The day of the Yunxiao Sect's disciple recruitment arrived, and cultivators bustled through the city in an endless stream.
The carriage before the Gu manor's gates was already hitched, with Gu Yuanshan and Liu Ruolan standing upon the steps.
Liu Ruolan hadn't stopped bustling about since she woke up that morning.
First, she thrust a storage bag into Gu Yanqing's hands, packed with several hundred spirit stones. Deciding that still wasn't enough, she went back inside, rummaged out multiple bottles of medicinal pills, and shoved them all in as well.
“Mother, that's enough.”
“How is it enough?”
Without looking up, Liu Ruolan added two thick cloaks to it.
“Winters over at the sect are much colder than in Canglan City. Don't you know you've been susceptible to the cold since childhood? Drape one over yourself while meditating at night so you don't freeze.”
After thinking it over, she turned back inside again, emerged carrying a small pouch of spirit fruits, and forcibly stuffed it into the already bulging storage bag.
“Eat them on the road.”
“Mother.”
Gu Yanqing fastened the storage bag. “I'm going to a sect to cultivate, not fleeing a famine.”
“What do you know?”
Liu Ruolan glared at him, then reached out to straighten his collar.
“Once you're there, remember to stay in touch often. Don't keep everything to yourself like you do at home.”
Gu Yuanshan walked up and patted him on the shoulder.
He didn't say much, just a single sentence.
“Go see the world outside.”
Gu Yanqing nodded.
Lin Zhixue walked over from the direction of the alley.
She had changed into a plain dress, her long hair tied back with that pale green ribbon, a longsword hanging at her waist.
Xiaohe followed behind her, eyes rimmed with red all the way from the alley to the entrance of the Gu manor, having secretly dabbed at her eyes with her sleeves multiple times.
Lin Zhixue turned to look at her. Xiaohe sniffled and tried hard to curl her lips into a smile.
“Don't worry about anything, Miss. I'll take good care of the spirit herbs in the plot.”
She paused briefly before adding, “You take good care of yourself, too.”
Lin Zhixue reached out to tidy the stray hair on Xiaohe's forehead, then turned and walked toward the carriage.
Xiaoyu drifted out from the jade pendant, rested on Lin Zhixue's shoulder, and waved at Xiaohe, not caring whether anyone could see it or not.
The carriage rolled out of Canglan City, heading north along the official highway.
Outside the window, the scenery gradually shifted from bluestone streets and alleys into rolling fields and distant mountains. The everyday bustling atmosphere of the city faded, replaced by the fresh crispness of the wilderness.
Xiaoyu floated to and fro inside the carriage, darting outside the window every now and then for a look before flying back to chatter away.
“There's a river ahead!” “That mountain over there is so tall!” “We just passed a field, and an ox was looking right at us!”
Gu Yanqing had long grown used to the little fellow's clamor.
“What is the Yunxiao Sect really like?” Lin Zhixue asked.
“It looks imposing from the outside, but once you've lived there for a while, it's just so-so.”
Gu Yanqing leaned against the carriage window. “Still, their Scripture Pavilion is indeed quite large. Once we arrive, you should visit often.”
Xiaoyu drifted back, crossed its arms, and looked at him. “How do you know their Scripture Pavilion is big? It's not like you've been there.”
Gu Yanqing's expression didn't change, pretending once again not to hear.
...
A few days later, the carriage came to a halt before the mountain gate of the Yunxiao Sect.
Lin Zhixue lifted the carriage curtain and looked up.
The mountain gate rose over a hundred zhang high, flanked by sheer cliffs as steep as if cleaved by a blade. Engraved upon the gatehouse were the two characters “Yunxiao,” their brushstrokes fierce and sharp, remaining as clear as new despite enduring years of wind and rain.
Mist swirled up from the mountainside, making the entire sect appear as if suspended midair.
Countless flying boats sailed in from every direction, descending slowly before the mountain gate. From each flying boat emerged a group of young cultivators—some dressed in brocade and fine silks accompanied by entourages of servants, others travel-worn and carrying only a single sword.
The square before the mountain gate teemed with people, numbering at least a thousand.
Xiaoyu drifted out of the jade pendant and looked up at the mountain gate, staying quiet for quite a while.
Then it murmured something softly, drowned out by the rushing wind of landing flying boats.
Standing beside her, Gu Yanqing also looked up for a moment.
Having read the original work, he knew the Yunxiao Sect was massive, but written descriptions and seeing it with one's own eyes were two completely different things.
Every formation pattern engraved upon the mountain gate subtly resonated with the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, still operating as flawlessly as ever after running for who knew how many years.
This was a true immortal cultivation sect, far beyond what the petty family clans in Canglan City could ever compare to.
Over a dozen long lines snaked before the registration area. Gu Yanqing and Lin Zhixue waited for nearly half a shichen before their turn arrived.
The deacon disciple in charge of registration asked for their names and cultivation realms, noted each down, and handed over two wooden tablets carved with numbers.
Gu Yanqing was number one hundred and twelve, while Lin Zhixue was number four hundred and seven.
Jiang Yinglan stood on a raised platform not far from the registration area, holding a roster scroll in hand as she spoke with several disciples also clad in inner sect robes.
Seeing them, she did not walk over, only waving her hand in greeting.
The stone platform for testing spirit roots sat right in the center of the square, crowded with people.
The first few people went up one by one to be tested, revealing either triple or quadruple spirit roots.
The elder in charge of recording kept a blank face, noting down the information with his head bowed before calling the next person.
When it was Gu Yanqing's turn, he reached out and pressed his hand onto the spirit-testing stone. Two rays of light—gold and brown—illuminated its surface: dual metal-earth spirit roots.
The elder glanced up at him, nodded slightly, and jotted a note on the roster.
Then came Lin Zhixue's turn.
She stepped forward, set her wooden tablet beside the platform, and pressed her hand onto the spirit-testing stone.
The surface of the stone stayed still for a breath, and then a gentle blue glow welled up from deep within its core.
The light was exceedingly pure without a trace of extraneous color, like the faint blue cast by snow atop a mountain peak just beginning to melt beneath the sunlight.
The area surrounding the testing platform suddenly fell silent. Several chatting deacon disciples looked back, and the cultivators waiting in line craned their necks to stare.
The recording elder set down his brush, raised his head, and gave her an extra look.
A single water spirit root.
Standing on the high platform, Jiang Yinglan tucked the roster beneath her arm, the corners of her lips curling upward slightly.
Just as expected.
Once testing ended, the deacon disciples acting as guides began separating the crowd.
Those in the Foundation Establishment realm followed a green-robed disciple toward the mountain path on the left, while those in the Qi Refining realm followed another disciple toward the stone stairs on the right.
Gu Yanqing and Lin Zhixue stood at the fork in the path. Around them was a clamorous crowd—some excitedly calling to friends, others nervously checking their artifacts again and again.
The two exchanged a look; neither said a word.
Immediately afterward, each turned and headed off in their own direction.
The inner sect assessment grounds were situated on an isolated side peak.
Gu Yanqing was led to a stone platform, where a Late Foundation Establishment inner disciple was already standing. Burly in stature and holding a greatsword across his chest, he watched Gu Yanqing impassively.
The assessment rules were simple.
One did not have to decide victory or defeat; enduring for an incense stick's time, or demonstrating sufficient combat ability, was considered a pass.
Drawing his longsword, he stepped onto the stone platform.
The opposing disciple's greatsword slid from its sheath, and the oppressive aura of Late Foundation Establishment bore down head-on.
Gu Yanqing took a deep breath, channeled the footwork of the Roaming Cloud Technique beneath his feet, and sidestepped to evade the first strike.
The greatsword crashed onto the stone platform, kicking up a shower of sparks. Meanwhile, Gu Yanqing's sword had already thrust out backhanded, stabbing toward his opponent's ribs from a tricky angle.
The disciple swept his blade back to parry. As the two swords collided, the clash of spiritual power let out a crisp ring.
The vibration left Gu Yanqing's arm slightly numb, yet his stance did not waver in the slightest.
After six rounds of body tempering, head-on clashes of this degree were nothing to him anymore.
An incense stick's time later, he sheathed his sword. His breathing was slightly disordered, but he stood tall and straight.
Several sword marks of varying depth scored the stone platform. A tear had been ripped in his sleeve, yet no blood was drawn.
The opposing disciple sheathed the greatsword back onto his back, nodded to him, and turned to say something to the deacon disciple below the platform.
The deacon disciple jotted a few strokes on the roster, then handed him an inner disciple token.
“Number one hundred and twelve, Gu Yanqing, passed.”
Rate on N.U.
