The Illusion Heart Formation slowly dimmed, its ethereal glow receding back into the ancient runes etched upon the white jade plaza, like a tide pulling away from the shore. One by one, or in small, dazed groups, aspirants continued to emerge.
Their faces were a stark canvas of raw emotion: the bone-deep exhaustion of a battle fought within the mind, the luminous relief of survival, and the lingering, spectral disorientation of having wrestled with their own inner demons, deepest fears, and most potent desires. Some stumbled out with an air of quiet triumph, a clear, resilient light shining in their eyes, having decisively conquered the trial well within the allotted hour. Others emerged mere moments before the final deadline, their faces pale and etched with strain, looking shaken to their core but having, through sheer grit, persevered. And an unfortunate, somber few remained ensnared within as the hour mark irrevocably passed, their trial deemed a failure, their fervent hopes of joining the illustrious Tianshang Holy Land cruelly dashed at this final, pivotal hurdle.
Ye Fan, who had emerged first with an almost contemptuous ease (a feat entirely attributable to his master's timely and potent intervention), stood apart from the main group of successful candidates. He observed the stragglers with a cool, appraising detachment, his earlier display having already firmly cemented his image in the eyes of many as someone possessing not only a miraculously reawakened cultivation aptitude but also an exceptionally firm, almost unshakeable Dao Heart. Whispers, like dry leaves rustling in an autumn wind, followed him – a complex mixture of awe, burgeoning envy, and for those like Wang Que and Shen Yun who had also, against some odds, managed to pass (though taking considerably longer and looking significantly worse for wear, their faces haggard and their spirits visibly dampened), a grudging, fearful respect now tinged their previous disdain.
Finally, as the last of the successful (and unsuccessful) candidates were accounted for, the Outer Sect Elder who had been overseeing the rigorous trial stepped forward once more. His voice, when it boomed across the plaza, carried a note of undeniable fatigue, yet it still resonated with the inherent authority of his position.
"The second test, the trial of the Dao Heart, is now concluded!" he announced, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group of survivors, a group now noticeably thinned from its initial teeming thousands.
"Those of you who have successfully emerged from the crucible of the Illusion Heart Formation have unequivocally proven your mettle! You have demonstrated the will, the resilience, and the unwavering determination befitting a disciple of our revered Tianshang Holy Land!"
A wave of exuberant cheers, punctuated by heartfelt, shaky sighs of profound relief, swept through the ranks of the successful aspirants. They had made it. Against incredible odds, through grueling tests, they had earned their place!
"Proceed now, all of you, to the Outer Sect Reception Hall!" the Elder continued, his arm gesturing towards a grand, imposing edifice situated at the far edge of the main plaza, its architecture speaking of ancient strength and enduring tradition.
"There, you will receive your official disciple tokens, your initial monthly allotment of essential cultivation resources, and crucial instructions for selecting your foundational techniques from the Scripture Pavilion.
A fresh buzz of renewed, almost feverish excitement pulsed through the air. Disciple tokens – tangible proof of their new status! Monthly resources – the lifeblood of any cultivator! And most importantly, access to the sect's legendary techniques! This was the culmination of their arduous journeys, the true beginning of their new lives.
The successful aspirants, a crowd now numbering in the high hundreds rather than the initial overwhelming thousands, began to move in an orderly, if undeniably eager, procession towards the looming Reception Hall. Ye Fan, blending seamlessly into the moving group, maintained his carefully constructed humble facade, but inwardly, his mind was already a whirlwind of ambitious calculations. Resources… techniques… this is where my true, unstoppable ascent begins. This Holy Land will become my playground, its treasures my possessions.
The Reception Hall was a vast, high-ceilinged chamber, its stone walls adorned with intricate, age-old carvings depicting pivotal moments in the sect's glorious history and life-sized representations of its most legendary figures, their stone eyes seeming to watch over the new initiates with a silent, stern judgment. Several long, polished counters were manned by stern-faced Outer Sect Deacons and a few senior Outer Disciples, their expressions largely impassive, having witnessed this ceremony countless times. The air within hummed with a low, reverent murmur of anticipation and hushed conversations.
As each new disciple approached a counter, they stated their name, which was meticulously checked against a glowing scroll listing those who had successfully passed both trials. They were then handed a simple yet elegantly crafted wooden token. One side bore the intricate, soaring phoenix emblem of the Tianshang Holy Land, while the other was inscribed with their name and a unique identification number. This small token was their new identity, their proof of belonging.
Along with the token, each disciple received a small, modestly embroidered pouch.
"Within this pouch," a Deacon explained, his voice a monotone drone of oft-repeated instructions, "are your first month's essential resources: ten Low-Grade Spirit Stones to fuel your initial cultivation efforts, and three Qi Replenishing Pills of standard Mortal Grade quality to aid in your recovery during strenuous practice sessions. Subsequent monthly allotments of resources will be distributed based on your demonstrated progress, your contributions to the sect, and your performance in various assessments and tasks."
Ten spirit stones and three common pills – a truly meager amount by the standards of established cultivators or the scions of wealthy families, but for these new outer disciples, many of whom hailed from humble, resource-scarce backgrounds, it was a precious, almost sacred, start.
"Furthermore," the Deacon continued, his gaze sweeping with a practiced indifference over the eager, upturned faces, "each of you is hereby granted a one-time entry into the first floor of the Outer Sect Scripture Pavilion. There, you are permitted to select two techniques: one cultivation method to guide your gathering and refinement of spiritual energy, and one martial arts or spiritual arts technique for combat application or utility purposes. Choose with utmost wisdom, for these foundational techniques will significantly influence your early progress and development. The techniques available on the first floor are primarily of Mortal Grade, with a very limited, carefully curated selection of Low Spirit Grade arts accessible only to those who display truly exceptional promise in subsequent assessments or are willing to expend a significant amount of future contribution points."
The mere mention of the Scripture Pavilion, a place whispered about in awe by those outside the sect, sent another palpable wave of electric excitement through the ranks of the new disciples. This was their first real chance to obtain authentic, structured cultivation knowledge from a prestigious, top-tier Holy Land!
Ye Fan received his token and resource pouch, a fleeting, almost invisible flicker of disdain crossing his eyes at the pitifully small amount of resources provided, but he quickly, expertly, masked it. He wasn't particularly expecting to find any heaven-shattering arts on the first floor meant for Outer Disciples; such treasures were surely reserved for the inner echelons. However, his master had instilled in him the importance of choosing a solid foundation and had assured him that even seemingly basic choices could be optimized with proper guidance and insight. Any technique, when coupled with his reawakened strong aptitude and his master's ancient wisdom, could surely be made to shine far brighter than in the clumsy hands of ordinary fools. He trusted his master to guide him towards the most suitable, if not overtly spectacular, options available.
As the new disciples began to disperse from the Reception Hall, some heading towards the simple, newly assigned outer sect courtyards that would be their new homes, others making a direct, almost desperate, beeline for the fabled Scripture Pavilion, Su Chan, observing all of this with a calm, detached air from the Fairy Peak platform, felt a familiar, almost nostalgic stirring of memory. He recalled this exact point in the novel, this precise sequence of events, with crystal clarity.
His eyes narrowed slightly, a thoughtful, calculating glint appearing within their depths. The Scripture Pavilion… This is it. This is where Ye Fan stumbles upon his first significant movement technique, isn't it? A fragment, if I remember the details correctly, but a fragment of something truly exceptional, far beyond what an ordinary Outer Disciple should ever hope to encounter.
A cold, almost imperceptible, calculating glint entered Su Chan's eyes. He focused his intent, his consciousness dipping into the silent, private sanctuary of his mental diary.
[Diary Entry – Day 2, Afternoon]
[ The initial recruitment trials have finally concluded. The newly minted Outer Disciples, with our 'Son of Destiny,' Ye Fan, naturally among them, are now making their way to the Outer Sect Scripture Pavilion to select their first cultivation and martial arts techniques. This part, I recall vividly, is quite crucial for Ye Fan's early trajectory.
If my memory of the novel serves me correctly – and it has been disturbingly, almost eerily, accurate thus far in most respects – Ye Fan is about to have one of his classic 'fortuitous encounters' within the seemingly mundane confines of that very pavilion. He won't pick a standard, complete Mortal Grade technique like almost every other sensible Outer Disciple. Oh no, that would be too simple, too logical for our protagonist.
Instead, he'll somehow stumble upon a dusty, overlooked, almost forgotten scroll, perhaps tucked away in a shadowed, cobweb-laden corner of the first floor, a place no one else ever bothers to look. This scroll will contain a fragment of a Peak Earth Grade movement technique. This technique, even in its incomplete, fragmented state, will be leagues above anything else available to Outer Disciples, giving him an almost unfair advantage. What was its name again…? Ah, yes! 'Shadowless Steps' or something very similar, known for its incredibly fast, almost traceless movements, making the user exceptionally elusive in combat and adept at quick escapes. Armed with this 'Shadowless Steps,' Ye Fan will go on to win several early, key competitions and skirmishes among the Outer Disciples, further building his carefully constructed reputation as a 'resurgent genius making a miraculous comeback' and, more importantly, gaining him more resources, attention, and opportunities.
The luck of a protagonist is truly a wondrous, almost nauseating thing to behold. It's like the world itself is force-feeding him all sorts of good fortune, often disguised as coincidences or minor discoveries. I recall that when he first finds the 'Shadowless Steps' scroll in the novel, he initially dismisses it as indecipherable garbage due to its fragmented nature and archaic script. It's only when his ring grandpa, that convenient old ghost, examines it with his ancient knowledge that its true value as a Peak Earth Grade fragment, far superior to most complete Low Spirit Grade techniques, is revealed. Naturally, Ye Fan then selects it, along with some other seemingly ordinary cultivation method.
That opportunity… that Peak Earth Grade fragment… it was destined for Ye Fan. But destinies, I'm learning, can be… persuaded to take a detour.
The first floor of the Outer Sect Scripture Pavilion. As a True Disciple, I have unrestricted access to all floors, including the often-ignored first floor, though I rarely have reason to visit it. Perhaps it's time for a little… leisurely browsing amongst the basics. Ye Fan's precious 'Shadowless Steps' might just find a new, far more deserving owner today. And the thought of that, the thought of neatly snipping one of the early threads of his charmed life, is rather… appealing. It would certainly be a most satisfying first tangible blow against his ridiculously inflated Luck Value.
Time to pay an unexpected visit to the Outer Sect Scripture Pavilion. This should be… illuminating.]
Su Chan closed off his mental diary entry. A small, almost predatory smile, cold and sharp as a shard of ice, touched his lips. The game, he felt with a surge of grim anticipation, was truly, irrevocably, afoot. While Ye Fan was busy reveling in his successful entry into the Holy Land, his mind already soaring with visions of future conquests and grandeur, Su Chan was already moving with quiet, calculated precision to dismantle that grand future, one stolen opportunity, one carefully rerouted piece of destiny, at a time. The thought of snatching away one of Ye Fan's key early advantages, of turning his "fortune" into his own, filled Su Chan with a cold, thrilling, and deeply satisfying sense of purpose.