Fan Xing leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Twenty gold will only buy a place as a menial disciple."
"To become an outer disciple, one still needs cultivation or a spirit root."
Zhao Yan gave a faint nod, but before he could respond, a ripple of noise surged through the crowd.
Heads tilted skyward, and Zhao Yan followed their gaze.
From the clouds above, a massive bull emerged, its horns curving like crescent moons, its colossal hooves treading on nothing as it strode out of the heavens themselves.
The creature descended slowly, each step sending tremors through the square until it settled upon another empty platform.
A banner unfurled at once, bold letters marking it clearly: Earth Demon Sect.
Beside the beast floated a dark sphere no larger than a clenched fist, pulsing with ominous energy.
Yet the sight that stole everyone's breath was the bull itself.
Its body began to shift, muscle and hide twisting as if reality bent around it, until the beast stood reshaped as a man.
Clad in flowing black robes, his eyes gleamed like molten gold as he swept his cold gaze across the crowd.
With a flick of his sleeve, the stone beneath him cracked open, raising a throne and a table from the earth itself.
He seated himself in silence, closing his eyes as though the world around him no longer existed.
On the side, two boards appeared as if summoned by unseen hands:
Aptitude Test Fee – 1 Gold.
Admission Fee – 20 Gold.
Zhao Yan's breath caught as he watched the black-robed man's body shift so effortlessly, but before the awe could settle, the ground beneath him trembled.
The entire central square quaked as if an earthquake were tearing through Florence city itself.
Both the white-robed elder of the Frozen Heart Sect and the golden-eyed figure of the Earth Demon Sect snapped their eyes open, their gazes lifting skyward in unison, their expressions sharpened with surprise.
Clank… Clank…
The air rang with steel.
Sword cries erupted all around, echoing from every corner of the city.
Zhao Yan looked up and saw him— a young man in light blue robes, walking across the heavens as though the sky itself were solid ground, his figure straight and unyielding like a sword forged by the heavens.
The moment his eyes swept across the square, countless blades shivered free from their scabbards.
From rooftops, stalls, guard belts, even family heirlooms hidden in homes—every sword soared skyward.
They gathered around him in a great halo, whirling in reverent orbit.
The young man lowered his gaze to the circling blades, his voice calm yet commanding.
"Go."
With a single flick of his sleeve, the halo broke apart.
Every sword returned to its rightful place, sliding neatly back into scabbards as though nothing had ever happened.
The storm of steel vanished, leaving only silence.
But the young man walked down towards the platform, each stride steady and measured.
And just as his feet touched stone, the awe-inspiring pressure evaporated.
No trace of his overwhelming aura lingered—only the quiet presence of a man who had descended like a sword from the heavens.
The black-robed man and the white-robed man immediately rose to their feet, bowing low with fists cupped, their voices ringing in unison:
"Junior greets Immortal Master."
Their reverence echoed like a tide rolling across the square.
Even Baili Dengfeng, along with the sea of onlookers, followed suit, their heads lowered as they shouted together, "Greetings, Immortal Master!"
Fan Xing was already bent in obeisance, and seeing this, Zhao Yan quickly mirrored the gesture, awe pressing down on his chest.
The young man in light blue robes lifted his hand in a casual wave.
Instantly, the throng straightened, though none dared to even breathe too loudly, let alone let their swords tremble again.
Then, in a calm but resonant voice, the azure-robed figure spoke, his gaze tilted toward the heavens:
"Why don't you come out?"
The sky answered with a crack of thunder.
Bolts tore across the clouds and crashed down upon the last empty platform.
From the blazing storm, a figure emerged—graceful, commanding, wrapped in violet silk that split at the thigh to reveal a poised step.
Her sharp brows framed eyes like polished obsidian, and her lips, crimson as flame, curved with dignity.
She descended as though born from lightning itself, then halted, folding her hands respectfully as she bowed.
Her voice carried like a bell:
"Junior Ji Xin greets the Sword Immortal."
"Sword Immortal?" The young man in navy blue robes let out a soft laugh, his tone light yet edged with pride.
"I have yet to reach unity. That lofty title hardly belongs to me—at least, not yet." His denial carried humility, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed the confidence of someone certain his path would lead him there.
The woman in violet, Ji Xin, inclined her head slightly, her voice carrying both elegance and force.
"Our sect wishes to recruit Baili Dengfeng. I trust the Sword Immortal will have no objection."
The azure-robed man's expression remained calm, though his reply cut with quiet sharpness.
"Shouldn't the choice rest with him? Why are you speaking on his behalf?"
At once, the gazes of both figures, heavy as mountains, shifted toward Baili Dengfeng.
The boy stood beneath the weight of their scrutiny, his back straight, pride radiating in every line of his posture.
At only fifteen, his build was already strong, his face striking, and his spirit root unmatched.
Instead of trembling, his eyes burned with anticipation, as though the future were a challenge he couldn't wait to seize.
Lowering his head in formal respect, his voice rang out with clarity: "This junior humbly seeks to learn the conditions for joining your esteemed sects, honored seniors."
...
Zhao Yan stood frozen, his mind struggling to keep pace with what he was hearing.
Immortal Master?
Sword Immortal?
His chest tightened as the realization hit him.
'Golden Core cultivators… no, that youth in azure—could he already be at the Nascent Soul realm?' The very thought made his scalp tingle.
His gaze drifted to Baili Dengfeng, and for a fleeting moment, envy clawed at him.
'He should be… No!'
'He's the chosen one, the protagonist of this world.'
The boy carried himself like someone born for the heavens, while Zhao Yan lingered in the shadows.
But then he remembered the system he has.
The corners of his lips twitched with reluctant comfort.
'Maybe I'm not so hopeless either… though my path won't be glorious—it's full of things I'd rather not recall.'
Images of his disgraceful antics in the bandits mountain flashed before his eyes, and he nearly buried his face in his hands.
With a deep breath, he pushed the thoughts aside.
'This isn't the time to wallow.'
He straightened slightly, ears tuned sharply to hear the words of the so-called Sword Immortal of the Heavenly Sword Sect and Ji Xin of the Immortal Miasma Sect.
...