Chapter 11: I Disagree

On the open plain, Fang Wang maintained his own steady pace. Seven people had already overtaken him, but he was in no hurry; he even wondered if Zhou Xue could catch up. Of the remaining eight from the Fang family, he reckoned only Zhou Xue had a chance. Although Fang Hanyu had cultivated spiritual power, he was ultimately just a martial artist; merely crossing that towering mountain would have been an insurmountable challenge for him, let alone reaching this far.

As Zhou Xue had remarked, this trial was set for those with a foundation in cultivation, not for mere mortals.

Time slipped by.

After roughly half an hour, Fang Wang spotted a vast fog bank on the horizon, the silhouettes of mountains looming—majestic and enigmatic. Compared to these, the high mountains flanking the plain seemed insignificant.

At first glance, Fang Wang thought of the Taiyuan Sect.

Could the sect’s domain be just ahead?

Hopeful, Fang Wang pressed on, soon noticing a crowd gathered before a cliff. As he was about to stop, a voice suddenly shouted, “I forfeit!”

As soon as the words fell, a streak of azure light descended from the sky, brushing past that person. A wisp of the azure glow spiraled out, encircling the person and carrying him away, vanishing swiftly into the fog beyond the precipice.

A magical artifact?

Even Fang Wang’s keen eyes could not discern exactly what it was.

He walked to a secluded spot, peering over the cliff’s edge. The abyss below was fathomless and pitch-black, the sides shrouded in thick mist. Judging by eye, it was at least ten miles to the mountains beyond the fog.

He would have to fly across.

Glancing around, Fang Wang saw that even some who had displayed sword-riding techniques earlier now looked helpless. Judging by their exhaustion, their spiritual energy was spent; some even sat cross-legged on the ground, taking pills.

So that’s allowed?

Fang Wang harbored no resentment, only a sigh—scions of noble houses truly lived differently.

“What are you staring at? Out of spiritual power?”

A familiar voice sounded behind him. Fang Wang turned to see Zhou Xue landing before him, standing atop a flying sword.

Fang Wang was curious—where did this sword come from?

Zhou Xue didn’t dismount but waved her hand; a slender sword flew from her storage pouch. Fang Wang reached out and caught it.

The moment he gripped it, he sensed the spiritual energy within—a magic sword, not an ordinary blade.

He looked at Zhou Xue in surprise. “Where did you get this?”

With a smirk, Zhou Xue merely waved and soared away, vanishing into the mist in a blink.

Fang Wang couldn’t help but recall the duel he had witnessed earlier. Had Zhou Xue stolen it? It would make sense—such was the way of demonic cultivators.

He pondered no further, channeling his spiritual energy into the sword. He leaped up, and the sword settled beneath his feet, bearing him into the fog.

His mastery of the sword-riding art made controlling the blade effortless, helped by the fact that this was not a high-grade artifact. As Zhou Xue had mentioned, powerful magic tools were difficult to tame; only by forging a spirit bond could cultivators wield them freely.

The wind howled past his face. Fang Wang smiled—this was the joy of sword flight.

Riding the sword, he pressed forward on the wind. His spirits soared; standing proud in the heavens, a wave of heroism welled in his chest. No wonder so many sought the immortal path.

Entering the dense fog, he suddenly heard strange noises and drew his sword.

A black hawk burst forth, talons slashing at him with astonishing speed—beyond even the greatest martial artists. Fang Wang raised his sword, spiritual power flaring as sword energy cut down the threat.

The hawk dissolved into smoke and vanished, causing Fang Wang to arch an eyebrow.

Not a living creature—another trial.

He advanced warily, parrying the black hawks that swooped at him from all directions. Fortunately, he dispatched each one.

It wasn’t too difficult.

At last, when he emerged from the sweeping mists, a magnificent range of mountains came into view, soaring as if resting on clouds, peaks rising one after another, the tallest piercing into the heavens, their height beyond measure.

Above him, white cranes guided the way. Following their lead, he descended onto a broad open ground, where Zhou Xue was already waiting.

Landing, Fang Wang gripped his sword and quickly surveyed the scene. Besides the disciples of Taiyuan Sect guarding the front, there were sixteen examinees present, each appearing formidable.

Gu Li cast him a glance but paid him no mind. She remembered this youth, who had run here on foot, clearly not well-off—a fact that assured her he would pose no threat to her ambitions.

Zhou Xue approached Fang Wang, offering praise: “So quick! I thought you’d need some time to adjust.”

Fang Wang smiled. “It took a little while.”

The two stood together, speaking in low voices, while the others kept their distance, each scattered about.

Time continued to pass.

More cultivators emerged from the mist, landing on the ground. Fang Wang noticed that the weakest among them exuded the aura of the fifth stage of Spirit Nurturing, and he marveled inwardly.

No wonder the standards here were so high—these were all elite talents.

After an hour, the number of new disciples already exceeded fifty, causing Fang Wang some alarm. If there were over fifty here alone, and more who had arrived earlier, at least five hundred must have passed the entry trial—this at just Taiyuan Town. Taiyuan City must recruit even more. Thousands of disciples every five years?

“This is why I chose Taiyuan Sect. In a hundred years, it will be the greatest sect in the realm of Great Qi.”

Zhou Xue’s voice reached him via a sound-transmitting technique, prompting Fang Wang to glance at her.

The greatest sect?

He believed it. After all, Zhou Xue was someone reborn. He looked forward all the more to his future cultivation in Taiyuan Sect.

A while later, a white crane descended from the sky. Atop its back lay a squat, portly old man. Fang Wang had noticed the crane before but hadn’t seen anyone riding it.

The crane landed, and the old man sat up slowly. Though dressed in Taiyuan Sect’s robes, he looked slovenly and lacked any immortal bearing.

At the sight of him, Fang Wang silently labeled him as a master.

He must be formidable.

The squat old man stroked his beard, surveying the crowd before smiling. “Not bad, not bad. Fifty-two in total. It seems Taiyuan Sect is set for a renaissance. Since you’ve reached this place, you’re all qualified to become branch disciples.”

“In Taiyuan Sect, rank and status ascend from outer disciple, inner disciple, branch disciple, sword-bearing disciple, to personal disciple. Outer and inner disciples may also choose a branch for cultivation, but must start as menials. Branch disciples can directly select a master upon the branch peak of their choice.”

Everyone listened intently, pleasing the squat elder.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am the branch’s honored elder. You may call me the Realman Who Loves Sleep. My name may sound amusing, but in the cultivation world, it is renowned.”

The squat elder—Realman Who Loves Sleep—smirked with pride.

A blue-robed youth stepped forward, eyes full of awe and respect. “I have heard of your legend, sir. It’s said that in the righteous-demonic war a century ago, you alone stormed Ancient Demon Mountain, slaying over a thousand fiends with your sword. That victory broke the morale of the demonic path and hastened the return of peace.”

Realman Who Loves Sleep lifted his chin, nostrils flaring arrogantly.

Gu Li shot the blue-robed youth a glance, disdain flashing in her veiled eyes. Most of the crowd, hearing this tale for the first time, looked on in admiration.

Fang Wang thought to himself—indeed, a true master! Likely one of the sect’s top figures—carefree in appearance, but surely formidable when it mattered.

“Enough, back to business. You are now branch disciples, eligible to vie for the positions of sword-bearing and personal disciple.” Realman Who Loves Sleep coughed and grew solemn.

A young woman could not help but ask, “We can directly compete for personal disciple? None of the Nine Great Sects offer such a precedent.”

Other noble scions murmured excitedly among themselves.

Realman Who Loves Sleep replied proudly, “It was so in the past, but not anymore. Taiyuan Sect breaks with tradition to nurture true talent. All of you have reached the Spirit Nurturing realm; now you may compete. Those who wish to become personal disciples may step forward and face all challengers alone. Triumph, and you will earn the title of personal disciple. The five best performers will become sword-bearing disciples.”

Face all challengers alone!

At these words, silence fell.

Fang Wang glanced at Zhou Xue, silently asking if she intended to compete.

She nodded, though a faint frown creased her brow—clearly, this was unexpected.

Could it be that in her previous life, she was not a Taiyuan Sect disciple?

Fang Wang couldn’t help but wonder if Zhou Xue had ulterior motives regarding the sect.

Gu Li stepped forward and asked, “Elder, if more than one person wishes to become a personal disciple, who will face all challengers?”

Her question drew nods from over a dozen others—all brimming with confidence.

Realman Who Loves Sleep smiled faintly. “That depends on you. A personal disciple holds the authority to enforce the rules and manage others; he or she must have the power to command respect.”

Gu Li stepped forward. “My name is Gu Li, from the Gu clan of North Luo. I have cultivated for twelve years, reaching the ninth stage of Spirit Nurturing, and mastered my father Gu Tianxiong’s Five Sacred Sword Arts. I seek the position of personal disciple—does anyone object?”

The Gu clan of North Luo!

Most present were visibly moved, piquing Fang Wang’s curiosity—just how powerful was this clan?

A black-clad man in a bamboo hat crossed his arms and snorted, “The Gu clan of North Luo is certainly worthy. I’ll let you take the lead. I’m curious if the Five Sacred Sword Arts can truly defeat all peers.”

With that, none others dared step forward.

Fang Wang sighed inwardly. When would the Fang clan of Nanqiu ever command such awe?

“Hurry—you can’t imagine the benefits of being a personal disciple. My physical body’s aptitude is inferior to yours; I have many opportunities ahead, but for you, your path cannot always rely on me. Unless you wish to become a demon, and as for the Gu clan of North Luo, they’ll be destroyed in twenty years at most—they’re no threat to you!” Zhou Xue’s transmission reached him.

Fang Wang had already decided to step forward; Zhou Xue’s encouragement simply removed any hesitation.

Thus resolved, Fang Wang stepped out. “I object.”

Instantly, all eyes turned to him. His heart trembled, but he forced a calm demeanor, meeting Gu Li’s gaze with steady resolve.