The Gilded Throne Hall of the Du estate stretched out in magnificent splendor, its walls lined with columns of what appeared to be pure gold. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, each one refracting light into rainbow patterns that danced across the marble floors.

At the center of this opulent display sat an elderly man on a throne that looked like it had been carved from a single massive jade boulder. He wore silk robes, and a crown of what appeared to be genuine celestial metals rested upon his silver hair. Despite his advanced age, his spiritual pressure radiated the kind of authority that could command mountains to move.

Beautiful young women in flowing silk dresses moved through the hall, carrying jade cups filled with heavenly wine and plates laden with otherworldly fruits.

This was Du Jinhuang, the Gold Emperor, patriarch of the Du Clan and one of the most powerful cultivators in the entire Realm of the Chosen. At least, that was what everyone in the hall believed.

The massive golden doors at the far end of the hall swung open with a deep, resonant tone that seemed to harmonize with the spiritual energy flowing through the palace.

Li Qiang stumbled through the entrance, his back bent under the weight of his unconscious master. Du Yanze's robes were torn and stained with dirt from the street, his carefully styled hair now disheveled and matted with blood.

The moment Du Jinhuang's eyes fell upon his grandson's limp form, his expression shifted from serene authority to grim concern.

"Leave us," he commanded, his voice carrying the kind of authority that made questioning the order physically impossible.

The beautiful servants immediately set down their burdens and flowed out of the hall. Within moments, only three figures remained in the vast space: the Gold Emperor, his unconscious grandson, and the loyal servant who had carried Du Yanze home.

Li Qiang gently lowered Du Yanze onto the steps before the throne, then straightened with obvious effort. His face was etched with the kind of exhaustion that came from watching someone you cared about destroy themselves over and over again.

Du Jinhuang descended from his throne, each step echoing through the suddenly quiet hall. When he reached the bottom, he knelt beside his grandson with the movements of someone who had done this many times before.

"It happened again, didn't it?" he asked quietly, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

Li Qiang nodded miserably, his shoulders sagging under more than just physical exhaustion. "I apologize, Your Imperial Majesty. I truly believed Young Master Yanze was ready to reenter the Crowned Heart Realm. The signs seemed so promising, and I thought... I thought that finally defeating Lu Wenjun would have resolved the Crisis of Doubt once and for all."

The old man sighed, a sound that carried the weight of decades of disappointment and frustration.

In the Realm of the Chosen, cultivation advancement came through unshakeable belief in one's own destiny, but it was precisely that belief that made failure so devastating. Each defeat didn't just damage the body or deplete spiritual energy; it attacked the very foundation of one's conviction.

A Crisis of Doubt was perhaps the most dangerous condition a cultivator could face in this realm. When belief wavered, when the certainty of one's chosenness cracked, it created a cascade effect that could unravel years of progress in minutes.

Du Yanze had been trapped in this cycle for nearly three years now, advancing to the Crowned Heart Realm only to have his confidence shattered by some humiliating defeat and falling back to the Proclamation realm.

Du Jinhuang knelt beside his grandson's still form, placing hands that glowed with soft golden light against the young man's temples. The healing technique was one of his signature abilities, drawing on his belief in his own imperial authority to command injuries to simply cease existing.

Under the influence of the healing energy, Du Yanze's wounds began to close, bruises faded from his skin, his breathing grew steadier, and after several minutes, his eyes fluttered open.

"Grandfather?" Du Yanze's voice was weak and confused as he struggled to focus on the ornate ceiling above him. "What... what happened? Where am I?"

"You're home, my boy," Du Jinhuang said gently, helping his grandson sit up. "Safe in the palace, where you belong."

Du Yanze looked around the magnificent throne room as if seeing it for the first time, taking in the golden walls, the flowing streams of precious metal, the impossible luxury that surrounded them. But instead of pride or satisfaction, his expression was one of growing despair.

"I failed again, didn't I?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Lu Wenjun... he defeated me again. And worse than that, I think... I think I made a complete fool of myself in front of his entire compound."

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The young man's face crumpled as fragmented memories of the battle began to return. He remembered the confident declarations, the elaborate speech about his destined victory, the moment when Lu Wenjun had touched his forehead and made all his carefully constructed beliefs simply... stop existing.

"The tree," Du Yanze continued, his voice growing hollow. "There was a tree in their courtyard. It spoke to me. It called me insignificant." He looked up at his grandfather with eyes that held no hope. "Even the trees think I'm worthless."

Du Jinhuang's heart ached as he watched his grandson's spirit crumble. In any other realm, failure in cultivation was disappointing but survivable. Here, where belief was the foundation of all power, each defeat was a spiritual wound that cut deeper than any physical injury.

"My child, there is something else," the old man said quickly, reaching for anything that might rekindle his grandson's faith. "Something I haven't told you yet. The signs have been building for months now, a Descent is coming. Perhaps within the next few days."

Du Yanze looked up with a flicker of interest, though skepticism still clouded his features. "A Descent?"

Li Qiang's eyes widened with obvious excitement. "Truly, Your Imperial Majesty? The higher beings will descend to choose vessels among us?"

Du Jinhuang nodded solemnly. "The astrologers have confirmed it. The celestial convergence approaches, when the barriers between realms grow thin enough for divine entities to project their consciousness into our world. They will seek worthy vessels, mortals of sufficient potential to serve as their earthly forms."

A Descent was the single most important event that could occur in any cultivator's life within the Realm of the Chosen. When beings from higher realms selected local inhabitants as vessels, it was the ultimate validation of one's destined greatness. The chosen vessel would gain access to powers and knowledge far beyond normal cultivation, their spiritual advancement accelerating at incredible speeds.

More importantly, being selected as a vessel provided unshakeable proof that one truly was chosen by fate itself. The psychological boost alone was often enough to catapult cultivators to breakthrough after breakthrough, as their absolute certainty in their own importance became self-reinforcing.

"The divine beings always seek those with the strongest potential," Du Jinhuang continued, his voice growing more confident as he spoke. "Those marked by destiny, those whose names are written in the cosmic records. I am certain, absolutely certain, that you will be among the chosen. How could you not be? You are my grandson, heir to imperial bloodline, marked by heaven itself!"

But instead of the hope and excitement the old man had been hoping to see, Du Yanze's expression only grew more bitter.

"You've been saying things like that for years, Grandfather," he said quietly. "Every setback was supposed to be temporary. Every defeat was just the universe testing my resolve. Every humiliation was preparation for my inevitable triumph. But when does it actually happen? When do I stop being the punchline and start being the hero?"

The young man struggled to his feet, swaying slightly as the last effects of the healing technique settled into his system. His robes were still torn from the battle, and despite his grandfather's ministrations, he looked exhausted both physically and spiritually.

"Maybe it's time I accepted the truth," Du Yanze continued, his voice growing stronger but also more defeated. "Maybe I'm not the chosen one. Maybe I'm just... ordinary. Maybe I should give up cultivation entirely and learn to live as a mortal."

Li Qiang gasped in horror. "Young Master, you mustn't say such things! Your potential is limitless! Your destiny…"

"My destiny is to be humiliated by trees," Du Yanze interrupted with a harsh laugh.

The loyal servant's face crumpled. "Young Master, I... I should have protected you better. I should have seen the signs, should have known you weren't ready to face Lu Wenjun. This is my failure, not yours."

Du Yanze turned to look at the man who had served his family for over twenty years, and his expression softened slightly. "Li Qiang, you've been more loyal than I ever deserved. You've stood by me through every defeat, every embarrassment, every time I've made a fool of myself and our family name. But it's not your fault that I'm not what we all hoped I could be."

The weight of those words hung in the air.

Li Qiang had indeed served the Du family faithfully since before Du Yanze was born, had watched the boy grow up believing himself destined for greatness, had shared in every hope and suffered through every disappointment.

It never occured to him that one day the young master would lose all hope...

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