Ring 8 – Azure Sky Outer Sect Recruitment Plaza
Day 91 of the new calendar – "Year One After the Ghost"
The plaza is packed.
Twenty thousand hopefuls from every gutter and back-alley in the lower rings have gathered under a sky that still shows the faint silver scar from the Red Lotus explosion three months ago. Holo-banners loop the same message in ten languages:
AZURE SKY PAVILION – 4025 OUTER DISCIPLE RECRUITMENT
ONLY THE HEAVENS CHOOSE THE WORTHY
The testing obelisk (a thirty-metre shard of black star-iron left by the founder) stands at the centre, rings of light waiting to bloom.
Security is insane.
Ten thousand sect enforcers in azure armour.
Floating rail-pagodas overhead.
Three Nascent Soul elders on duty, auras locked down but ready.
Every face in the crowd is nervous.
Because the Silver Ghost has never been found.
Because the bounty is now one trillion credits and climbing.
Because every kid here grew up hearing the legend of the boy who made ninety-eight losses into a massacre and then vanished into the void.
They are about to meet him.
At exactly 09:00 the crowd parts like water before a shark.
Three figures walk through the main gate as casually as if they own the planet.
Liàn Xing leads.
Coat open, silver circuits glowing softly under pale skin. The nine-chi black spear shaft is carried across his back like it weighs nothing. His eyes are calm, almost bored.
Lan Shuyin walks at his right, white combat hanfu edged in frost-blue spear motifs, twin short-spears crossed behind her back. Her hair is loose for the first time in public, black silk moving like living frost.
Zhao Shentian is at his left, golden hair tied high, nine golden rings orbiting lazily above his head. His grin is the same one that once made elders flinch.
Zhenxing sits on Liàn Xing's shoulder in loli form, kicking her feet, eating a holographic candied hawthorn.
The entire plaza falls silent.
Twenty thousand hopefuls.
Ten thousand enforcers.
Three Nascent Soul elders.
All breathing stops.
A single outer disciple drops to his knees, whispering, "It's him…"
Then another.
Then a hundred.
Then the entire crowd.
Twenty thousand foreheads hit the ground in perfect, terrified unison.
The legend has returned.
And he looks bored.
Liàn Xing walks straight to the registration desk.
The elder behind it (Core Formation peak, face usually carved from stone) is shaking so hard his beard trembles.
Liàn Xing places three plain jade tokens on the counter.
"Liàn Xing. Lan Shuyin. Zhao Shentian. Registering for the outer disciple test."
His voice is quiet.
It carries to every corner of the plaza.
The elder's hand hovers over the tokens, afraid to touch.
One of the Nascent Soul elders floating overhead finally finds his voice.
"You… you are the Celestial Seed Anomaly. Void-Nine threat. One trillion credit bounty."
Liàn Xing looks up.
Smiles.
It is small, tired, and unbreakable.
"Today I'm just a hopeful."
He taps the tokens.
"Register us. Or get out of the way."
Silence.
Then the elder behind the desk bows so low his forehead cracks the counter.
"W-welcome… honoured applicants."
The registration completes in thirty seconds.
No one dares stop them.
They walk toward the obelisk.
The crowd parts like they are royalty.
A little girl (no older than ten, gutter clothes, silver spear painted on her cheek with cheap dye) runs forward and tugs Liàn Xing's coat.
He stops.
Looks down.
She holds out a crumpled wanted poster with his old face on it.
On the bottom, in childish scrawl:
You finally won.
Liàn Xing kneels.
Takes the poster.
Signs it with a single silver character that glows like starlight.
He hands it back.
The girl's eyes fill with tears.
He ruffles her hair and keeps walking.
At the obelisk, the three Nascent Soul elders land in perfect formation, blocking the way.
The lead elder (an old woman with cloud-white hair) speaks, voice trembling but proud.
"By sect law, Void-Nine threats are to be detained on sight."
Liàn Xing stops three paces away.
Lan Shuyin and Zhao fan out to either side.
The spear shaft hums once (eager).
Liàn Xing's voice is soft.
"Move."
The elders hesitate.
Behind them, ten thousand enforcers raise weapons… then lower them.
Because twenty thousand hopefuls are now standing behind the trio.
Gutter kids.
Orphans.
The forgotten.
All of them wearing hand-painted silver spears somewhere on their clothes.
The old woman looks at the sea of children who believe in the boy who finally won.
She steps aside.
The other two elders follow.
The path to the obelisk is clear.
Liàn Xing walks forward.
Places one hand on the star-iron shard.
Nothing happens for three heartbeats.
Then the obelisk screams.
Cracks spiderweb across its surface.
A beam of pure silver starlight punches into the sky, visible from every ring in the Nine Heavens.
The registration jade screen explodes.
Words burn themselves into the air in living starfire:
LIÀN XING – UNKNOWN APTITUDE
CELESTIAL SEED CONFIRMED
DIRECT INNER-DISCIPLE PROMOTION GRANTED
Lan Shuyin and Zhao step up next.
Lan Shuyin touches.
The obelisk flashes frost-blue.
LAN SHUYIN – SUPREME YIN-FROST BODY
DIRECT INNER-DISCIPLE PROMOTION
Zhao touches last.
Golden swords erupt from the obelisk, carving nine perfect rings in the sky.
ZHAO SHENTIAN – PERFECT SWORD DAO BODY
DIRECT INNER-DISCIPLE PROMOTION
The plaza is silent.
Then the gutter kids start cheering.
The sound spreads.
Within minutes every dark feed in the Nine Heavens is exploding.
The Silver Ghost has returned.
And he just walked into Azure Sky Pavilion through the front door.
With his ice princess and golden sword at his side.
The legend is no longer running.
He is home.
And the sects have ninety days to decide whether to bow… or bleed.