was called a cultivation maniac, someone who would cultivate without any rest.
Later, as he was entangled in different schemes and intrigues due to his likely ascent to be the eventual family head and the involvement of high-ranking elders urging him to participate in more and more social events and gatherings to form his allegiances, he promptly just ran away.
His birth parents died anyway shortly after his birth, and the rest of the family wanted to separate him from the only thing he truly enjoyed. Cultivating.
He promptly learned a technique to disguise himself and ran away decisively. Since then, nobody from his old family has found him. Running away wasn't easy; he had to survive on his own and face monsters and humans for resources. He mostly avoided the humans so he wouldn't be detected and slayed monsters for resources. And that was where he found his second passion. Fighting.
It may sound like he was a violent maniac fighting wild animals, but he was quite the opposite. He liked to fight with grace and mercy. If an animal or human didn't go for the kill, he wouldn't do so as well. Only if they truly aimed to kill him would he deliver a killing blow.
The goal of fighting for him after all was not to kill or establish dominance; it was for his freedom and trying out different fighting styles and techniques, different weapons, and stances. In the end, fighting was about getting better and pushing the body to its limit, just like cultivation.
He acquired resources and cultivated; he traveled through the lands and searched for the best conditions. In the end, after countless years, he settled down on the mountain after slaying some humans going after his life and coincidentally also after the lives of multiple clans with countless resources. These nine clans established their bases around the mountain and called him the mountain lord; meanwhile, he could cultivate to his heart's content with infinite resources.
By the time the event took place, he had long ago forgotten his own name, but that was not a problem for him. Cultivation, cultivation, cultivation, and some fighting. That was important, not his name.
Looking back at the object in his hands, a gleam passed through his eyes. He couldn't see the function of the artifact. He turned the artifact, pressed it together, and inserted small amounts of spiritual energy and more; yet he could not provoke a reaction within the artifact, even though it was clearly meant to be used by someone.
He took the artifact with him and sat down on his usual cultivation spot. He placed the artifact in front of him again and, with all of the surrounding arrays and his own spiritual energy, tried to pierce through the artifact.
No reaction again? He was about to give up until suddenly something happened. The artifact trembled slightly, and he was suddenly sucked into the artifact.
He hectically tried to figure out what was going on as he suddenly stood in front of a huge building. It looked somewhat like the pavilion of the stone statue but had exactly 100 numbered floors.
The mountain lord quickly realized what was happening: his physical body was still on the outside, and his inner soul was within the artifact. His physical body within the artifact seemed to be an exact replica of his. This was clearly a trial.
He stepped closer to the tower, and as he was about to enter, a booming voice resounded. "Clear a floor to be rewarded; clear all floors to ascend boundaries."
The mountain lord, without any hesitation, stepped into the first floor.