As they swarmed up Yunlan Mountain, a red-haired youth was slowly strolling the streets at the foot of the mountain, his pace unhurried. Every so often, he would crane his neck to look ahead or stop to peruse the street vendors’ stalls.
The clothes he wore, even a single button, could purchase the entire stall, yet he was still engrossed in fiddling with the trinkets on display.
At this moment, a crisp and resonant chirp suddenly echoed from the sky.
A red figure circled in the clouds overhead before descending straight down.
The youth glanced up, then naturally raised his arm. The red figure landed on his shoulder—it was a palm-sized fiery red bird with a note tied to its leg.
The youth untied the note with one hand, then slowly unfolded it.
The note read: "Mo’er, your leaving without a word made us very worried. If you left because of the assessment, your father hopes you won’t be discouraged, there’s still a chance. If you just wanted to relax, we’re waiting for your return."
A simple sentence, but the youth read it with a tinge of sadness. His smile faded as he put away the note.
He borrowed paper and pen from a shop, quickly scribbled three words—"I am fine!"
But writing "fine" didn’t mean he was truly fine; he just didn’t want his parents to worry about him anymore.
After writing, he tucked the note back to the fiery red bird, watching it fly into the clouds and disappear.
The youth’s real name was Qin Mo, from a small island in East Lake, called Flying Fish Island.
Flying Fish Island is far from Cangwu City, a thousand miles distant, and ordinary people would take half a year to reach it. Traveling such a long distance to Cangwu City, Qin Mo was actually just trying to unwind.
To relieve the pressure and confusion within himself.
Because he lost terribly in the first assessment as heir of Flying Fish Island. He still vaguely remembered the disappointment on the faces of tens of thousands watching him that day, lingering discomfort.
If he were a spoiled rich kid, losing would just be losing; the result of not trying hard enough, there would be nothing to say. But in truth, he wasn’t someone without learning or skills. On the contrary, he was focused on by his father from a young age, spending ninety percent of his time cultivating over 18 years.
Adding to that was a Profound Realm expert personally teaching him, and he was given the best resources.
Medicinal meals, spiritual cuisine, training with Great Demons, things others dreamed of were at his fingertips.
At 10, he entered Body Refinement, at 15 reached Body Refining Sixth Layer, and now was at the Body Refining Eighth Layer, always under such a halo. On Flying Fish Island, he was universally acknowledged as the top talent and the next island master.
On the day of the assessment, his 5-year-old sister told him, if you win, make me a swing, okay? He promised with a smile. And with the expectations of his mother, grandparents, and everyone in the Qin Family, he gave a confident smile before stepping onto the stage.
But what happened? He lost the assessment, letting everyone’s expectations down.
Those who hadn’t experienced a battle like that thought he still had a chance because there was a second assessment. But having been through that battle, he knew the enormous gap between him and his opponent.
He exerted all his strength, but his opponent was just warming up.
So he chose to take a breather, hoping to shake off the nightmare his opponent left him and find a better state to continue cultivating.
"Let’s keep going until the East Lake ends, then I’ll return." With that, Qin Mo strode out of the shop, continuing down the street. But he didn’t go far before he saw a sign.
Written on it: Entry conditions—15 years old, Body Refining Fifth Layer, pay an entry fee of 1000 gold.
"What on earth is this?"
Qin Mo walked up and fiddled with the sign, unable to help but laugh. Glancing at the Sword Stele, he chuckled and said, "A small sect dares set such a standard? 15-year-olds at Body Refining Fifth Layer paying to enter? It’s truly laughable to the extreme."
With that, he took steps up Yunlan Mountain.
For no other reason, he just wanted to see what existence this presumptuous sect had.
As he continued up, suddenly a shock ran through him. Balancing on tiptoe, he quickly jumped aside. Once settled, he patted himself, thinking he narrowly avoided stepping in something unpleasant.
Standing, he glanced upward twice, seeing flowering moss on stone steps and vines spreading, finally focusing on another dry pile of dung on the steps.
"How long has this sect been abandoned?"
He thought at least half a year must have passed since anyone swept these steps, otherwise how could they be so dirty?
This kind of sect even dares set entry standards at 15 years old, Body Refining Fifth Layer? Aren’t they afraid of not recruiting any disciples?
Moving forward a bit, he suddenly heard an angry shout from above.
"Get down, if you keep trespassing on Immortal Sect’s grounds, don’t blame me if I..." Before finishing, Yang Lele approached a peculiar rock by the steps, estimating at over a thousand pounds, yet he lifted it with both hands.
Not only lifting it, but he also swung it a few times, scaring the clan leaders to retreat fearfully down the mountain.
Witnessing this, Qin Mo was inwardly startled, because even at Body Refining Eighth Layer he couldn’t guarantee such strength. He quickly walked up to Yang Lele, exclaiming, "Friend, your arm strength is immense."
Yang Lele glanced at Qin Mo, smiled slightly, then slowly placed the rock back, face unflushed, breath steady, seeming like he did it effortlessly. Then, smiling, he replied, "Piece of cake."
Qin Mo, observing this, scrutinized Yang Lele, as if confirming whether he was a Transformed Demon. After a while, Yang Lele felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny and was about to shoo Qin Mo away.
Qin Mo spoke, "Friend, to have such strength at your age, truly born with divine power!"
With that, Qin Mo mused to himself: With such power in this dilapidated sect, he must be Elder level, right? I wonder if I fought him, relying purely on physical strength, would I have a seventy percent chance?
"Right, friend, how should I address you?"
"Elder Yang, your strength truly amazes me. I wonder if we could..."
Just as Qin Mo was about to suggest a spar, Yang Lele quickly shook his head, "Friend, don’t call me that carelessly. If the elders hear, I’d be doomed. I’m just an ordinary disciple, you can just call me Lele."
"Lele? Brother Yang, you really joke!" Making him believe Yang Lele was just a regular disciple was something he utterly refused to buy.
"Do I look like I’m joking? If I were an elder, wouldn’t I just accept it?" With that, Yang Lele suddenly shouted, "Hurry up! If Elder Yun sees you, he won’t be as kind as I am!"