PAST THE ROPE BRIDGE was another set of never-ending stone steps, and at the end of the stairs were three arched bridges which led to the main peaks. The group followed Yanlie onto the one in the center. The majestic bridge was built out of crystal, giving them a clear view of the birds flying far beneath them. At the end of the bridge towered an imposing grand hall inscribed with the name Woyun Palace. This was where Woyun Sect usually held meetings and hosted guests. The abode of Tianlang-zhenren—the sect leader—lay just behind it.
Outside the hall, second-generation disciples wearing a variety of different outfits bowed in unison when they saw Yanlie approach.
The hall was spacious and pillarless, and the polished floor was decorated with complex patterns that glowed with every step they took. In the center of the hall, a man in black-and-white wide-sleeved cultivator robes and a simple jade crown stood with his back to them, his hands clasped behind him.
Yanlie took the lead and bowed. “Greetings to the sect leader.”
The man slowly turned around, carrying himself with the air and poise of an immortal. He sported a long, distinguished beard, although he looked to be only in his thirties by mortal standards.
“You are all talents with superior aptitude, and it is our good fortune to have you with us,” Tianlang-zhenren said with an affable smile, quelling any lingering displeasure the newcomers still felt over their earlier fright.
Mo Tianliao kept his gaze lowered. Tianlang-zhenren’s cultivation was unfathomable, possibly even surpassing his own in his previous life. Better to keep a low profile and avoid rousing their suspicions.
After a few more words of courtesy from the sect leader, Yanlie took over and announced the sect rules and upcoming arrangements on his master’s behalf.
Most of the newcomers would be sent to the Blessed Sanctuary of a Thousand Sprouts to cultivate under the second-generation disciples there until they established their foundation. Then they would be assigned masters based on their aptitudes. However, there were exceptions. The three sanctum-masters and first-generation chief disciples were present today, and any newcomer that caught their eyes might be accepted as a personal disciple.
While all of them would be inner disciples, these personal disciples differed from the regular disciples who were selected later. Regular disciples were like students at a private school, where the teacher was responsible only for teaching lessons, while personal disciples were like apprentices who served at their masters’ sides year-round and were subjected to scoldings and even beatings. Of course, the benefits far outweighed the drawbacks, as personal disciples might occasionally receive special privileges such as extra guidance or even the opportunity to learn an exclusive technique.
When Yanlie had finished his explanation, three seats of honor suddenly rose in the center of the grand hall, each with a circular platform beneath it. Tianlang-zhenren sprang into the air and settled into the seat in the middle, while his five disciples stood at the bottom.
After a moment of silence, Tianlang-zhenren frowned. “Where’s Xuanji?”
Before he’d finished asking, a black streak of light shot across the horizon, and a man in a sky-blue robe arrived with a grand procession of a dozen disciples in tow.
Xuanji-zhenren was tall and thin, with a lean, handsome face and a cold gaze that made him seem rather unapproachable. He swept into the grand hall like a gust of wind and took his seat without looking at any of them. After a slight nod to the sect leader, he lowered his gaze and remained silent.
“Well then. Everyone take a look and see if anyone catches your eye.” Tianlang-zhenren smiled and motioned for the first-generation disciples to take their pick.
Mo Tianliao looked up at the empty seat to the east, wondering why the sect leader hadn’t waited for Qingtong-zhenren before they started.
The three seats looked similar, yet each was distinct in its own way. The sect leader’s seat was simple and dignified, while Xuanji-zhenren’s seat had a layer of black silk draped over it. Qingtong-zhenren’s seat, on the other hand, was covered with white silk woven by the merfolk, completed by sheer snow-white fabric hanging at the sides. With no one in the seat and no disciples standing beneath it, it looked quite lonesome.
The amiable sect leader seemed to sense what they were thinking. “Qingtong-zhenren spends most of his time in seclusion and rarely takes disciples,” he explained.
Mo Tianliao gazed silently at the empty seat. Qingtong-zhenren’s absence only piqued his curiosity further.
Soon, two single-attribute newcomers were chosen to serve under the first-generation disciples of Xuanji and the sect leader. Another, with a heaven attribute, was taken in as a disciple by Xuanji himself.
Mo Tianliao could hear one of the young men behind him whispering to another: “As a disciple under the direct tutelage of a sanctum-master, his status will be much higher than ours.”
After everyone had made their selection, the rest had to make their way to the Blessed Sanctuary of a Thousand Sprouts. As a dual-attribute newcomer, Mo Tianliao was naturally among the leftovers.
“Hold it!” Tianlang-zhenren called out to stop the group, looking meaningfully at Mo Tianliao. “You there, step out.”
Mo Tianliao’s heart skipped a beat, but he complied and stepped forward.
But before the sect leader could say anything, a sparkling white light streaked across from the east. A disciple outside the hall announced, “Qingtong-zhenren has arrived!”
The sect leader and Xuanji-zhenren both started in surprise, while all the Woyun Sect disciples lowered their heads and bowed before the man even entered.
A snow-white figure glided through the air and descended gracefully onto the seat in the east. Dressed in a pure white robe with an outer layer of shimmering, sheer white silk, he settled into position high above the crowd, his long sheer hem fluttering as it cascaded to the ground. A flick of his sleeve revealed a glimpse of his long, slender fingers, as fair as white jade. Just then, a slight breeze parted the sheer gauze curtain before his seat, revealing a handsome face so exquisite and flawless it left no room for critique. He was a sight so ethereal, like a frigid spring on snowy peaks; a visage most distinguished, standing aloft where no man could reach. Mo Tianliao had seen countless beauties in his previous life, but none could compare to the man before him now. And if even a steadfast demon lord could be so enthralled, these inexperienced newcomers stood no chance at all.
“Hmph!” A melodious huff suddenly echoed in their ears, so faint and hard to hear that it seemed to have drifted from some time long past.
The color promptly drained from the faces of everyone who’d had the audacity to gape at Qingtong-zhenren. They quickly lowered their heads, not daring to be impetuous.
Mo Tianliao, however, couldn’t tear his eyes away. In his previous life, he’d been drawn to beautiful things, both people and treasures alike, so those who’d wanted to ingratiate themselves with him had been constantly sending him all sorts of beauties. Not a single one of them could compare to even a fraction of the beauty of this person before him. It looked like he’d been right to use those women as fire-stokers after all!
✦ ✦ ✦
MINI EXTRA
A Day in the Life of the Demon Lord
Beauty A: I’m well-versed in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting.
Woodworker: You can go draw blueprints.
Beauty B: I have fair, slender hands.
Woodworker: You can go knead some clay.
Beauty C: I have high cultivation.
Woodworker: Oh, nice.
Beauty C: Should I serve as your dual cultivation vessel?
Woodworker: Nah, you can go stoke the fire.
Beauties: *speechless*
Woodworker: Pawpaw, let’s go sunbathing!