Ten minutes of frantic running brought Zhao Yan to the central square—the heart of Cloud City, where the sects were recruiting their future disciples.
The square blazed with color and noise.
Children stood in lines, parents whispered in hope, elders observed with narrowed eyes. But the moment Zhao Yan stepped out from the alley, heads turned—not toward his face, but toward the filthy rags draped over his small frame.
Whispers trailed him like smoke.
Before him rose five raised platforms, each crowned with a fluttering banner.
Though the characters carved into them were foreign, he understood their meaning at a glance—as if the knowledge had been carved into his mind.
The first platform bore the mark of the Heavenly Sword Sect. It stood deserted, the banner swaying in the breeze—no disciples, no recruiters, no children waiting in line. They had already come and gone.
The second platform belonged to the Red Lotus Sect. A handful of young girls stood neatly behind a stern middle-aged woman with sharp brows and pale, flawless skin. Her eyes were cold, but her posture screamed pride.
The third, Misty Cloud Sect, was as lifeless as the first—completely empty.
The fourth platform drew every eye in the square. The banner read Frozen Heart Sect, and it was overflowing with children dressed in silks and brocades—sons and daughters of nobility.
Each one was striking, their youthful beauty magnified by their elegant clothing.
At the front stood the overseer, a woman with the bearing of an immortal: slim figure, porcelain features, and a beauty that seemed untouchable.
Even Zhao Yan felt his heart skip when his gaze lingered on her. She was the kind of woman mortals dared not approach, her presence alone colder than the sect's name.
The fifth and final platform bore the name Kunlun Sect. Here, the recruits looked nothing like the dazzling group across from them.
Some were plain, some ugly, most painfully average.
At their head lounged a fat man, slouched on his chair, his gaze darting shamelessly toward the Frozen Heart Sect's woman whenever he thought no one noticed.
Zhao Yan's eyes lingered on the platforms one by one as he muttered under his breath.
"The Red Lotus Sect seems to only recruit girls… the Frozen Heart Sect looks like it only accepts the wealthy. Those children draped in jewels are already staring at me with disdain."
His gaze shifted to the fifth platform.
The Kunlun Sect didn't look much different; the boys and girls there also wore sneers, their eyes filled with the same contempt. Yet, among them, Zhao Yan spotted a boy clad in rags no better than his own.
That single sight steadied him.
"Then… Kunlun Sect it is," he whispered, making up his mind.
He walked toward the platform, and his arrival quickly drew attention.
The fat man lounging lazily at the front raised his head, eyes narrowing—not in disgust like the others, but in a quiet, probing way.
Standing before him, Zhao Yan clasped his hands together, his small voice earnest.
"Immortal Master, I would like to join the Kunlun Sect."
The man blinked, caught off guard, before his eyes widened slightly. "What… did you just call me?"
Zhao Yan froze. His mind spun, trying to figure out what he had said wrong, but no answer came to him.
So, with some hesitation, he repeated, "Immortal Master."
The fat man suddenly burst into laughter. His round belly shook as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped closer, looming over Zhao Yan.
"Finally, someone with proper eyes who can recognize my greatness!"
Patting his own chest with pride, he nodded approvingly. "Good. Good! You—join the others."
Zhao Yan glanced toward the line of children. Their eyes widened, disbelief flashing across their faces. Some clicked their tongues in irritation, while others whispered insults under their breath.
To them, he was nothing more than a beggar trying to sneak into their ranks with flattery.
As Zhao Yan moved to stand with the others, still trying to make sense of what had just happened, one of the boys in rags suddenly broke from the group and rushed toward him. His face lit up in surprise.
"Zhao Yan, you're alive?!" the boy exclaimed.
"I saw a noble beat you to death and toss your body into the trash. I thought you were gone for sure… but it looks like you're fine!"
Zhao Yan froze. His mind went blank.
This was the first time since arriving in this strange world that someone had spoken to him directly—someone who knew the boy whose body he now occupied. Yet he himself had no memory of this ragged child.
"I… I was just lucky," Zhao Yan replied, his tone careful, his eyes shifting away to avoid meeting the boy's.
The other child seemed satisfied enough with that and fell silent, choosing to wait beside him as though nothing had happened.
The two stood quietly among the group, listening as the other children muttered among themselves.
"Did you see that beggar? He skipped the aptitude test and still got into Kunlun Sect."
"Hah, if I knew all it took was flattering that fat outer disciple, I wouldn't have wasted a gold coin on him."
"You only spent one? My father gave him five."
"Tch. What a joke."
Their laughter was laced with contempt, every word a dagger meant for Zhao Yan's ears.
"This beggar really knows how to flatter," one of them sneered.
Zhao Yan caught fragments of the children's conversations, but he brushed most of it aside—except for one word that clung to him like a thorn: aptitude.
'What is aptitude?' he asked silently, but the system remained cold and unresponsive.
The status window offered no hint, no flicker of change.
His attention shifted when movement rippled across the square.
On the second platform, the disciples of the Red Lotus Sect began arranging themselves in neat rows.
The woman in charge, sharp-browed yet strikingly beautiful, raised her hands in a practiced motion. From her palms, a lotus of red light bloomed, growing larger with every breath until it unfurled into a radiant flower that engulfed half the square.
One by one, the chosen girls stepped into its petals. The moment they were all inside, the woman herself rose gracefully, the lotus lifting into the air as if it carried the fragrance of heaven.
In a blink, they soared into the sky, leaving trails of shimmering light behind.
Gasps of awe filled the crowd. But the spectacle wasn't over.
The Frozen Heart Sect followed. From their platform, an enormous vessel carved of pure ice materialized, shimmering with frosted mist.
Children filed onto it, their silk robes gleaming under the sun. With a chilling gust, the boat glided upward and vanished among the clouds.
Excitement buzzed through the Kunlun Sect's recruits.
Every child turned toward their fat outer disciple with feverish anticipation, eyes shining with hope. Surely, they thought, he too would conjure something grand—some mystical transport worthy of a sect.
Instead, the man yawned, patted his round belly, and said casually, "Let's go, everyone."
The disappointment was immediate.
Murmurs of dismay rippled through the group, but no one dared complain outright.
The fat man stepped down from the platform and began walking through the crowd like an ordinary traveler.
One by one, the children followed, their hopes deflating with each step.
Zhao Yan was left at the very back.
The others jostled and shoved, making sure he had no place near the front.
He trailed behind them silently, his ragged clothes dragging in the dust, watching the dazzling sects vanish into the heavens while he trudged along on foot.