Before long, several streaks of light in different hues descended from the horizon—some blazing like fire, others light as drifting wind. As they landed, they revealed disciples of the Frostfall Sect, each accompanied by several boys and girls about Yun Che’s age.
The moment these newcomers set foot on the ground, every single one of them stood frozen, mouths agape, staring blankly at the cloud-shrouded peaks and radiant halls of the immortal mountain. Awe, longing, and unease were written plainly across their faces.
The guiding disciples gathered at a distance, conversing in low voices. From time to time, their gazes swept over the youths from the mortal world with calm scrutiny and a practiced indifference born of familiarity.
When the final sword-light descended, a total of forty-eight recommended youths had arrived.
The middle-aged cultivator in a dark robe—addressed earlier as Third Senior Brother—slowly scanned the crowd. His voice was clear, yet utterly without fluctuation.
“The Frostfall Sect accepts disciples based first and foremost on fate.
That you have arrived here through family recommendation is already an opportunity.
But the path of cultivation is long, and not everyone may tread it.
Today’s preliminary selection will leave only a few behind.”
The youths immediately held their breath. The atmosphere grew heavy.
Yun Che quietly clenched his fist, cold sweat seeping into his palm.
“The beginning of cultivation lies in sensing Void Spirit Qi and resonating with heaven and earth,”
the cultivator continued.
“This is a matter of innate foundation. It cannot be forced.
The first test will measure your Void Spirit Affinity.
When your name is called, step forward.”
He pointed casually at a richly dressed youth.
The boy’s legs trembled as he stepped up. The cultivator raised no artifact—he merely held his palm three inches above the boy’s head. After a moment, he shook his head slightly.
“Affinity is extremely weak—nearly nonexistent. Stand to the left.”
The boy’s face turned deathly pale as he stumbled toward the left side, his eyes hollow.
“Next.”
“Negligible affinity. Left.”
“Impure and chaotic. Left.”
The test proceeded swiftly. The cultivator’s flat voice pronounced judgment after judgment.
The space to his right remained completely empty.
Despair began to spread among the youths. Many faces had already gone ashen.
“Yun Han.”
Yun Han took a deep breath and stepped forward steadily.
When the cultivator tested him, clear approval appeared on his face for the first time.
“Clear and pure perception. Innate spiritual awareness.
Strong resonance with Ice and Origin Qi.
Very good. Stand to the right.”
A flash of expected confidence and pride flickered in Yun Han’s eyes. Under gazes filled with envy—and even jealousy—he walked calmly to the right, standing tall like a solitary landmark.
“Hmph. Just born luckier, that’s all.”
Yun Feng muttered under his breath beside Yun Che, though longing was unmistakable in his eyes.
Yun Che’s heartbeat quickened. The images of his parents standing at the village entrance and his third uncle’s parting words pressed heavily on his chest.
The testing continued.
Soon, a gentle girl in a pale yellow dress stepped forward. After testing her, the cultivator looked slightly surprised.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Dual affinity of Wood and Water. Not outstanding, but balanced and steady.
You may stand to the right as well.”
Joy colored the girl’s cheeks as she hurried to the right, standing a few steps away from Yun Han.
At last, the right side was no longer occupied by a single person.
Time passed. Most had been tested.
Yet only two stood on the right.
Hope grew increasingly faint.
“Yun Feng.”
The sharp-eyed, wiry boy jogged forward. Before the cultivator could act, Yun Feng suddenly dropped to his knees with a loud thud, knocking his head against the ground three times.
“Immortal Master’s power is boundless and your fortune immeasurable!
You’ve tested so many already—surely it’s exhausting.
Why not rest a bit first? I’m sturdy, I can wait!”
The cultivator froze, then burst into laughter.
Shaking his head, he tested Yun Feng and said,
“Affinity is acceptable, but scattered.
Mixed Metal and Fire, unstable foundation—hard to—”
Before he could finish, Yun Feng’s heart plunged. He hastily pulled out the bulky object he had been carrying all along—a grime-wrapped bundle of coarse cloth.
Holding it high, he shouted:
“Immortal Master, please see clearly!
This was found by my ancestors in a collapsed ancient cave—black, fireproof, unbreakable.
No idea what it is, but it feels… strange.
I brought it specially for you. Perhaps… perhaps you can make use of it?”
The cultivator was about to dismiss it, but his gaze paused.
“Hm?”
With a gesture, the bundle flew into his hand. He tore away the cloth, revealing a fist-sized block of dull metal etched with strange patterns.
A faint glow appeared on his fingertips as he brushed over the carvings.
The metal trembled slightly, emitting a deep, ancient hum. A fleeting trace of refined Metal Sharpness and Earth Weight Void Spirit Qi flashed and vanished.
“This…”
The cultivator examined it carefully, surprise evident.
“Though its spiritual energy is exhausted, this material is extraordinary.
These engravings resemble remnants of ancient Spirit-Sealing Runes.
Likely a core fragment of an old artifact or mechanism. Rare, to find this in the mortal world.”
After a moment’s thought, he smiled at Yun Feng.
“I oversee external affairs of the Refining Hall.
I’m in need of a quick-handed, sharp-eyed apprentice to manage materials and tend furnaces.
Are you willing?”
The turn of fate was instantaneous.
Yun Feng nearly leapt with joy, bowing repeatedly.
“Willing! Absolutely willing!
If you tell me east, I won’t dare go west!”
The cultivator nodded.
“You’ll serve as an apprentice in the Refining Hall.
You may also cultivate entry-level techniques—half an outer disciple.
Stand to the right.”
Yun Feng ran over gleefully, even shooting Yun Han a smug face. Yun Han snorted and looked away.
At this point, only a few remained untested.
The left side was packed with failures—sighs, gloom, and even quiet sobbing.
The cultivator’s brow furrowed.
“Those weak of will who cry and disturb the mind—no further testing.
Send them back immediately.”
Several Frostfall disciples stepped forward expressionlessly. With a flash of sword light, the crying youths vanished into the clouds.
Silence fell.
The cultivator’s gaze finally landed on the quiet youth standing at the edge of the crowd.
“Yun Che.”
Yun Che shuddered. He forced his leaden legs forward, his mind roaring blank.
Only his parents’ hopeful eyes and his third uncle’s words echoed within him:
Your eyes can see what others cannot.
I must stay.
The cultivator’s palm hovered above his head.
A gentle yet irresistible force flowed through his body, probing every inch—his limbs, bones, and meridians—before briefly converging near his lower abdomen.
Then it withdrew.
The cultivator lowered his hand.
“Unqualified.”
Three words.
Like three ice spikes driven straight into Yun Che’s heart.
The world lost all sound and color. He barely knew how he turned or how he dragged himself to the left.
Cold spread from his feet upward, freezing his blood.
When the testing ended, only three stood on the right.
Yun Han, the girl in yellow, and Yun Feng.
They stood bathed in attention, while dozens of gazes—envy, resentment, bitterness—burned into them.
Yun Han’s eyes pierced the crowd, landing precisely on Yun Che. A curl of open mockery and pity tugged at his lips.
“Though talent is the gate to cultivation,”
the cultivator announced,
“willpower is the foundation for walking far and steady.
Those without evident talent may still have a single thread of opportunity—
to become registered disciples.”
Hope flickered back to life.
“The second trial tests endurance.”
He pointed to the endless white jade staircase winding down from the clouds.
“Climb the Path of Inquiry.
Reach the mountain gate within three days, and you pass.
Fail—or surrender—and you will be escorted down.”
Turning to the three on the right, his tone softened.
“You three, come with me to meet the Sect Master and elders.”
With a sweep of his sleeve, they vanished into the mist.
Dozens remained at the mountain’s base.
Yun Che stared at the stairway reaching the heavens, then at the defeated faces around him.
He inhaled deeply of the cold, dense spiritual air.
When he opened his eyes again, the haze was gone—replaced by calm resolve.
Without a word, he stepped forward.
The first step onto the Path of Inquiry.
The others followed, each stepping onto their own diverging fate.
Yun Che lowered his head and climbed.
The stone steps were cold and hard.
At first, manageable.
He emptied his mind until only one thought remained:
Go up.
Do not stop.
Sweat slowly beaded on his brow.
No sudden blessing. No shortcut.
and a single name declared “Unqualified.”
But what decides how far you go has never been their labels.
It was meant for those who were denied, overlooked,
and yet refused to stop moving forward.
But from that moment on, he no longer belonged among the defeated.
or clenching your teeth on his behalf—
has only just begun.