The biting mountain air, thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, swirled around the sprawling complex of the Yīchì Yǔyù Sect. Nestled deep within the treacherous Liànlóng Shān Mountain Range, the sect, a whisper in the wind compared to the grand powers of the wider cultivation world, held its annual recruitment.
The vast, ring-shaped Yīchì Yǔyù Lake, a dark, still mirror reflecting the jagged peaks, guarded its perimeter, a silent promise of the unseen, the rumored water beast that lurked beneath its depths.
Inside the sprawling Recruitment Auditorium, a cacophony of nervous whispers and shuffling feet filled the air. The massive hall, carved from the living rock of the mountain, echoed with the tension of hundreds of hopeful mortals. They were a motley crew, farmers with calloused hands, merchants with shrewd eyes, and wide-eyed youths dreaming of a life beyond their humble origins.
The spectator seats, tiered like a colossal amphitheater, were filled with the sect's disciples, their faces a mix of boredom and casual curiosity.
At the center of the auditorium, a stage of rough-hewn stone stood like an altar, its surface etched with intricate arrays that pulsed with a faint, ethereal glow. At its heart, a stone tablet, ancient and imposing, radiated an aura of profound mystery. The runes carved into its surface shimmered with a subtle, inner light, whispering tales of forgotten epochs and unimaginable power.
A young man, his face etched with a mix of hope and apprehension, nudged his companion. "Look at that tablet, Li Wei. It feels… heavy."
Li Wei, a wiry youth with eyes that darted nervously around the hall, scoffed. "Heavy? It's just a rock, Jian. But a rock that decides our fate, apparently." He spat on the ground, a gesture of nervous defiance. "They say it shows your talent. If you shine, you're in. If not, back to the fields we go."
"Quiet, you two," a stern voice hissed from behind them. A woman, her face weathered by sun and hardship, glared at them. "Show some respect. This is the Yīchì Yǔyù Sect. They don't tolerate insolence."
As the crowd's murmurs grew louder, a figure materialized from thin air, a ripple in the very fabric of space. Elder Tan, a man of serene composure, stood before them. His azure robes, pristine and flowing, seemed to absorb the ambient light, and his face, though aged, held a gentle wisdom. His presence commanded silence.
"Greetings, aspirants," his voice resonated through the hall, a calming balm to the frayed nerves of the crowd.
"I am Elder Tan, and I welcome you to the Yīchì Yǔyù Sect. Today, you stand on the threshold of a new life, a path of cultivation that may lead to unimaginable heights." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the sea of faces. "You are here to prove your worth, to see if the Dao favors you with talent."
He gestured towards the stone tablet. "This, before you, is the Stone of Whispers. It measures the potential that lies within each of you. Place your hand upon it, and it will reveal the depth of your innate talent."
A ripple of uncertainty spread through the crowd. A burly man with arms like tree trunks stepped forward, his face flushed with a mix of bravado and fear. "What… what happens if it doesn't shine?"
Elder Tan's expression remained serene. "If the stone emits no light, it signifies a lack of aptitude for cultivation. You will be returned to your homes."
A collective gasp echoed through the auditorium. Another voice, trembling with anxiety, asked, "And if it shines?"
"The light represents your talent," Elder Tan explained, his voice patient.
"One sphere of light indicates no significant talent. Two spheres, ordinary talent. Three, a promising foundation. Four, true talent. Five, a genius. Six, a generational genius. Seven, an epoch genius. Eight, an era genius. And nine…" he paused, his eyes gleaming with a distant light, "…nine represents a Paragon, a talent that appears once in countless generations."
A murmur of awe swept through the crowd.
"Nine spheres… that's impossible," someone whispered.
"Indeed," Elder Tan agreed, his voice low. "Even seven is a rarity, a treasure sought by the mightiest sects. Five spheres would be considered a blessing. Here, within the Yīchì Yǔyù Sect, even three spheres would be considered a rare talent, a disciple to be cherished."
He stepped back, his eyes fixed on the crowd. "Now, who will be the first to test their fate?"
The silence that followed was thick with anticipation. Then, with a deep breath, the burly man from before stepped forward, his hand outstretched towards the ancient stone.
The atmosphere crackled with tension, every eye in the auditorium fixed on the tableau before them. The Stone of Whispers waited, a silent judge of destiny.
The burly man, his hand trembling, pressed his palm against the cold, smooth surface of the Stone of Whispers. A hush fell over the auditorium, the only sound the faint hum of the array beneath the stage. For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible glow emanated from the tablet, a single, weak sphere of light. A collective sigh swept through the crowd.
"One sphere," Elder Tan announced, his voice devoid of judgment. "You have a faint connection to Dao. You may join the outer sect."
The man's shoulders slumped, a mix of relief and disappointment etched on his face. He shuffled away, his dreams of cultivation glory dimmed but not extinguished.
One after another, the young aspirants stepped forward, each hoping to defy the odds. Some, their arrogance masking their fear, approached the stone with a swagger, only to be met with the stone's cold indifference. Others, their faces pale with anxiety, barely dared to touch the surface, their hopes dashed by the absence of any light.
"Nothing," Elder Tan announced, his voice a steady drumbeat of disappointment. "You have no affinity."
A young woman, her eyes brimming with tears, was led away by a stern-faced disciple. A collective murmur of sympathy rippled through the crowd.
"Waste of time," a gruff voice muttered from the spectator seats. "Bunch of useless mortals."
"Be quiet, Elder Zhao," a woman's voice rebuked. "They have their dreams, just like we once did."
The parade of disappointment continued, a stark reminder of the harsh realities of cultivation. Then, a flicker of hope. A young man, Tian Sheng, stepped forward, his eyes calm and his posture confident. He placed his hand on the stone, and a soft, warm glow spread across its surface, forming two distinct spheres of light.
"Two spheres!" a disciple exclaimed, his voice filled with surprise.
"Tian Sheng," Elder Tan announced, a hint of approval in his tone. "Ordinary talent, but a solid foundation. You will be welcomed into the inner sect."
A ripple of applause echoed through the auditorium. Tian Sheng, his face flushed with pride, bowed respectfully to Elder Tan. "Thank you, Elder."
He stepped back, a beacon of hope in the sea of disappointment. The crowd's spirits lifted, a sense of anticipation filling the air. Perhaps, they thought, there was still hope.
Then, a young woman, Ying Zhan, stepped forward. She was a vision of youthful energy, her eyes sparkling with excitement and her posture radiating confidence. At fifteen, she possessed a vibrant beauty and a spirit that seemed to fill the auditorium. She placed her hand on the stone, and a brilliant, three-sphere glow illuminated the hall.
A collective gasp echoed through the auditorium.
"Three spheres!" a disciple shouted, his voice filled with awe.
Elder Tan's eyes widened slightly, a rare display of surprise.
"Ying Zhan," he announced, his voice tinged with admiration. "Exceptional talent. You will be given special consideration."
Ying Zhan, her face beaming, playfully nodded her head, a gesture of self-satisfied appreciation.
"Thank you, Elder," she said, her voice bright and cheerful. "I knew I had it in me!"
A wave of excitement swept through the crowd. Three spheres! It was a rare sight, a testament to the young woman's extraordinary potential. The disciples in the spectator seats buzzed with excitement, their eyes fixed on the young woman.
"She's a natural," a disciple whispered. "With training, she could go far."
"Imagine if she had more spheres," another disciple mused. "She would be unstoppable."
The atmosphere in the auditorium had shifted. The air crackled with renewed hope, and the remaining aspirants, their eyes filled with a mix of envy and admiration, stepped forward with renewed determination.
The brilliant glow of Ying Zhan's three spheres still lingered in the air when the spectators' buzz turned into a full-blown uproar, especially among the elders. Elder Su, a woman of breathtaking beauty and a figure that could launch a thousand desires, leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with predatory interest.
"Such talent," she purred, her voice a silken caress that sent shivers down the spines of the disciples. "Ying Zhan, child, I, Elder Su, would be honored to accept you as my personal disciple."
Ying Zhan's heart leaped. Elder Su was a legend, her name whispered with a mix of awe and fear. To be her disciple… It was a dream come true. She beamed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Elder Su, I would be honored!"
But her joy was short-lived. Elder Zhao, a man whose presence exuded the raw power of a mountain, scoffed. "Honored? That talent would be wasted on your… Yin Yang Cultivation , Su. The girl needs a solid foundation, something with *substance*. She needs my Mountain Giant Cultivation."
Elder Su's smile vanished, replaced by a flash of icy fury
. "Waste? You dare insult my cultivation, Zhao?" Her voice, though still soft, now held a dangerous edge. "My Yin Yang Cultivation has produced more geniuses than your… *brute force* approach ever will."
"Brute force?" Elder Zhao roared, his face turning a shade of crimson. "It's called *power*, Su. Something you wouldn't understand."
Before their argument could escalate, Elder Dong, a woman of mature beauty and an aura of quiet strength, intervened. "Enough, both of you. Ying Zhan, my Sky Piercing Cultivation offers a path to supreme mastery. I will guide you to become a pillar of this sect, a force to be reckoned with."
Elder Su scoffed. "Sky Piercing? Please. My Yin Yang Cultivation will make her a force of nature, a harmony of power and grace."
"Grace?" Elder Zhao sneered. "She needs the strength to crush her enemies, not dance around them."
The elders' voices rose, their arguments escalating into a cacophony of competing claims. Ying Zhan, caught in the crossfire, felt her excitement turn into a cold knot of anxiety. She was a prize, a battleground for their egos.
"Who… who do I choose?" she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. The pressure was suffocating, the weight of their expectations crushing her spirit.
The elders, oblivious to her distress, continued their heated debate.
"My Yin Yang Cultivation is the only path!"
"Mountain Giant, I tell you!"
"Sky Piercing will forge her into a legend!"
Just as the tension reached its peak, Sect Leader Yong, who had been observing the scene with a quiet intensity, rose from his seat. His presence, a wave of calm power, silenced the arguing elders.
"Enough," he commanded, his voice resonating through the auditorium. "Ying Zhan will be my personal disciple."
A stunned silence fell over the hall. The elders stared at him, their faces a mix of disbelief and resentment.
"Sect Leader?" Elder Zhao finally managed to sputter. "With all due respect, why?"
Sect Leader Yong's gaze was unwavering. "I will impart to her the Five Elemental Mobilization Cultivation, the legacy of our sect. She will be groomed to lead the Yīchì Yǔyù Sect in the future."
The elders exchanged bewildered glances. The Five Elemental Mobilization Cultivation was a closely guarded secret, a technique reserved for the sect's most promising heirs.
"But… Sect Leader," Elder Su protested, her voice laced with disappointment. "She could have reached such heights with my guidance."
"My Mountain Giant Cultivation would have made her a rock!" Elder Zhao added.
"Sky Piercing would have shown her true freedom!" Elder Dong finished.
Sect Leader Yong raised a hand, silencing them.
"My decision is final." He turned to Ying Zhan, his eyes gentle. "Ying Zhan, will you accept me as your master?"
Ying Zhan, her mind still reeling from the sudden turn of events, nodded eagerly. "Yes, Sect Leader! I accept!"
A wave of disappointment swept through the elders, their dreams of nurturing a prodigy dashed. The recruitment continued, but the atmosphere had shifted, the focus now on the unexpected decision of the Sect Leader.
The recruitment continued, a somber procession of dashed hopes and unfulfilled dreams. The Stone of Whispers, an impartial arbiter of destiny, revealed the harsh truth: the path of cultivation was not for everyone. The auditorium, once filled with nervous anticipation, now echoed with sighs of disappointment and hushed whispers of sympathy.
One after another, the aspirants stepped forward, their faces etched with a mix of hope and dread. Most left with nothing, their dreams extinguished like a candle in a storm.
A few managed to coax a single, faint sphere of light from the stone, a meager consolation prize in the grand scheme of cultivation. Even fewer achieved the modest glow of two spheres, their faces alight with a fleeting sense of accomplishment.
But the vast majority were met with the stone's cold silence, a stark reminder of their limitations. The elders, once animated with excitement, now wore expressions of weary resignation. The spectators, their initial enthusiasm dampened, watched with a detached, almost clinical interest.
Then, a young boy, Lin Yaodi, stepped forward. He was unremarkable, a wisp of a figure in plain, worn clothing. At fourteen, he possessed none of the swagger or bravado of his peers. His face, though devoid of any striking features, held a quiet intensity, a sense of unwavering resolve. He took a deep, steadying breath, his chest rising and falling with deliberate slowness, and placed his hand on the stone.
The auditorium held its breath. Nothing. No flicker, no glow, no whisper of power. The stone remained as cold and silent as a tomb. Lin Yaodi, his face impassive, withdrew his hand. There was no flicker of disappointment, no hint of despair in his eyes. He stood like a mountain, unmoving, unyielding.
Elder Tan sighed, his voice tinged with regret. "Lin Yaodi… no affinity. You are not suited for the path of cultivation."
Lin Yaodi nodded, his expression unchanged. He turned to leave, his footsteps measured and deliberate. But before he could take more than a few steps, a voice, rough and cold as steel, stopped him in his tracks.
"Hold."
The voice cut through the silence like a sharpened blade, sending a shiver down the spines of everyone in the auditorium. All eyes turned to the source: an elder, standing tall and imposing amidst the seated ranks.
He was a stark contrast to the serene elegance of the other elders. His face, a roadmap of scars and hard lines, spoke of countless battles and hard-won victories. He wore armor, not the flowing robes of a cultivator, but the sturdy, practical armor of a warrior. This was Elder Dun, Dun Buqiao, the Peak-master of Dream Of Cloud And Wind Peak.
Lin Yaodi, his eyes fixed on Elder Dun, felt a wave of awe wash over him. It was not the elder's physical presence that commanded respect, but the sheer force of his spirit, an indomitable will that seemed to bend the very air around him. He was not a man, but a mountain, an unbreakable fortress of resolve.
"Boy," Elder Dun's voice rumbled, echoing through the auditorium. "Do you wish to be my disciple?"
A collective gasp swept through the hall. The elders exchanged bewildered glances. Why would Elder Dun, a warrior of legendary prowess, choose a talentless boy as his disciple? He could have any of the one or two sphere disciples, yet he chose the one who had nothing.
"Dun Buqiao, are you mad?" Elder Zhao exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief. "He has no talent! You're wasting your time!"
Elder Su, her eyes narrowed, added, "There are others with at least a faint connection to the Dao. Why him?"
Elder Dong, her brow furrowed, suggested, "Perhaps you are being too hasty. Let us find you a worthy student."
Elder Dun, his eyes fixed on Lin Yaodi, remained unmoved. "My decision is final."
His gaze locked with Lin Yaodi's, a silent conversation passing between them. The world around them faded, the noise of the auditorium dissolving into a distant hum. Lin Yaodi felt as if he were standing before an insurmountable mountain, a force of nature that demanded respect.
"Yes," Lin Yaodi said, his voice firm and unwavering. "I will be your disciple."
A flicker of approval crossed Elder Dun's scarred face. "Good. You have spirit."
The other elders shook their heads, their expressions a mix of pity and disbelief. They saw a wasted opportunity, a foolish choice. But Lin Yaodi, standing before Elder Dun, felt a sense of purpose, a certainty that he had found his path.