Qinghe City was louder up close.
Not just noise—intent. Desire, impatience, greed, ambition. It clung to the air more heavily than spiritual energy ever could. Shen Yuan walked through the city gates without pause, his pace unhurried, his aura restrained to the point of seeming unremarkable.
To most people, he was just another lone cultivator.
To Shen Yuan, the city was layered.
He did not need to activate his Heavenly Discernment Eye consciously. It worked in the background, subtle and restrained, revealing only what he allowed himself to notice.
And what he noticed first was this:
So many broken foundations.
A group of outer disciples passed him, laughing loudly. Their auras flared brightly—but the brightness was brittle, uneven, like glass stretched too thin.
Overstimulated cultivation, Shen Yuan noted.Short-term pills. Long-term damage.
A merchant loudly advertised spirit pills at a street stall. The pills glowed attractively, but to Shen Yuan's perception, their inner structure was chaotic, filled with impurities masked by superficial refinement.
This would ruin someone quietly, he thought.
He moved on.
Near the central square, Shen Yuan stopped.
Not intentionally.
Something had caught his attention.
A boy—fourteen, maybe fifteen—stood at the edge of a crowd, clutching a small cloth bundle to his chest. His clothes were worn, his posture tense, his gaze fixed on the Azure Cloud Sect recruitment platform nearby.
To everyone else, the boy looked ordinary.
To Shen Yuan—
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
Interesting.
The boy's talent did not shine outward. In fact, it looked weak at first glance. But beneath that surface lay density—compressed potential wrapped tightly around itself, as if afraid to expand.
Not sealed.
Suppressed by circumstance.
Shen Yuan did not approach.
He watched.
The boy stepped forward when his turn came, placing his hand on the aptitude crystal. The light flickered uncertainly, then settled into a dull glow.
"Low-grade," the sect elder announced without interest. "Rejected."
The boy's shoulders stiffened.
He bowed deeply, too deeply, and stepped back without protest.
Shen Yuan felt a familiar stillness settle in his chest.
So this is how they lose people, he thought.Not by cruelty. By indifference.
"Potential individual detected," the Heavenly Sect Creation System noted quietly.
Shen Yuan did not answer.
He was already thinking.
He spent the rest of the day moving through Qinghe City—listening, observing, cataloging. He learned which sects controlled which resources, which families profited quietly, and which cultivators survived only by clinging to temporary alliances.
The pattern was consistent.
Most sects did not cultivate people.
They consumed them.
That evening, Shen Yuan returned to his inn.
He sat at the small wooden table, fingers resting loosely on its surface, gaze unfocused.
"System," he said at last.
"State inquiry."
"How many people like that boy are here?" Shen Yuan asked."Those with real potential—but no place to grow?"
There was a pause.
"Estimation: High."
Shen Yuan exhaled slowly.
"And how many will survive long enough to realize it?"
Another pause.
"Estimation: Low."
Silence followed.
Then Shen Yuan spoke again, voice even.
"If I accept a disciple," he said, "I won't take someone desperate."
"Clarify."
"I won't take someone because they were rejected," Shen Yuan continued."I'll take someone who chooses correct cultivation over fast cultivation—even when no one is watching."
"Criteria acknowledged."
Good.
"New Subtask Issued," the Heavenly Sect Creation System announced.
Shen Yuan focused.
"Subtask: Identify a candidate aligned with Heavenly Sect principles.""Conditions:""- Independent will.""- Stable Dao Heart.""- Willingness to rebuild foundation."
No deadline.
No pressure.
Shen Yuan approved.
Later that night, as lantern light flickered outside his window, Shen Yuan stood and looked down at the city streets below.
Somewhere out there, the boy was walking home—empty-handed, unnoticed, carrying disappointment like a familiar weight.
Shen Yuan did not go after him.
Not yet.
A sect founder did not recruit in haste.
He waited.
And when he finally acted, it would not be out of pity—but recognition.