Xu Huo drew a deep breath, calming the sliver of mana he had painstakingly refined over the past five days.
He pressed his right palm steadily against the cold, slick surface.
In that instant, a frigid, intensely vital probe of energy bored into his arm from the point of contact.
It carried a rapacious hunger, lunging straight for his brain and every limb.
Xu Huo's body instinctively locked up, nearly releasing his mana at once.
'Hold still! It's scanning your Soul structure, gauging energy affinity—crude work. It's hunting for dao seed traces.
Its level's too low; it won't find me,' Charles warned, his voice turning grave.
Xu Huo understood. He sank his consciousness inward, mimicking the Soul signature of Azeroth's common 'Stone Skin' gift—stubborn, inert, as unresponsive to energy as bedrock.
At the same time he clamped down on his Soul's refinement and the terrifying Soul matter Charles carried.
Within the flesh pillar, sickly green fluid surged; veins bulged beneath Xu Huo's palm, light flashing violently.
The Black-clothed Deacon's vacant eyes flickered; he glanced sideways.
On the pillar's surface, a dull, rust-like ripple spread in slow circles from Xu Huo's hand.
Wherever it passed, the green glow dimmed, absorbed, turning darker.
The ripple reached six finger-widths, then halted, its colour almost gone.
Throughout, there was none of the brilliant light or spurting energy seen with other examinees.
The deacon stared at the nearly vanished ripple, frowning. He glanced at the chitinous tablet in his hand; squirming insect runes surfaced.
'Soul matter: Withered (Low Grade). dao seed affinity: Stone (Mid-Low). Potential: Fourth Rank.' His dry, hoarse voice rang out; beside Xu Huo's name in the register he scratched a crooked mark denoting middle assessment.
The Named Disciples who had finished their tests had nothing else to do; youthful Heart-Nature surfaced and they became an impromptu jury, muttering:
'Fourth Rank Daoist Magic? Passable.'
'Doesn't look like Sect material to me.'
Xu Huo felt nothing; calmly he withdrew his hand.
The testing continued. He moved to the crystal-clear martial column. No need for pretence—he pressed his left hand to the sinewy protrusions. A savage force rammed in, inspecting the bones and muscles of this scrawny, under-fed frame.
The column trembled faintly, a turbid grey-brown glow crawling two finger-widths.
'Bone structure: Heterogeneous (Low Grade). Potential: Third Rank.' The deacon didn't even lift his eyes.
The jury of youths were equally uninterested.
'Third Rank—lowest so far, right?'
'Not counting the unranked ones. Still, meh.'
Knowing exactly what he weighed, Xu Huo stepped to the final jet-black summoning pillar. The Cultivator beside it was a Fairy; her vermilion lips parted first: 'dao seed test begins—place your hand on the marked spot.'
Xu Huo's gaze sharpened; he'd guessed right—there was a summoning branch.
As a legendary Necromancer, he was no greenhorn like these onlookers. From the martial test alone he had read the gap between ranks.
He knew this body, back in the previous world of magic, topped out at low-tier knight Aptitude.
He'd seen legendary knights, counted many as friends and comrades.
His grasp of martial Dao was razor-sharp.
Earlier he'd spotted a future legendary knight who had only received a seventh-rank gift—showing how wide the gulf could be.
So he and Charles had agreed: in this eerie Sect, too flashy meant endless trouble, but too weak invited even worse. They chose the middle path.
He raised his hand onto the porous, pulsing column. A cold, spirit-tugging force stabbed in at once!
The pillar gave a low hum; the green fluid inside deepened and quickened.
Under his palm the light turned a dark, fathomless green.
A palm-sized patch stabilized, and at its centre a shifting shadow appeared, cold and sinister.
'Spirit Sense: Shadow Affinity (High Grade). Potential: Seventh Rank.' The Fairy's eyes lit; she carved the mark of the seventh rank with solemn care.
These Named Disciples were only children; once accustomed to the horror, excitement flared. Though unsure what the ranks meant, they knew brighter meant better, and chatter rose:
'Seventh-rank summoning? High Grade affinity!'
'Daoist Magic and martial both trash—he poured everything into summoning?'
'Shadow Affinity? Sounds evil, but seventh rank… lucky bastard.'
'Heh, only four of us so far.'
Combining the three results, Xu Huo stepped before a Cultivator in dark-gold Daoist robes.
The man smiled at the record: 'Named Disciple Xu Huo, overall talent rank fifteen. Well done.'
At that moment the Daoist Magic area exploded with roars of awe.
'Ninth Rank! Ultra resonance!'
'Look—'Pattern God' manifestation!'
'Gods, what monstrous talent!'
Every eye snapped toward the pillar where blue light erupted like a volcano, forming a lifelike, hideous giant mosquito poised to fly. A skinny boy became the sole focus.
'Spirit Sense: Pattern God Resonance (Ultra Grade). Potential: Ninth Rank.' The deacon's voice cracked with excitement.
Every gaze—those of even the cold deacons—burned with reverence. Ninth-rank potential, ultra-grade Spirit Sense—enough to shake the Sect's core.
Talk of Xu Huo's seventh rank died; eyes slid away. Against this Genius, his 'lopsided seventh' was drowned.
'Ninth Rank? Ultra resonance?' Charles murmured, avarice lacing his tone.
'Heh-heh-heh… what delicious Soul waves. This body, this 'vessel,' these so-called Geniuses—ever more amusing. Xu Huo, where shall we start tasting this new world?'
A lazy young voice suddenly cut in: 'Tch, shut it, old bones. Just some talent—look at you drool. We're One Soul, Three Purities—way stronger. Basically Dao ancestors.'
Charles started, delighted. 'Me from Blue Planet? No wonder those memories were patchy—I thought they'd been erased…'
Blue-Planet Xu Huo snorted. 'Old coot, wishing me gone? We clearly—'
'Silence!'
A voice devoid of feeling smothered every sound in the hall.
'All Named Disciples, testing complete.'
Those ranked, proceed to the Nurturing Dao Pods!'
The unranked, to the Servant Quarters.'