Looking at Ji Yan walking away with that smug grin plastered on his face, Lin Chen forced himself to cool his mind, reminding himself not to get angry.
"I'm a grown man," he muttered under his breath. "Not some hot-blooded kid."
Even so, his knuckles itched. Honestly, every part of him itched—to punch that dog-faced brat straight into the ground until his teeth were counting stars.
"He isn't human," Lin Chen whispered to himself, hypnotizing his own temper. "He's just… a barking dog. And you don't get angry at a barking dog."
He nodded to himself like he had just achieved enlightenment. "Yep. Ji Yan is a dog. Woof woof. Problem solved."
But even with that mental trick, he could feel the fire boiling inside.
After all, this was the cultivation world. Here, arrogance wasn't a flaw—it was practically a cultivation requirement.
People like Ji Yan, small-time bullies who strutted around like peacocks just because they'd taken two steps ahead of others, were as common as weeds after the rain.
It almost felt like a law of nature, something carved into the Dao itself.
The arrogant young master appears. Protagonist slaps face. Young master's cousin appears. Slap again. Then his cousin's father, the elder of some sect, shows up. Another slap.
Lin Chen rubbed his chin. "Honestly, it's like a recycling system. Infinite arrogance farming."
He could almost picture it: some cosmic scriptwriter somewhere rubbing his hands together, tossing "Arrogant Young Master No. 38" onto the stage every time life gets too quiet.
The worst part? These clowns always had the same template—bad temper, zero brain cells, and the uncanny ability to underestimate the one person they shouldn't.
Lin Chen sighed. "Cultivation world logic… where brainpower drops by half the moment your cultivation rises by one realm."
If he were back on Earth, someone like Ji Yan would be working a 9-to-5 job, whining about his boss, and drinking cheap beer on weekends. But here? Here he was a "young master," barking like an overdressed Chihuahua with a sword.
"Yeah," Lin Chen thought with a dry chuckle, "definitely a dog."
***
The exam site was already buzzing when Lin Chen arrived.
In the center, a grand platform stood tall, banners snapping in the wind, each embroidered with the sect's sword emblem.
And then there was the examiner.
An old man in deep blue robes, silver-thread patterns glimmering faintly under the sun. His long beard swayed like it had its own cultivation method.
His sharp eyes swept across the crowd, filled with the kind of disappointment usually reserved for untalented students and overcooked porridge.
The silence broke when he sighed, long and heavy, before muttering, "Another year, another crop of weeds."
A few hopefuls exchanged nervous glances. Weeds? Did he mean them?
The old man didn't give them time to dwell. With a flick of his sleeve, he spoke, his voice ringing clear, laced with authority.
"Listen well. Over twenty? Leave. Still can't awaken your root vein? Leave. If you think fate will carry you here without strength… you are wasting my time."
His tone wasn't harsh—it was worse. It was bored. The kind of boredom that made a person feel smaller than dust.
Then, without warning, he moved.
It wasn't even a strike. Just a casual wave of his sleeve.
Boom—!
The courtyard erupted under pressure. A golden light shimmered faintly behind the elder, and an invisible force slammed into the crowd like a storm breaking over a harbor.
The effect was instant!
Those who hadn't even touched Essence Qi? Gone. They were blasted backwards, flying like dumplings spat out by a dragon, rolling across the stone with pitiful cries. Some tried to resist, only to flop to the ground clutching their chests.
Even the few who managed to scratch into the first stage staggered like drunkards, their legs trembling under the weight of the aura.
Lin Chen felt it too, like a mountain had suddenly perched itself on his shoulders. His knees almost buckled, but he gritted his teeth and locked them in place.
Beside him, someone coughed blood dramatically.
"Wow… people really cough up blood like that? But why so much?" Lin Chen thought, raising an eyebrow. He had to admit, the scene was both terrifying and… oddly ridiculous.
The examiner snorted, a sharp, humorless sound that cut through the courtyard like a sword.
"Good," he muttered. "Less trash to sort through."
His gaze swept past the remaining candidates. "Those still standing, line up. You'll be tested one by one."
Lin Chen straightened his back and quietly joined the line, careful not to draw attention to himself.
The old man reclined on a simple wooden chair at the front of the courtyard, eyes half-closed, one hand resting lightly on a crystal orb that pulsed with faint spiritual light. It seemed almost lazy, like he didn't expect much from anyone here.
One by one, the remaining candidates stepped forward, placing their hands on the orb. A soft hum vibrated as the examiner scanned their cultivation levels with a single, sharp glance.
No words were exchanged. Only the occasional grunt, sigh, or subtle nod signaled approval—or barely concealed irritation.
First stage… second stage… third stage…
Most were young, bright-eyed cultivators, eager and fidgeting. A few sect-born students moved with practiced grace, their foundation clearly superior. And then—it was Lin Chen's turn.
He stepped forward with calm, even as his chest throbbed with nervous energy
The old man barely spared him a glance until Lin Chen's hand touched the orb.
A soft hum of light flickered—First Stage of Root Vein Awakening.
The old man's brows knitted tightly, annoyance evident. "…Tch, just barely," he muttered under his breath, lips curling in irritation. "Another one scraping the bottom of the pot."
He squinted at the record tablet in front of him. As he read it, his expression shifted subtly—from irritation to reluctant acknowledgment.
"Eight years… handyman…" he murmured. "You barely qualify."
A pause hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken condescension.
"If you were some wandering outsider or a peasant off the street," he said bluntly, "I wouldn't even let you through. But after eight years of menial labor… the sect at least honors that kind of stubborn loyalty."
He waved his sleeve dismissively.
"Go. Don't embarrass the sect."
As Lin Chen stepped off the examination platform, a calm-looking outer disciple stood waiting at a small stone table, several jade tokens neatly arranged beside him. The young man gave Lin Chen a quick once-over, then raised an eyebrow slightly.
"You, new disciple?" he asked in a flat voice, already reaching for one of the blank tokens.
"Yes," Lin Chen replied.
"Name?"
"Lin Chen."
The outer disciple nodded, then picked up a small carving tool made of silver spirit steel. Holding the jade token in one hand, he began engraving swiftly, spiritual energy flowing through the tool's tip as it etched clean, glowing lines into the jade.
As the characters formed—Starfall Sword Sect Outer Disciple: Lin Chen—a faint aura shimmered over the token, binding it with the sect's recognition formation.
"Done." He handed it over. "This is your identification token. Don't lose it. It'll track your contribution points and grant access to certain areas based on your rank."
Lin Chen bowed and accepted it respectfully.
"Your assigned residence is engraved on the back," the disciple added. "Thirteenth Hall, Room Seven. That's in the north courtyard. Not too far from the practice field."
Then he handed over a small cloth bag. "Starter kit. Two outer disciple robes, one month's ration of spirit rice, 10 low-grade spirit stones—don't expect anything fancy."
Lin Chen nodded. "Thank you, senior."
The outer disciple waved lazily. "Go on. Next!"
*****
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