Days bled into weeks with the slow rhythm of mountain life.
For others, Clear Sky Sect was a crucible. Disciples rose at dawn, trained until dusk, fought in sparring courts, or meditated beneath ancient pines. Sweat, blood, and effort filled every corner of the sect.
For Xuan Yuan, life was… different.
He spent mornings strolling across cloud bridges, whistling at spirit cranes, or inspecting training grounds while making eccentric commentary. Afternoons were devoted to aimless naps by the pond, occasionally disturbed by Aunt Lan dragging him back inside. Evenings were for wandering into courtyards to sample sect food—when he wasn't being chased off by servant disciples guarding the kitchens.
Some whispered he was a prodigy concealing his brilliance. Others said he was just an eccentric exile wasting away on a deserted peak. Yuan encouraged both rumors equally—because both left him alone. But ironically, no one thought he was a trash who was seemingly exiled from family. Then again, there are no cliche young masters or mocking bullies, which is not bad at all.
The Codex pulsed faithfully each day. Rewards varied.
A yellow-grade talisman brush one day.
A jar of earth-grade body tempering paste the next.
Then a heaven-grade Clearfire Cauldron for alchemy.
Later, a low divine-grade talisman for sealing.
And even a beast taming jade whistle.
None of it drew him into cultivation. He stored it all away, chuckling to himself.
"Stockpiling treasures without effort. Truly, I am the embodiment of efficiency," he muttered while lying on his roof, watching clouds.
On 21st day, he received 100 days worth cultivation rising his realm to Initial stage of Golden core. With system instilling, not a trace of breath leaked out.
Yuan cracked an eye open, yawned, and muttered, "Golden Core? Already? Huh. Guess cultivation is just napping with cooler name."
The month passed quietly. Yuan stayed away from fights, avoided attention, avoided anything resembling seriousness. The sect, with all its grandeur, seemed to forget he was even there. Which was exactly how he liked it.
Until the day came.
The Codex pulsed louder than usual, a heavy chime echoing in his mind.
Ding! Special Event Detected. The Southern Secret Realm will open in three days.
System Mission: Host is recommended to participate. Rewards will be based on host's performance.
At the same time, bells tolled from Clear Sky Sect's central peak indicating a major announcement. Their sound rolled across mountains and valleys, solemn and powerful. Disciples stopped mid-practice, elders paused in meditation, even birds wheeling overhead turned as if listening.
Yuan tilted his head. "What, an event notification and background music? Nice touch."
Before he could check mission details, Aunt Lan arrived outside her cottage, her expression unreadable as the last bell echoed into silence.
"It is time," she said simply.
Her gaze sharpened. "The Southern Secret Realm."
At her words, Yuan stilled. He thought inwardly, "Don't we have 3 days more? or is the message from codex wrong?"
Codex remained silent. He would have to find out inside.
The Southern Secret Realm—known across the lands as one of the greatest tempering grounds of the South. Said to have formed when an ancient battlefield between immortals collapsed, leaving fragments of laws, scattered inheritances, and untold treasures buried within.
It opened once every ten years, accessible only for a short period before vanishing into mist again. Every sect and clan in the South sent disciples, not just for resources, but for prestige.
It's been tens of thousands of years since it's first appearance. It was scoured through many times and its riches had been plundered countless times. What remained were mostly spirit herbs and the occasional hidden treasure—rare enough to spark bloodshed, but far from the glory of the past. Other than those, the entire realm is swept cleaner than plate after delicious meal by predecessors.
There is only one criterion for eligibility for entrance: that is being under sixteen years of age.
Each sect had a limited quota, depending on their standing.
The Clear Sky Sect, as one of the South's top ten, received fifty slots. Already, the strongest of their younger disciples were sharpening their blades for it.
Yuan sighed, leaning back. "So, a deadly treasure hunt with children hopped up on spirit qi. Sounds fun. Like a school field trip, but with murder."
Aunt Lan gave him a sidelong glance. "Don't joke about it, brat," Aunt Lan said, her eyes narrowing though her voice softened at the edges. "This chance is what your parents entrusted to you. Don't waste it."
Her words made Yuan's lips twitch. Rebirth? If only she knew he was already several cheats ahead. And he is absolutely sure no one with his cultivation exists below 16 years, heck he doubted if there are any core formation stage prodigies in South at his age.
He popped another chestnut into his mouth and grinned faintly. "Alright Aunt, when are we leaving?"
"Tomorrow morning, with rest of the sect."
Secret Realm. Rebirth. Opportunity.
Everyone else would fight tooth and nail for such chances.
But Xuan Yuan already knew—his story was going to be different.
Yuan leaned back, chestnut in hand, eyes glinting with lazy confidence. "Tomorrow, huh? Fine. Let's see what this heaven defying oppourtunity is about."