The silence on the Great Plaza was deafening as Elder Su unrolled a golden parchment. Thirty-five pairs of eyes, bloodshot and weary, tracked his every move. The tension was thick enough to choke the very Qi from the air.
"The scores have been calculated," Elder Su's voice rang out, devoid of warmth. "The ranking is as follows."
"First Place: Mu Rongbing. 1,500 points."
The pink-haired girl didn't even blink. She stood with her arms crossed, her sword sheathed, looking as if the result were as natural as the sunrise.
"Second Place: Qin Yu. 1,353 points."
A young man who looked more like a court scholar than a warrior adjusted his glasses and offered a refined, shallow bow.
Elder Su continued reading the list. With every name called, the numbers dropped, and the remaining youths grew more frantic. Sweat pooled on Hanyuan's forehead, stinging his eyes. He had gathered many herbs, but his encounter with the snake and the retreat from the river monster had cost him precious hunting time. If it weren't for that Tier 2 Spirit Fruit, he wouldn't even have a hope.
"Tenth place... Twelfth..."
Hanyuan's heart thundered against his cracked ribs. Please. Not a Work Disciple.
"Fourteenth Place: Bai Hanyuan. 620 points."
The breath exploded from Hanyuan's lungs in a violent rush of relief. His legs almost gave out as his fists trembled with a mixture of exhaustion and pure, unadulterated excitement. He had made it. By the skin of his teeth, he was an Outer Disciple.
"Tsk. Look at the country bumpkin," a sharp, melodic voice sneered.
Mu Rongbing was looking at him over her shoulder, her blue eyes filled with icy disdain. "Getting excited over the second-to-last rank. Do not think that because you squeezed through the gate, you belong on the same mountain as me."
Hanyuan didn't retort. He didn't have the energy. He simply closed his eyes and inhaled the mountain air, savoring the victory.
The final name was read, and the twenty who failed stood in a daze of misery. "The path of cultivation is brutal," Elder Su said, looking at the losers. "Ten of you have chosen to return to your clans. The remaining ten... follow the path of the Work Disciple. You may still rise, but the climb will be tenfold harder."
The group was divided. To the left went the ten dejected Work Disciples; to the right, the fifteen newly minted Outer Disciples.
"Listen well," Elder Su continued, walking toward a bridge of shimmering light that arched over a literal sea of clouds. "As Outer Disciples, the Sect provides for you. You will receive fifteen Low-Grade Spirit Stones every month. Work Disciples receive only three, though they may earn more through manual labor."
Hanyuan's mind nearly reeled. Fifteen stones? A month?
Back in Spirit Springs City, the entire Bai Clan—with its hundreds of members, businesses, and guards—brought in a total monthly profit of barely one hundred spirit stones. Now, he alone would receive fifteen for his personal cultivation. It was more wealth than most branch elders back home saw in a year. The scale of the Mystic Sky Sect was truly beyond his imagination.
"Follow me," Elder Su commanded.
They stepped onto the light-bridge. Hanyuan's stomach dropped as he looked through the translucent floor. Thousands of meters below, the clouds swirled like a turbulent white ocean. Massive spirit birds, far larger than the eagle he had seen, soared through the mist.
They finally reached the island where the new disciples were to stay. It was a massive landmass suspended in the sky by ancient, pulsing formations. As they walked through the gate, Hanyuan was awestruck. The island was at least five times the size of Spirit Springs City, featuring winding mountain paths, sprawling pagodas, and artificial waterfalls that glowed with spiritual essence.
The air here was so rich in Qi that every breath felt like a drink of cool, revitalizing wine.
"Welcome to the Cloud-Jade Isle," Elder Su said, pausing before a row of stone courtyards. "These are your living quarters. You have one day to rest. Tomorrow, you will go to the Scripture Pavilion to choose your primary cultivation method and techniques. From this moment on, you are no longer children of your clans. You are the Disciples of the Mystic Sky Sect."
Hanyuan looked at the modest stone hut assigned to him. It had a small yard and a meditation room. He walked inside and leaned his blackened steel spear against the wall.
Hanyuan crossed the threshold of his new courtyard and immediately felt the difference. The air didn't just carry Qi; it felt as though the spirit energy was a physical weight, cool and nourishing. He sat cross-legged on the stone dais in the center of the room and began to circulate his Qi.
His eyes snapped open after the first cycle. This... it's effortless!
In Spirit Springs City, he had to fight to pull every wisp of Qi from the thin atmosphere. Here, it flooded his meridians like a surging tide. His cultivation speed had increased at least tenfold. A bitter realization settled in his gut: No wonder Xueling and Yanfeng reached the 6th and 5th layers so quickly. They weren't just talented. He closed his eyes and sank into a deep, focused trance, refining the abundant Qi until the morning light filtered through his window.
When Hanyuan stepped outside the next morning, he felt lighter, his 5th-layer foundation fully stabilized. The plaza was already buzzing with the other fourteen Outer Disciples. The exhaustion of the trials had been replaced by a frenetic, desperate hunger for power.
"I'm going for a Heaven-rank offensive manual!" one youth boasted, his face flushed. "Once I have a real technique, I'll be unmatched in the arena!"
"Rank doesn't matter as much as compatibility," another countered, though his eyes betrayed his own greed.
Amidst the noise, a calm figure approached Hanyuan. It was Qin Yu, the scholar who had taken second place. Despite being thirteen and at the 7th Layer of Qi Refining, he lacked the jagged, aggressive edge of the other youths.
"You must be Bai Hanyuan," Qin Yu said with a gentle, scholarly smile. "I saw you in the plaza. Your willpower is... intimidating, to say the least."
"And you're Qin Yu," Hanyuan replied, nodding respectfully. "Your ranking speaks for itself."
As they waited for the trial to begin, they spoke quietly. Hanyuan learned that Qin Yu was the fourth son of the prestigious Qin Clan—a family so large that its influence reached across multiple kingdoms. "My brothers are all at the peak of the 9th layer or higher," Qin Yu admitted with a sigh. "The Fourth Son is often the forgotten son. That is why I came to the Mystic Sky Sect. Here, only the strength you forge yourself matters."
The conversation died as the air suddenly cooled. Elder Su descended from the clouds, landing with a soft thud that silenced the plaza.
"The time has come," the Elder announced, his blue hair fluttering. "You will now enter the Scripture Pavilion. You are entitled to choose exactly one manual. This will be the foundation of your journey. If you wish for more, you must earn them through merit points by completing Sect Missions. Follow me."
He led them up a winding mountain path toward a massive, seven-story pagoda. It was carved from ancient gold-veined marble, and its roof tiles glowed with a divine luminescence.
Sitting on a simple wooden chair at the entrance was an old man. He had long, silver-gray hair that cascaded over a tattered gray robe. To the youths, he looked like a common mortal, completely devoid of Qi fluctuations.
The old man cleared his throat, a dry, raspy sound that nonetheless carried to every ear. "You have thirty minutes. You may only explore the first floor. If you try to ascend to the second, the formations will shred your soul. Choose wisely, for the technique chooses the man as much as the man chooses the technique."
He waved a gnarled hand, and the massive gilded doors groaned open.
The youths erupted. Most scrambled inside with frantic speed, fearing the clock more than the choice. Hanyuan stayed side-by-side with Qin Yu, taking a steadying breath before stepping into the hallowed silence of the pavilion.
Inside, thousands of jade slips, scrolls, and weathered books floated on shelves carved into the walls, each protected by a faint, shimmering bubble of Qi.
Thirty minutes, Hanyuan thought, his heart pounding.