The token arrived a week later, delivered not by a sect disciple, but by a street urchin who claimed a "shiny man" had given him a copper to hand it over. It was a simple, unadorned disc of dark iron, cool to the touch. On one side was the character for "Cloud," on the other, a number: 77.
"Object Analysis: Imprinted with a unique spiritual signature. Serves as both identifier and entry pass. No tracking formations detected. The method of delivery indicates a desire for deniability from Elder Wei."
Li Yao held the token, feeling its weight. It was more than iron; it was a key. A key to the next stage of his path, and a key that could also lock him in a cage of sect politics. He had traded the open, if dangerous, freedom of the wild for the structured, hierarchical peril of the Soaring Cloud Sect. It was a necessary gamble.
The public registrations for the disciple selection began, flooding the city square with thousands of hopefuls—children of merchants, farmers who had awakened a spark, and ambitious mortals. The noise was immense, a cacophony of dreams and desperation. Li Yao watched from a rooftop, his sharpened senses picking out the threads of conversation. He saw Wang Jin, standing with a contingent of guards, not needing to queue, his face a mask of arrogant certainty. He was a guaranteed entrant, his path paved by his father's contributions.
Li Yao's path would be different. As a recommended candidate, he would bypass this circus.
The day of the preliminary selection arrived. Instead of the city square, he presented his token at a secluded side entrance of the Soaring Cloud Pavilion. A stern-faced disciple examined it, his aura pressing down on Li Yao—a Mid Core Formation expert.
"Number 77. Follow me. Do not speak unless spoken to."
He was led through quiet, polished corridors into a vast, enclosed courtyard. Here, there were only a hundred others. These were the recommended candidates. The children of allied smaller clans, the personally scouted talents, and the wildcards like himself. The air was thick with tension, but it was a cold, competitive tension, not the frantic energy of the mob outside.
He could feel their auras. Most were in the Late Stage of Essence Gathering, a few were at Perfection, and a handful, the scions of the most powerful local families, had already formed Cores, their energy radiating outwards like small furnaces. He was, by raw power, near the bottom.
He kept his hood up and his aura suppressed, cycling the [Breath of the Primordial Awakening] in reverse to appear weaker than he was. The [Shadow-Water Tread] made his movements silent and unassuming. He was a ghost, a piece of the background.
The first test was not of power, but of perception.
A Senior Disciple stood before them. "Cultivation is not merely the accumulation of power. It is the comprehension of the world. Before you are one hundred stones. Ninety-nine are mundane river rock. One is a 'Spirit-Ember Stone,' its energy contained and dormant. You have one incense stick to find it. Using brute force to scan them will disqualify you. You must feel it."
This was a test of spiritual sensitivity, of the foundational skill the System had been drilling into him since he first learned to sense the residual energy in garbage. While others closed their eyes and cast out wide, clumsy spiritual nets, Li Yao walked slowly among the stones. He didn't push his senses out; he let them drift, like smoke, feeling the subtle textures of the ambient Qi.
The System provided a quiet, running commentary, but he found he didn't need it. His months of discerning the faint spiritual signature of a crushed petal from the rot surrounding it had honed this sense to a razor's edge.
He stopped before a seemingly ordinary, grey stone. It felt... empty. But it was a purposeful emptiness, a void that repelled the ambient Qi, whereas the other stones were merely inert. It was hiding.
He picked it up.
A few candidates glanced his way, surprised at his speed. Most were still searching frantically. He saw Wang Jin, two rows over, frowning in concentration, having yet to find his target.
The Senior Disciple noted Li Yao's success with a raised eyebrow. "Number 77. Pass."
The second test was of control.
They were led to a series of small, isolated rooms. Inside was a complex apparatus: a delicate crystal flower connected by hair-thin silver wires to a metal sphere.
"Your task is to channel your Qi through the wires to make the flower bloom," the disciple instructed. "Too little, and nothing happens. Too much, too fast, and you will shatter the crystal. You have three attempts."
Li Yao entered his room. This was another exercise the System had prepared him for. The [Cyclonic Qi Filtration], the [Tri-Phase Resonance Refinement]—they were all about precision control. Channeling energy was not about opening a floodgate; it was about guiding a single drop through a labyrinth.
He placed his hands on the metal sphere. He didn't push his Qi. He let it flow, a gentle, consistent stream, visualizing it moving through the wires like water through an aqueduct. The crystal petals began to unfurl, slowly, gracefully, glowing with a soft light. He maintained the flow until the flower was fully open, a perfect, radiant bloom.
"Efficiency Rating: 98%. Energy waste: negligible."
He exited the room. The Senior Disciple checked the crystal flower, his expression unreadable. "Pass."
He had cleared the preliminary tests with an ease that belied his apparent cultivation level. He had drawn minimal attention, but the right kind of attention—from the evaluators, not the other candidates.
The final stage for the recommended candidates was a simple aura measurement to confirm their realm. Li Yao stood on the formation circle, and it glowed with a steady, deep blue light.
"Late Essence Gathering. Stable foundation," the recording disciple announced, sounding slightly bored.
As he stepped off, he felt a gaze on him. He turned. It was Wang Jin. The Young Master had just finished his own test (Perfection Sub-Realm, his aura flashy and slightly unstable) and was staring at Li Yao. The hood obscured his face, but not his build, nor the faint, almost familiar feeling of his spiritual signature.
Wang Jin's eyes narrowed. He couldn't be sure. It was just a feeling, a ghost of the "static" that had plagued him. But the seed of suspicion was planted.
Li Yao turned away, melting back into the crowd of successful candidates. He was in. He was now an outer sector disciple candidate of the Soaring Cloud Sect.
The real battle was just beginning. He was in the lion's den, and one of the lions had just caught his scent.
---
Interlude: A Father's Investment
Captain Wang Zhong reviewed the list of successful recommended candidates. His finger stopped at Number 77. Late Essence Gathering. No clan affiliation. Recommended by Elder Wei.
He looked at his son. "This one. Number 77. Elder Wei sponsored him."
Wang Jin, still irritated by the hooded figure, sneered. "A charity case. Probably some peasant with a speck of talent the Elder took pity on."
"Perhaps," Wang Zhong said, his voice quiet. "But Elder Wei does not deal in pity. He deals in assets. I want you to keep an eye on this one. Discreetly. If he is just a talented nobody, recruit him. A man with no backing is easily bought. If he is more..." He let the sentence hang. "The first mission for the new disciples is always a resource gathering trip to the Whispering Fang Forest. That will be your opportunity."
He was investing his son with a new task, a lesson in leadership and manipulation. The net was being cast within the sect itself.
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