It was only when the smell of rust hit his nostrils that Li Qingshi truly realized he was in deep trouble.
His head throbbed dully. His vision was blurred, and his mouth tasted of dirt. He tried to raise a hand to rub his eyes, but the moment his right hand lifted half an inch off the ground, a tearing pain shot through his shoulder blade, as if someone were slowly drawing a red-hot iron rod out from his bone. His fingertips brushed against the rough ground. It didn't feel like asphalt, nor the laminate floor in his rented apartment. It felt more like packed earth mixed with gravel.
At last, his vision came into focus.
A half-collapsed ceremonial arch stood before him, its plaque hanging crookedly. Three faded characters were written on it. Squinting, he could just make them out: Martial Arts Training Ground. Beyond the arch was a wide expanse of packed earth, surrounded by twelve stone pillars. Their pitted surfaces looked as though they had been repeatedly chiseled with a blunt instrument. The sky was gray and hazy, with no sun or visible clouds. An indescribable light filled the entire space, uniform and lifeless, with nowhere to escape.
