The rest exchanged looks before silently dispersing.
Treasures unfurled across the sky as they departed.
The Frozen Heart Sect summoned a glittering ice boat that shimmered under the waning sun.
The Earth Demon Sect mounted a majestic flying crane, its wings stretching wide as it soared upward.
The Sky Water Sect, in their simplicity, merely gathered their disciples and walked away without flourish.
Watching them vanish into the distance, Zhao Yan felt an uncanny tug in his chest.
Deja vu… Just days ago, he had also walked away from one such square, unknown and unremarkable.
But he later understood how wrong his choice was.
And now, he stood as the disciple of the Western Continent's strongest sect. For the first time, he allowed himself to imagine brighter days ahead.
On the platform, the azure-robed man of Heavenly Sword Sect stirred from his meditation, his eyes opening slowly.
His voice carried calm authority: "If you have farewells to make, go now."
"And return swiftly."
At once, the disciples scattered, rushing to find family and friends.
Fan Xing paused, bowing toward Zhao Yan before departing.
"See you later, Brother Zhao," he said with a faint smile, then hurried off.
When the square quieted again, only four figures remained upon the platform—the Immortal Master, Zhao Yan, and two youths who looked slightly older than him.
These were the first prodigies who had mastered the technique within three hours and passed through the barrier.
Zhao Yan's eyes lingered on one of them, a slim-built boy who kept glancing his way but never quite meeting his gaze.
The second was no different but he was tall, shifting uneasily, pretending to study the ground.
Something about the younger guy stirred recognition, a half-memory tugging at him.
"This guy… he looks familiar," Zhao Yan murmured under his breath.
But the faces didn't anchor to any memory, and so he let the thought fade. He simply folded his arms and waited, imagining his bright future.
...
A few hours earlier,
Du Feng's gaze flicked toward a figure outside the platform, eyes closed in meditation.
He leaned toward his taller brother, Du Hong, pride evident in his posture, and whispered, "Brother… that person… doesn't he look like the beggar I saved?"
Du Hong shook his head sharply.
"Impossible. Look at his clothes—such fine robes."
"Not even most noble children could wear something like that. There's no way that's the beggar we saw."
From the corner of his eye, Du Hong tried to catch a glimpse of the figure's face, but the Immortal Master blocked his view.
By the time he focused, the person had already risen and moved away, vanishing into the crowd.
Du Feng followed him with his eyes for a moment, but the figure was gone. He let the thought slip; there was no reason to dwell on it.
Instead, the brothers turned their attention to the other disciples who had managed to comprehend the technique like themselves.
Even so, it became clear—no one present matched the talent and skill of the Du Brothers.
Five hours later, a young man of average looks and a slim build approached the barrier.
Du Feng and Du Hong casually glanced at him, but both froze in shock.
"Beggar?" Du Hong muttered under his breath, disbelief lacing his tone.
Despite the luxurious robes draping his frame, the face and physique still carried the unmistakable imprint of the beggar they had seen before.
Both brothers stared, unable to understand his transformation.
Du Feng leaned closer, whispering, "Brother… should I call him over?"
Du Hong smacked the side of his head, muttering sharply, "Why on earth would you do that?"
"He doesn't know us. Let it be."
Du Feng nodded reluctantly but couldn't stop sneaking glances at the young man, now radiating the presence of a noble, his curiosity impossible to quell.
'We don't even have the means to afford clothes from the Silverbird Company, yet here he is, wearing them openly,' Du Feng thought, awe creeping into his mind.
'Could it be that he's a wealthy young master from Florence City, robbed along the way and forced to wander as a beggar?'
The more he pondered, the more plausible the idea seemed, leaving him both astonished and intrigued.
Du Feng whispered, "Brother, we should try to befriend him. Look at how rich he is!"
Even Du Hong's eyes flicked to the opulent robes the young man wore, but he straightened his posture and said firmly, "We walk the path of cultivation."
"Wealth should never sway us, lest it disturb our journey."
The words felt weighty in his mind, and he couldn't help but feel proud of the line he had spoken.
Du Feng nodded in agreement, though his curiosity lingered.
Once the sect recruitment ended, people began leaving to bid farewell to their families.
The young man turned his gaze toward the Du Brothers, and they quickly averted their eyes.
After all, that night they had robbed the caravan and stolen the legendary Spirit Stone.
They had thought a bribe could secure them a place in the Heavenly Sword Sect.
But now, with the Immortal Master's arrival, the aptitude test had transformed into a comprehension test, allowing them to pass effortlessly without spending a single coin.
...
In less than half an hour, everyone who had gone to bid farewells returned.
The azure-robed man glanced at them with an unreadable expression and simply said, "Let's go!"
In an instant, invisible hands lifted them high into the sky, suspending them effortlessly above the ground.
The Immortal Master stepped forward, his movements slow but immense—each step spanning more than a hundred miles.
For those hovering in the air, the world below became a blur of cities and landscapes rushing past.
Yet not a hint of wind touched them, as they were all covered by the golden Qi, which protected their bodies from the incredible speed they were traveling.
After ten minutes, the group was gently lowered into a courtyard.
An elderly man bowed deeply, his voice reverent: "Disciple greets the Sword Immortal!"
The azure-robed man's voice rang once more, calm and detached: "These are the new recruits from the southern part of the desolate land."
With that, he vanished into the sky, leaving the recruits to take in their new surroundings.
The old man straightened his posture, his gaze sharp and cold as it swept over the new recruits.
"Do I need to teach you how to properly greet your elders?" he asked, his voice carrying authority.