Chapter 18: The Dust Settles on Accepting a Disciple

Naturally, Ji Yao would never speak to a child like that. Instead, she put on a look of longing, her eyes bright with yearning. “But ever since I was little, I’ve loved the sword. I hope that one day, I can wander the world, sword in hand, just like a sword immortal!”

When she finished speaking, the little boy’s face remained unmoved, but the group from Lingyun Sect that Ji Yao belonged to instantly reacted as if a drop of water had fallen into boiling oil.

The young men clutching their swords widened their eyes, shooting her hostile looks, as though she had insulted the very essence of sword cultivation.

Their glaring eyes almost spelled it out: Who are you kidding? You don’t even bother to carry a sword for appearances’ sake—who would believe you truly love the sword? Are you perhaps a spy sent by Qingyang Sect?

Ji Yao wanted to spit in their faces. Who made the rule that loving the sword meant you had to carry one everywhere? And who decided that sword cultivators should cradle their swords day and night?

Hadn’t they seen those high-level sword cultivators whose swords were rarely visible? Most would keep their swords nurtured within their dantian, refining them as their life-bound treasures!

Fuming inwardly in her native dialect, Ji Yao nonetheless kept an expression of innocent composure, pretending not to notice the hostility around her.

She knew her reasoning was flawed, but she couldn’t help feeling frustrated. Poverty—poverty was the original sin!

Sword cultivators carried their swords to nurture the weapon’s spirit and their own attunement, striving toward the unity of sword and self. Without reaching the Golden Core stage, unable to refine life-bound treasures, lower-ranked sword cultivators would always keep their swords close.

She remembered meeting Ling Ru—who, even when on the brink of death, refused to part with her sword, remembering even in her final moments to carry it on her back.

In the end, those who had glared at Ji Yao backed down, turning away to wait silently in line once more.

After all, they were just children in their early teens. They couldn’t compete with someone like Ji Yao, who had nearly thirty years of accumulated shamelessness across two lifetimes.

Ji Yao lived by one creed: if she didn’t feel embarrassed, the awkwardness would always belong to someone else.

The final group for testing moved quickly, as those at the end were mostly children who had already begun cultivating. Regardless of their spiritual roots, they’d at least be accepted as outer disciples—the only difference being between outer disciples and menial servants.

As for those with single or dual spiritual roots, they would be taken directly to the sect, where the sect master, the peak lords, and the elders would select among them. Even if the top elders showed no interest, they would at least become inner disciples.

As expected, children with triple spiritual roots were made outer disciples, Ji Yao among them.

However, those with four or five spiritual roots could only start out as menial servants.

After all the testing, Ji Yao found some comfort. She had been worried about her spiritual roots, but the results showed that her gold spiritual root was dominant, with earth secondary, and fire the weakest. In terms of purity, both gold and earth were at eighty percent, while fire was only thirty percent.

Even so, with fire’s restraining effect on gold minimal, Ji Yao was quite satisfied.

The recruitment tests lasted for three full days. Though few remained by the last two days, there were always a few stragglers. The seven great sects upheld their traditions—when the third day ended, their accompanying elders each summoned their sect’s flying vessels and prepared to return home.

Before departure, the decks and rails of the flying ships were crowded with people. Although the five- and six-year-old children had already bid farewell to their parents, many couldn’t control their emotions and burst into wailing sobs.

At that age, most had not begun cultivating and couldn’t comprehend what entering the path of cultivation truly meant.

For ordinary families, this separation might be forever. If the child couldn’t reach a certain level, they might never leave the sect for the rest of their lives.

Even if they succeeded and were allowed to travel the world, Zhongzhou was tens of thousands of miles away—by the time they returned, everything might have changed.

Only those prodigious youths who reached the tenth level or the pinnacle of Qi Refinement within a decade or so could descend the mountain to temper themselves.

Otherwise, they would be confined within the sect, enduring the timeless years of the cultivation world.

Such prodigies, from the moment of entry, started their education on a different plane. Early on, they understood the divide between mortal and immortal, and were less attached to the affairs and ties of the mundane world.

As for disciples of the great sects, those at the lower levels of Qi Refinement rarely wandered outside. If they did, it was often for missions or to gain experience under the guidance of elders.

Anyone with a discerning eye could see that Ji Yao was a rootless rogue cultivator, with no background to speak of—even if no one said it aloud.

Fortunately, Ji Yao had not encountered any troublesome cultivators along the way. The only one she’d met, Daoist Yanhe, had been kind to her, and later, staying in the City Lord’s Mansion with Ling Ru was a stroke of luck.

In truth, Ji Yao’s move into the Northpeace City Lord’s Mansion, and her later journey to Guangqiong City with Ling Ru and the others, was all due to Ling Siyuan’s intention to shelter her.

Otherwise, with Ji Yao’s lack of backing, had she stayed somewhere teeming with cultivators, she might not have survived at all.

Even Ling Ru’s constant companionship was a form of protection, though Ji Yao herself remained blissfully unaware.

Did she truly not understand? In truth, Ji Yao sensed something, but her understanding of this world could never match that of native cultivators.

Still clinging to the worldview of her past life and feeling disheartened, Ji Yao wandered out alone to clear her mind.

This world had always harbored gray areas she had not yet encountered in her previous life before she died and was reborn in this place called the Realm of Myriads.

And this Realm of Myriads was a world of cultivation, where the ruthlessness of the path painted those gray areas in even starker relief.

Sitting on the deck, Ji Yao gazed around in wonder, marveling at the wonders of cultivation. How could she have foreseen what was to come? When those things happened, all she could do was face them with a wry smile.

The flying ship slowly rose into the sky. A shimmering barrier of light flared, drawing inward from three meters beyond the rails to envelop the entire vessel. In the instant it closed, the ship surged forward.

The sudden force startled shouts and cries from the deck. Even the weeping children forgot their sobs.

The bolder ones stretched out their hands to touch the light shield, delightedly pressing against the railings when they found they could not pass through, waving at the people below regardless of whether they could be seen.

The timid children clung tightly to the sleeves of those beside them, cautiously peering ahead, their eyes shining with irrepressible excitement.

Such was the nature of children. The older youths stood behind, maintaining a reserved air for fear of appearing provincial and being ridiculed.

As for the scions of noble families, they sat composed and aloof on the deck, occasionally glancing sidelong at the children crowding the rails, their eyes filled with the disdain of those regarding country bumpkins.

After the initial turbulence, the vessel steadily cut through the clouds, which billowed and parted in its wake. Then, as the ship sped on, the clouds gathered once more, suffused by the last rays of the setting sun, transforming into a breathtaking panorama—beauty beyond compare.