But nothing came up in the Outer Court section. Frowning, he checked again — still nothing.
Just as he was about to give up, his eyes caught a lone slip awkwardly wedged near the side of a separate shelf — far from where it should've been.
It bore no formal plaque. Only a faint, handwritten name etched along the side — Lao Xie.
"…Huh? that's odd," he muttered.
He pulled it out carefully — only to realize it had been resting right beside one of the restricted records. A thick, sealed book titled — Records of the Silver Crescent Mountain Peak Sect Leaders – Internal Archive
His brow furrowed deeper.
"What is this doing all the way over here…"
He activated the jade slip.
The script that floated into the air was brief — and strangely outdated.
Name: Lao Xie
Origin: Mortal Village – brought in personally by the Sect Leader
Status: Talentless – Confirmed Mortal
Evaluation: Failed cultivation test — no spiritual root detected
Assignment: Outer Court
Last Update: Unknown
Elder Mu stared at it in silence.
"…That mortal kid?, but what is this unknown?" he muttered, his mind drifting back to the child the Sect Leader once brought in.
"That boy just stood on the tournament platform yesterday… and defeated one of the Outer Court's rising talents without so much as revealing his qi."
His gaze drifted toward the sealed book again.
"…This kid," he muttered under his breath, "what are you hiding?"
On the other side, that same night — Flowing Note Peak .
Ling Ruxin stood at the entrance to her residence, the soft chime of wind bells echoing faintly above the doorway. Her dorm was nestled near the back of Flowing Note Peak, where the trees were quiet and the air carried a subtle tone of music that lingered like an afterthought.
Inside, everything was tidy and serene. Elegant silk curtains danced with the breeze, and an incense burner released a faint floral scent across the room while a guqin rested on a polished stand.
She poured herself a cup of warm tea and moved to sit by the open window.
Her thoughts hadn't left the garden.
Or rather… they hadn't left Lao Xie.
"How could someone like him remain unnoticed all this time…?"
She didn't have the answer — and clearly, neither did Elder Yao.
But it left a feeling in her chest that was hard to name.
Curiosity… or perhaps concern, not too mention — uncomfortably feeling close to… intrigue.
The next morning.
Another day had passed in an instant again, the Martial Hall came alive once more.
Yesterday's matches had stirred the outer court in a different way. With Lao Xie absent from the arena, attention shifted to the more expected names — the ones everyone had their eyes on from the beginning.
Shen Yun, calm and precise, had dispatched his opponent with a cold elegance. He didn't speak a single word throughout the fight, his swordplay speaking for him. A peak Body Tempering cultivator — 9th stage — and clearly aiming for the top ten.
Mei Yan, the pride of Flowing Note Peak, took to the stage in the afternoon. Her match ended just as quickly — with a graceful sweep of her zither staff, her opponent was sent flying, unconscious before even touching the ground. She embodied beauty, elegance, and overwhelming strength all at once.
A few other rising names made it through as well. A fast-footed spearman with raw instincts, a quiet twin-blade user with precise tempo, and a talisman specialist who outsmarted his opponent through layered traps. Their matches kept the crowd entertained.
But still, beneath all that, another name lingered on everyone's tongue —Lao Xie.
The boy who had humiliated Feng Zhan without lifting his voice — without even showing his cultivation base.
And now, his next match was about to begin.
Outer Court, Lao Xie's Hut.
A faint breeze pushed against the thin trees outside, scattering a few dry leaves across the path.
Inside the hut, Lao Xie fastened the sash around his waist and gave his sword a final glance. He didn't carry it on his back — he never had. But it was there all the same, stored where others couldn't see.
He rolled his shoulders once, then stepped out into the morning light.
The name Meng Lu appeared next to his on the updated bracket. Lao Xie barely gave it a second glance.
He hadn't even needed to leave his hut to see it.
Night before, while meditating, the system had revealed a feature — it displays the full tournament bracket. Each round, every name, and the upcoming match order had been laid out in perfect clarity.
Apparently, the system had decided to make things more convenient. He wasn't going to complain.
"About time," he had muttered when it first appeared.
Now, thanks to that panel, he already knew exactly who he was fighting and when — a luxury most outer disciples didn't have.
Meng Lu. Sixth stage Body Tempering. No notable techniques. No public achievements. Just another filler name on the list.
"Mediocre," Lao Xie muttered under his breath as he made his way to the Martial Hall.
Time passed. By the time he arrived at the Martial Hall, the place was already packed with spectators.
Rows upon rows of disciples filled the stone seating around the elevated platform. Most were outer disciples, but there were a few inner court elites scattered among the crowd — drawn by rumors more than official interest.
Lao Xie stepped in quietly through the side entrance, his presence drawing subtle glances from those near the front. A low murmur stirred again as his figure came into view.
"This many people…" he thought, only mildly surprised.
He knew better than most — strength draws eyes. No matter how quiet one was, power had a way of pulling attention like gravity.
As he moved along the lower edge of the seating rows, he scanned the crowd — a slow, uninterested glance, more out of habit than curiosity.
His gaze landed on a particular figure sitting near the middle row — Ling Ruxin.
She was alone, dressed in her usual flowing robes of Flowing Note Peak, a few empty seats to either side of her. Elder Yao wasn't with her.
"She came again," Lao Xie thought, eyes narrowing just slightly. "Curious girl." he said inwardly.
He didn't linger.
Just as he reached the edge of the arena floor, a voice called out from the officiating table above.
"Lao Xie!" Elder Mu's voice rang clearly through the Martial Hall, amplified by a minor array.
"Report to the platform."
His opponent, Meng Lu, was already there — standing at the center of the vast stone stage, hands clenched tightly by his side. His jaw was tense, his feet planted wide in a practiced but rigid stance.
Lao Xie gave no reply. He simply adjusted his cuffs, stepped onto the steps, and began walking toward the platform.
His steps were steady and calm.
The atmosphere shifted — even those who had been whispering fell into silence as they watched him get onto the stage once more.
"Look, It's him again.." One spectator said.
"Do you think he'll dominate the fight again like he did with Feng Zhan?" another asked.
"Are you dumb? Meng Lu's weaker than Feng Zhan. How's he supposed to beat Lao Xie?" someone sneered.
"What do you know? Maybe he was pulling some tricks that day — just to show off!"
All sorts of talk stirred in the stands. The spectators' seats were filled with baseless rumors and divided opinions. Some accused Lao Xie of using tricks, while others firmly defended him.
"I hope Lao Xie really win, I betted with my life savings for him to win." One said.
"You too? After watching that last fight, I'm convinced. His strength is real — I don't know how he cultivated, but that doesn't even matter!" another chimed in.
As always, even moments like this could become opportunities for profit. Gambling, speculation — the crowd thrived on it.
And seated quietly among them, Ling Ruxin kept her focus on the stage. Her gaze didn't waver, her fingers resting gently against her sleeve as she watched him calmly stand beneath the morning light.
"What are you going to do this time, Senior Brother…" she murmured to herself.