1 001

The crisp autumn air filled the forest, cloaking the landscape in hues of gold—truly the season of harvest and transformation.

Today was the day the Azure Sword Sect accepted new disciples. From the mountain gate down to the foot of the mountain, a long line of hopefuls stretched out, bustling with anticipation.

Song Chitian had arrived at the sect before dawn and had been waiting in line for two hours. Only when the sun was high in the sky did she finally reach the Immortal Aptitude Testing Platform at the mountain gate.

It wasn’t that the Azure Sword Sect was slow in testing, but rather that the number of candidates was overwhelming.

For commoners aged fourteen and above within a vast radius, this was the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to completely change their destiny.

To be identified as having spiritual roots was to step one foot into the immortal path, a life-altering event. Even becoming a servant disciple of the Azure Sword Sect was a coveted first step for many. Mortal beings were undoubtedly the lowest rung in the cultivation world.

Therefore, whenever the sect accepted disciples, long lines would form at the gate.

But not everyone was granted the chance to change their fate. In fact, seventy to eighty percent were filtered out at this very first stage.

Among the ten candidates ahead of Song Chitian, seven were dismissed outright. These seven didn’t even have detectable spiritual roots.

“Mixed five-element spiritual roots, but useless. The root foundation in each is below fifty. Brother, please return,” the examiner dismissed the eighth candidate.

The Azure Sword Sect’s minimum standard for acceptance—even for servant disciples—was at least four elemental spiritual roots, with two of them having a root foundation above sixty.

“Four-element roots: Metal and Wood at sixty-five, Fire and Earth at fifty. Sister disciple, please enter through the west gate,” the examiner announced.

“Thank you, senior brother,” replied the blue-clad girl happily, accepting her token and proceeding through the west gate. Even this simple acceptance drew many envious glances.

Song Chitian felt a twinge of nervousness—not because she doubted her spiritual roots; she had tested them at home. Her roots were somewhat special, teetering on the line between inner and outer disciple qualifications. If luck favored her, especially if this year’s candidates with excellent roots were few, she might enter the inner sect.

Otherwise, she would most likely be relegated to the outer sect. The difference between inner and outer disciples was a chasm; resources heavily favored the inner sect, far beyond what outer disciples could hope for.

Song Chitian was gambling on luck.

That gamble was why she had traveled thousands of miles, forsaking the nearby Changyun Sect for the Azure Sword Sect.

Changyun Sect lacked training in the musical path, whereas the Azure Sword Sect was equally renowned for sword cultivation and musical cultivation. The musical path had a unique requirement: the best spiritual roots were Metal, Water, and Wood, with their root foundations not differing greatly.

But Song Chitian’s spiritual roots… their differences were anything but slight.

Just as she was growing anxious, two beams of light—one white, one black—suddenly shot up from the testing platform, piercing the sky. Then, a massive azure sword descended sharply, releasing a chilling sword aura that sent shivers down the spines of all present.

“Two elemental roots of Metal and Water at heavenly level! And the Azure Sword Illusion! A once-in-a-thousand-year prodigy!” exclaimed the examiner in awe, tinged with flattery.

“Please come this way, junior brother!”

The examiner hurried forward to escort the white-robed disciple toward the east gate.

Several Azure-robed officials seated at the eastern pavilion stood up upon seeing this, exchanging glances and nodding with smiles of satisfaction. The arrival of such a prodigy was truly gratifying.

This was the ninth candidate ahead of Song Chitian. Like her, he had queued since early morning, remaining silent and composed, never looking around. His quietness was striking, and beneath his refined appearance lay a faint melancholy.

Even from behind, his distinguished presence was unmistakable. After about an hour, he glanced back briefly.

Song Chitian then understood why the girls ahead had been shyly glancing his way. His jet-black hair shimmered like silk, his lips red and nose straight—he was extraordinarily handsome. Rarely did such noble elegance come paired with such cold, pond-like eyes, which instantly chilled his striking visage.

Song Chitian was certain: this brooding, handsome youth must have a remarkable background—a fallen noble scion, perhaps.

She quietly designated him a protagonist in her mind.

Yet, only the test results could confirm his fate. With such outstanding roots, it was certain this young man’s destiny was exceptional.

Of course, this had nothing to do with her. When the examiner returned, Song Chitian smiled and respectfully cupped her hands forward.

She then drew a dagger, pricked her finger, and let her blood drip onto the multi-colored jade testing stone. Soon, three towering beams of light rose.

“Three elemental roots of Metal, Water, and Wood—all at seventy-seven. This…” the examiner looked at her with a hint of regret.

Song Chitian smiled with pleading eyes but said nothing.

Her gentle, crescent-shaped smile was especially charming, winning favor from anyone who saw it—something she knew well.

The Azure-robed examiner, seemingly kind-hearted, smiled back and stood to consult the eastern official about how to proceed.

“Three roots of Metal, Water, and Wood, all at seventy-seven—neither good nor bad. But all fall just short of the eighty-point threshold. Official Sun, what shall we do?”

According to Azure Sword Sect’s rules, to qualify as an inner disciple, a three-root candidate must have at least one root above eighty and the others not below seventy.

This was the very reason Song Chitian was gambling so heavily.

Official Sun glanced at the testing stone, then at the fourth queue.

There stood a white-robed girl, respectfully facing him. Her soft hair was neatly tied, her posture slender and graceful, dressed in spotless white. Her pale face glowed softly, and her eyes curved like crescent moons. She appeared intelligent but nervous, her small hands clenched at her sides.

Sun knew this moment was pivotal in determining the girl’s destiny.

Although many three-root candidates with excellent aptitude had appeared today, by rights this girl’s roots should not qualify her for the inner sect. Yet her demeanor stirred a hint of sympathy in him, prompting him to ask,

“Are you proficient in music?”

Song Chitian quickly replied respectfully, “Master Immortal, I have practiced music since the age of four, with some familiarity with the guzheng and pipa. My pipa skills are somewhat better.”

Sun smiled at her use of “Master Immortal,” a sign of intelligence and respect in acknowledging a teacher.

He then said to Zhuo Yu, “In that case, admit her to the inner sect.”

The white-robed girl immediately brightened and bowed deeply, “Thank you, Master Immortal, for your kindness.”

When Zhuo Yu returned and handed her the inner disciple token, she fixed her gaze intently on the badge, likely to remember his name.

“Thank you, Senior Brother Zhuo.”

Zhuo Yu smiled—this girl was grateful. Had he not spoken to the officials, she would not have earned inner sect admission.

Song Chitian accepted her token and, upon leaving, bowed again to Senior Brother Zhuo. She then cheerfully bowed deeply to Officials Sun and the others before proceeding through the east gate.

The officials exchanged smiles at her radiant joy. She was clever and likeable. However, given her aptitude, even as an inner disciple, she would likely remain at the bottom of the ranks. Without a root foundation of eighty, she lacked the spiritual core needed for easier cultivation. The path ahead would be challenging.

Still, her pure and pleasant demeanor softened their hearts, so they let her pass.

Song Chitian waited until she crossed the east gate before exhaling quietly. Only gifted and inner disciples were permitted here; outer disciples entered through the west gate. The central gate remained closed except for major sect affairs.

Inside the east gate, not far ahead stood a conference pavilion. Two young immortal masters in white robes chatted with smiles beneath the corridor. Several inner disciples in light gray robes awaited to escort the new recruits.

Unfortunately, Song Chitian arrived just as twelve newcomers were divided into two groups and led away by the gray-robed inner disciples.

They rode atop two enormous spiritual turtles, disappearing from sight.

Apparently, they had to wait for the next group to assemble before departing.

The sun blazed overhead, but Song Chitian wasn’t in a hurry. She glanced around and moved toward the shade of a nearby tree.

There, just a few steps from the gate, stood the white-robed youth—her earlier companion, the peerless sword prodigy—cool and aloof.

He, too, seemed to be waiting for the next group.

This surprised Song Chitian. She had expected such a prodigy to be whisked away by sect disciples alone, accorded special treatment befitting his talent.

Could it be that the Azure Sword Sect truly valued equality among all?

From what she had gathered, while the sect was indeed more harmonious, it remained a world of rigid hierarchies. The gulf between prodigies and ordinary inner disciples was vast.

She couldn’t explain the reason for this unusual circumstance.

Although unaware of the details, Song Chitian gave Mo Feiyun—a name she had glimpsed in Senior Brother Zhuo’s register—a slight nod and smile.

That name alone marked him as a protagonist. After all, with the surname Mo and the melodious name Feiyun, he was destined for importance.

Song Chitian worried about entering a story in progress, searching her memory for any novel featuring a Mo Feiyun as protagonist or secondary male lead. Despite reading countless cultivation tales, none came to mind.

As for herself, if she were a character in a story, she was certainly a minor one. Since her transmigration fourteen years ago, she had lived quietly without a single chance at protagonist-level fate or treasure. Though she searched every corner of her home and the nearby hills, the heavens had bestowed her no fortune.

Her spiritual roots were middling three-element ones; her appearance average—much like her former life’s face—and she bore the same name (which she took as proof of her transmigration).

Her family, the Song clan, were modest wealthy merchants. Her great-grandfather had been a foundation-establishing cultivator specializing in alchemy, albeit mediocre. Yet he possessed secret recipes for perfumery and cosmetics, enabling their family business to thrive moderately. They also held ties to an outer elder of the Changyun Sect, though most profits went to Elder Pan, leaving the family only a fraction.

Fortunately, the family was small: grandfather, uncle and aunt, cousin Song Yun, her parents, and herself. Her grandfather was the highest in cultivation but only at Qi Refinement’s ninth layer, never reaching foundation establishment. He had once infiltrated the outer gate of Changyun Sect with mediocre three-root aptitude.

Her uncle, father, aunt, and mother all possessed four-element roots but had barely reached the sixth layer of Qi Refinement, capable only of wind riding.

Her cousin Song Yun was also a three-root candidate, with worse aptitude than Song Chitian—two roots below seventy, one barely at seventy-two—and currently an outer disciple at Changyun Sect.

When Song Chitian’s spiritual roots were tested at four years old, her grandfather and father wept with joy, hastily offering incense to their ancestors, praying for blessings.

At long last, the family might produce a foundation-establishing disciple.

Even at outer gate level, her aptitude promised foundation establishment, securing the family’s modest business.

Otherwise, despite their ties to the outer elder of Changyun Sect, their small fortune would be eaten away.

The family had planned to send a generous gift to help her enter the inner gate of Changyun Sect.

However, recent years had seen many exceptional young disciples emerge there. Her middling roots meant even gifts might not guarantee inner gate admission.

So the family bit the bullet, accepting even outer gate entry. After all, they had some connections there.

It was Song Chitian herself who insisted on trying her luck at the Azure Sword Sect. The reason was simple: her balanced spiritual roots suited the musical path perfectly, and in her past life, she had studied music reasonably well.

According to her parents’ whispered rejoicing, “This child comprehends music instantly; she is destined for the musical path. Perhaps her aptitude will be extraordinary, enabling her to achieve Golden Core. If so, truly the ancestors have blessed us.”

Song Chitian smiled inwardly—instant comprehension? After more than twenty years of music study in her past life, if she didn’t understand quickly, she might as well have wasted her time.

At least, she had placed her bet correctly!

Her parents, accompanying her to apprentice, were now waiting in the city of Baijiang at the mountain’s foot for news. Song Chitian planned to settle into the inner gate dormitory and immediately send word to them through the sect’s messenger.

If her parents learned she had entered the inner sect, those two poor souls would surely cry tears of joy and return home to offer incense, praising ancestor blessings.

Seeing her nod and smile, Mo Feiyun returned the gesture, then glanced at her jade token—the symbol of inner disciple status.

Song Chitian couldn’t help but smile warmly at the token.

Mo Feiyun’s eyes lingered on her a moment longer; the corner of his mouth twitched slightly, as if to smile, yet also not.