Three hours later, the manager of the Dragon Inn, Xu Heng, appeared once more, carrying a fresh list of information.
He handed it respectfully to Zhao Yan, who flicked a gold coin his way and dismissed him with a casual wave.
Xu Heng's face lit up at the sight of the coin, and with a smile he slipped out, shutting the door softly behind him.
Left alone, Zhao Yan settled at the table. The lamplight flickered over his face as he unfolded the parchment and began to read.
This new list detailed the nature of the sects' techniques—their methods, their paths, their hidden edges.
He read in silence, eyes narrowing at times, pausing in thought at others.
By the time he reached the end, he leaned back in his chair and gathered his own conclusions, distilling the scattered details into a clear picture.
Heavenly Sword Sect: Disciples of the Heavenly Sword Sect train in the Heavenly Sword Technique, a path where one must either choose a blade from the ancient sword grave or forge a sword of their own. Their cultivation is tied to the sword itself, nurturing blade and body as one.
Frozen Heart Sect: Those who join the Frozen Heart Sect practice the Ice Petal Technique, forcing themselves to live within bitter cold environment. Through this harsh training, they adapt to the freezing chill and draw Qi from it.
Earth Demon Sect: Disciples of the Earth Demon Sect temper their bodies through the Black Tortoise Technique, refining flesh and bone with Qi. They endure brutal trials until their bodies become as unyielding as stone, resisting fire and blade alike.
Sky Water Sect: Members of the Sky Water Sect practice the Rainwater Technique, training by drowning themselves in rivers to simulate the edge of death. Through this, they learn to draw Qi with ease from the flow of water.
Immortal Miasma Sect: Followers of the Immortal Miasma Sect cultivate the Rainy Mist Technique, retreating to hidden caves beneath waterfalls. There they remain in seclusion, meditating until they grasp the essence of the mist and break through the Qi Condensation realm.
Zhao Yan skimmed through the list, his lips twitching with faint amusement though he kept his silence.
The candlelight flickered against his face as he turned his gaze toward the city beyond the window, cloaked in darkness. A bitter chuckle slipped from him.
"They're all lunatics," he muttered under his breath.
His brush hovered over the parchment, then with a sharp stroke he struck through a name.
"Sky Water Sect is out," he decided coldly.
"Simulating death just to force a breakthrough… no need to waste thought on them."
Next came the Earth Demon Sect. He frowned, his expression tightening as he considered.
"Trials of unknown danger… and a demonic sect at that." He shook his head and crossed it off.
"Not worth the risk."
His eyes lingered on the Frozen Heart Sect. He circled the name with a steady hand, his voice low.
"Now this one… is not a bad choice."
"Their method is harsh, but simple enough—endure the cold, master the technique. That, I can endure."
Finally, his attention fell on the last two names: the Heavenly Sword Sect and the Immortal Miasma Sect. For a long moment he weighed them, his brow furrowed in thought.
Slowly, he circled the latter. "The Immortal Miasma Sect," he murmured.
"One of the most powerful sects in the world. A demonic giant, feared by all."
"The list says menial disciples face little danger, but…" He paused, eyes narrowing. "A demonic sect is still a demonic sect. Best to keep it as a final option."
Zhao Yan's eyes lingered on the final name—Heavenly Sword Sect—and a faint smile tugged at his lips.
From beneath the pile, he pulled out another sheet, the parchment crisp with detailed notes.
His voice dropped to a murmur as he read, almost reverent in tone.
"Counted among the three strongest sects of the western continent… a pillar of the righteous path."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing in thought.
A sect that breeds only swordsmen.
Focused, disciplined… and above all, safe.
No twisted methods, no hidden traps.
By far the strongest sect on this side of this world.
With deliberate care, he circled its name, the ink pressing deep into the fibers of the paper.
"The Heavenly Sword Sect, then," he declared softly.
"Frozen Heart will be my second choice… and the Immortal Miasma, my last resort."
A sigh escaped him, though his confidence didn't waver.
"And if fate doesn't favor me tomorrow, there's always next year."
"Afterall, anyone between the ages of Fifteen to Twenty-five can participate in the sect recruitment… multiple times."
Satisfied, he gathered the scattered sheets into a neat stack and slid them aside.
Then, without another word, he collapsed back onto the bed, letting the weariness of the day catch up to him.
The wooden frame creaked softly under his weight as he closed his eyes, determined to steal what rest he could before the trials at dawn.
Menial disciples, he thought with faint distaste, the words carrying an edge of irony.
Even the title reeks of poverty.
That bitter thought lingered only a moment before sleep claimed him, drawing him into the quiet before the storm.
...
At first light, Zhao Yan stirred awake, a yawn slipping past his lips as he pushed himself from the bed. His gaze drifted lazily to the table drawer—only to freeze.
The pouch of two gold coins and several silvers was gone, along with the neatly stacked papers he had placed there the night before.
"Thief!" He shot upright, rifling through the room in haste, only to find his new clothes untouched in the cupboard. A sigh of relief escaped him.
"Good thing I kept everything in the Inventory," he muttered, checking the space only he could see.
Inventory: 53 Gold, 900 Silver.
The System had even converted the jewels bandits offered into the pity points which were valued at more than a hundred gold—but he had not took the jewels, after all, he only needed coins at that time.
But still he got the revulsion points and pity points from them even though he didn't took the jewels with him, this helped him increase his understanding of the system.
After checking everything, he set about the morning calmly. He washed, dressed in the fine clothes he'd purchased, and ordered breakfast to his room.
The luxury of the garments, soft against his skin, stood in sharp contrast to the unease of the theft. Yet he let it pass.
Today held more important matters.
When he finally stepped out of the Dragon Inn, sunlight washed over him in a golden haze.
His next destination—the Central Square.