The cold wind rustled gently through the night, and the air carried the soft scent of the early spring breeze.
A few days earlier, the Profound Dao Sect had conducted a disciple selection test.
After the successful candidates were chosen, they were granted a few days to tie up loose ends, bid farewell to their families, and prepare for the long journey to the sect where they would spend the foreseeable future.
Lin Fan was not among those selected. His cultivation aptitude had fallen short. However, someone very dear to him had passed the test.
Inside a small stone-thatched hut, Lin Fan slowly placed a black mask over his face. The mask clung tightly to his skin, casting a dark shadow over his features.
He picked up a steel sword lying beside a simple wooden bench, its blade cold and heavy in his hands, and then stepped outside into the quiet street.
"I didn't want to do this," he murmured. "But Profound Dao Sect, you've left me with no choice. Taking Bai Roxue, the woman I love, is the worst mistake you have ever made."
With each word, Lin Fan's voice grew heavier with emotion. He broke into a run, his feet pounding against the stone pavement.
He dashed past night dwellers who were lost in their cups, their drunken laughter echoing faintly in the distance. The sharp tang of alcohol drifted through the air, but Lin Fan ignored it. Nothing could distract him now.
Soon, he turned a corner and spotted a group of twelve figures moving ahead of him under the dim moonlight. His eyes narrowed, and his grip on the sword tightened.
At the center of the group was a woman with flowing blue hair that shimmered beneath the stars. Her eyes held a mature calmness, yet there was a trace of unease hidden deep within their depths. She radiated a chilling, dignified aura, though her expression remained composed.
Just then, a voice pierced the silence.
"Bai Roxue! You don't have to surrender yourself to the Profound Dao Sect. The two of us can still walk the path of immortality together!"
Lin Fan's voice echoed across the quiet street. It was hoarse, masked deliberately to avoid recognition. But he had forgotten one important fact. She had known him since childhood. No amount of disguise could fool her.
Bai Roxue had once been his closest companion. In those earlier days, they had been inseparable. However, while Lin Fan's talent was ordinary, hers was exceptional.
Her potential was unrivaled, the highest among the entire batch of new disciples. The difference between them was as vast as heaven and earth.
When the Profound Dao Sect offered her a place, she made her decision. She chose the path of cultivation and immortality, stepping into a world Lin Fan could not follow.
He believed she had been forced into the choice, convinced the sect had pressured her. A woman with such heavenly talent would not be allowed to simply walk away.
Hearing Lin Fan's cry, the two inner sect disciples leading the group came to an abrupt halt. They turned and stared at the black-clothed figure, surprise flickering across their faces.
"Someone dares to obstruct the Profound Dao Sect?" one of them sneered, his voice filled with disdain.
The elder leading the group furrowed his brows and turned to Bai Roxue. Her face was calm, but her fingers were curled tightly around her sleeves.
"Disciple Bai," the elder said coldly, "do you know this brat?"
A ripple of emotion crossed her face. For a moment, her expression wavered, and her lips trembled slightly. After a pause, she took a slow breath and replied, "No, Elder."
Lin Fan's eyes widened in disbelief. The sword in his hand fell slightly, his fingers trembling. Her denial struck him like a hammer to the chest.
He stood frozen in place, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
The elder gave a slight shrug and turned to the inner sect disciple beside him. "Deal with him. We have no time to waste," he said casually, clasping his hands behind his back with indifference.
With a blur of movement, the inner sect disciple leapt forward. His cultivation was at the Golden Core Realm, and he didn't hold back.
His fist connected with Lin Fan's chest before the latter could react, sending him hurtling through the air. He crashed into a row of tables outside a nearby tavern. Wood splintered, and the sound echoed loudly into the night.
Groaning, Lin Fan struggled to his feet, blood trickling down his forehead. His clothes were torn, and his body trembled from the impact. His eyes burned with anger and humiliation. He glared at the approaching disciple, clenching his jaw tightly.
The disciple laughed, stepping forward. "What now? Want revenge? Then come and get it!"
In a blink, he vanished and reappeared in front of Lin Fan, delivering another brutal strike. Lin Fan raised his sword, but it shattered on impact.
He was launched backward again, slamming into a wall. Dust rose from the debris that rained down around him.
"You ignorant fool," the disciple spat. "This is the gap between a mortal and a cultivator. You think you can bridge it with determination alone? We are cultivators. We are gods!"
Lin Fan's vision blurred. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, and pain racked his entire body. Yet, even in that state, he slowly lifted his head to look at Bai Roxue.
She stood frozen, her fists clenched, biting her lip until it nearly bled. Her eyes were filled with sorrow, yet she remained silent.
Lin Fan coughed violently, blood splashing onto the ground. The taste of iron filled his mouth. His strength was fading. The disciple advanced toward him with slow, confident steps.
As he lay there, thoughts swirled in Lin Fan's mind. Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps the immortal path was not meant for everyone. Perhaps this was the end of his road.
His mind drifted to the image of a calm, composed figure in white robes, sitting alone in the cold palace.
"I have disappointed him, haven't I?" he whispered to himself, a faint smile of regret curving his lips. The thought dug deep into his heart. "I was wrong from the start."
"Young master… please forgive me…" he muttered weakly.
He dropped to the ground, battered and broken, awaiting the final blow.
Just as the disciple lunged forward to end his life, a blinding flash of sword light lit up the night sky. It shimmered like a falling star. Everyone paused, momentarily dazed.
The next moment, the disciple's head landed softly on the ground with a muted thud.
A figure in flowing white robes stepped forward through the night mist. His face was hidden behind a bull-shaped mask, but the air around him pulsed with power. His presence sent chills down every spine.
He raised his head slightly. Cold, unreadable eyes stared out from behind the mask.
"You do not need to be so heavy-handed with a mortal," he said quietly, but his voice carried power that made the heart tremble.