Chapter 125: Because, a Feeling

On a certain day in a certain year, the Xuanji Sect, an obscure sect in the southern part of Yongle County, began its recruitment trials. Since most of those who signed up were mere mortals, the tests were designed to be within the capabilities of ordinary people.

Starting halfway up the mountain, stone steps stretched out like clouds. Su Fan glanced at his worn-out shoes and gave a bitter smile. He recalled how unaccustomed he had become to this mortal life over the past few days, even though, long ago, before he had ever begun his cultivation, he had been nothing but a mortal himself.

Brushing aside all thoughts, he continued to move forward with the crowd. Perhaps because they were all worldly-wise, no one paid much mind to Su Fan’s shock of gray hair. There were no guiding disciples, nor any iconic landmarks; everything was merely hearsay—the existence of the cultivation sect, and even the recruitment itself.

A day into the ascent, some began to complain, doubting the reality of the sect. Su Fan remained indifferent, resting when he was tired, then continuing his journey. Meanwhile, many others, unwilling to proceed, turned back after resting, their initial enthusiasm for immortality vanishing without a trace.

The further they climbed, the sparser the mountain forests became. At times, one could walk a hundred steps without finding a single patch of shade. Since stepping onto the path, the temperature had become erratic. At night, it was fine—though the mountain road was colder than the depths of winter on the plains, they could endure by huddling together around fires. But during the day, the scorching sun hung high, and the heat was unbearable. It was no exaggeration to say that sweat poured off them like rain; Su Fan’s clothes were so soaked they could be wrung out.

Under such heat, many more stopped, lost and uncertain. The temptation of the immortal sect was great—the benefits of being accepted were immense—but whether it was real, whether they would be chosen, and whether this cruel weather was worth the effort remained unknown.

Su Fan continued to walk, ignoring his toes poking through his shoes, ignoring the sun that felt as if it would melt him, and ignoring the once-crowded path, which now held only a few scattered souls.

"Look, is that the Immortal’s Abode?"

The exclamation drew the gazes of everyone ahead and behind. Exhausted people anxiously lifted their heads to look forward. In the mist-shrouded distance, rows of towers and pavilions were vaguely visible. Looking closer, a gate towering into the clouds stood proudly. Before he knew it, those who had been behind him had already surged past.

Those who had claimed they could go no further and should just go home suddenly had a renewed glint in their eyes. A young man, foam at the corner of his mouth, wiped it away and scrambled to catch up with his companions, fearing that if he were a step too late, the Immortals would forget him—though, in truth, they had yet to see a single Immortal.

Su Fan continued at his own pace, neither accelerating nor slowing. There was still plenty of time, and the pavilions ahead were not necessarily a true cultivation sect. Even if they were, so what?

As a Purple-ranked disciple from the Tianyuan Sect, the largest sect in Tianyuan County, he held no reverence for this remote, minor sect. He merely wanted to improve his cultivation and leave to seek his revenge. It was that simple.

With no one left behind him, Su Fan maintained his steady pace. Whether intentional or not, he glanced at the scenery in the mist. If those jade towers were compared to the Purple Division, they might hold their own, but against the other six divisions of the Tianyuan Sect, they were incomparable.

"No, that seems to be an illusion," Su Fan whispered. "It’s a false image. Could this be the start of the test? If this is truly an illusionary mirror, then this Xuanji Sect is full of mysteries indeed."

...

Beyond the mist and illusion lay towering, craggy mountains. In a secluded spot amidst these peaks sat a high pavilion, and behind that, a clear, tranquil lake. In the center of the lake stood a gazebo.

The gazebo was called the Lake-Heart Pavilion. It was built in the middle of the lake, with no path connecting it to the shore; one had to fly to reach it. Outside, fish swam about, as if something within the pavilion attracted them, making them eager to leap inside.

Two people sat within. Both were dressed in black—an absolute, abyssal black, like the color of the night.

The younger one looked into the distance, seemingly able to see the mortals on the mountain road, forever unable to touch the pavilions that appeared so close. He sneered, "A bunch of idiots. They can't even pass this, and some even left before seeing the first trial. What a pack of trash. At this rate, how will Yongle County deal with the Thirty-Six County Drill in ten years?"

The black-clad old woman beside the young man showed a flicker of displeasure. She snorted, "There is no lack of talent among the younger generation of Yongle County. Our Xuanji Sect is merely a small, affiliated sect of the Yongle Sect. Those true geniuses would never come here, so the state of the Xuanji Sect matters little to the county at large."

"But you—do not think that because the Sect Master praises you as a talent of our younger generation, you can walk through Yongle County as you please. With your mere Nascent Soul initial stage cultivation, you are nothing."

The young man naturally shed his arrogance, bowing his head respectfully. "Master is right. This disciple was wrong."

The old woman sighed helplessly. "You are clever and know how to adapt. I am not worried about you facing seniors whose cultivation far exceeds your own. I worry that you will face those whose cultivation appears lower than yours and become overconfident. He may look like a junior, but he might just be the one to send you to your death."

The young man nodded somberly, staring into the distance. Suddenly, his eyes paused. He murmured, "That person..."

Seeing the doubt in his eyes, the old woman looked as well. A moment later, she whispered, "That young man with the gray hair... he is good."

The young man replied, "Perhaps it is just a coincidence? He might not know any of this."

The old woman said calmly, "It is precisely because he does not know that he is good."

The young man asked curiously, "Why?"

The old woman smiled. "Because of a feeling."

The young man nodded slowly and murmured, "If he is a talent, then I hope to join him in the Thirty-Six County Drill."

The old woman’s face, previously warm, turned cold again. She sneered, "He hasn't even entered the mist; it is still unknown. Besides, that so-called 'drill' is clearly just a method devised by the Empire to weaken the power of the various counties. Once it begins, the best seeds of the younger generation will surely be lost."

The young man hurriedly said, "I heard the rewards are great, and there is even a chance to enter the Empire to cultivate."

The old woman snapped, "You are usually so clever; why are you so foolish now? What rewards? What entry into the Empire? They take our carefully nurtured talents and give them to the Empire, and in doing so, the strength of the counties is diminished."

The young man did not take offense at being called foolish, for in the presence of this recognized genius, he knew his place.

The old woman continued, "Though, there is one benefit: those who enter the Empire can protect their home county until the day they die."

The young man, half-listening, suddenly said in surprise, "He has entered the mist, yet he remains calm. Could it be he sees through it? But he is just a mortal."