Chapter 5:
Shizun
THE COLD, BEAUTIFUL GAZE of the sanctum-master shifted ever so slightly to meet Mo Tianliao’s eyes.
The sect leader smiled at Qingtong-zhenren. “Qingtong, what brings you out of seclusion?” he asked, in an exceedingly gentle tone. He might have sounded ingratiating if it hadn’t been for his natural expression.
Qingtong-zhenren turned his gaze toward the sect leader and looked past him at Xuanji-zhenren.
Xuanji-zhenren almost imperceptibly shrank back. “Uh… I picked a heaven-attribute disciple. Do you want him?”
Qingtong-zhenren glanced at the young man kneeling at the foot of Xuanji-zhenren’s seat, then turned back to Mo Tianliao.
“He’s the most handsome in this batch.” The sect leader smiled as he pointed at Mo Tianliao. “I was thinking of letting him follow Yanlie—”
“I’ll take him.” Qingtong-zhenren’s clear, melodious voice tinkled like the shattering of fine Mount Kunlun jade or the first cry of a baby phoenix.
The sect leader nodded without any hesitation.
No sooner had the words left his lips than a lustrous white-jade token was tossed before Mo Tianliao. Mo Tianliao picked it up. On the front, the character “Qing” was engraved, and on the back was an intricate pattern with an occasional flash of spiritual glow running through it. This was likely an access token that would allow him passage to areas protected by barriers and spell arrays.
Seeing this jade token, the sect leader—who had initially assumed Qingtong was here to accept a second-generation disciple for his current personal disciple—stiffened in surprise. “You’re taking him as a personal disciple?” Only disciples directly under his tutelage would receive this token. With it, Mo Tianliao could access most of the areas in Woqing Sanctum.
Even the usually expressionless Xuanji-zhenren’s eyes widened. Such things were not given lightly; even his newly recruited heaven-attribute disciple wouldn’t get one until he underwent a trial period and reached the foundation establishment stage.
“What?” Qingtong-zhenren glanced indifferently at the two of them. Tianlang and Xuanji promptly shut up and waved their hands, indicating they had no objections.
Mo Tianliao finally broke out of the spell that that enchanting voice held over him. Realizing what had happened, he quietly tucked the token into his sleeve. Apparently, after picking disciples based on spiritual attributes, they would choose based on looks. Those who were good-looking might even become a personal disciple. Mo Tianliao swallowed. He was seriously beginning to suspect that this sect practiced unmentionable secret cultivation techniques—maybe they even used their disciples as dual cultivation tools.
The selection concluded while he was still lost in wild speculation. Other than him, no one else was chosen based on their appearance. Mo Tianliao was, therefore, naturally at the receiving end of many jealous gazes. He stroked his chin. To think he, the mighty demon lord, had been reduced to getting by on his looks. Tragic indeed!
The ones who hadn’t been selected were led away by Chifeng and Chishan, while the chosen ones followed their masters back to their respective realms. Mo Tianliao happily followed his beautiful, brand-new shizun out of the grand hall.
Qingtong-zhenren was silent the whole way, so Mo Tianliao quietly followed behind him, taking care not to step on his long, flowing robes.
“Still haven’t established your foundation?” That clear, captivating voice rang out again as they stopped at the intersection of the arched bridge.
“Yes…” Mo Tianliao couldn’t understand why his master would ask such a question. As a newcomer, he shouldn’t even know how to absorb spiritual energy into his own body.
Qingtong cast a sidelong glance at him. His bright, glistening eyes clearly said “trash.”
Before Mo Tianliao could react, Qingtong-zhenren grabbed him by the collar and leaped, gliding in an instant across the bridge and over the towering cliff to land before the entrance to Woqing Sanctum.
The lofty main peak in the east had a stone gate about ten feet tall on the cliffside. There was no way someone with no cultivation could fly over.
As Mo Tianliao passed through the ordinary stone gate, he finally understood why the place was called the Blessed Realms. What lay beyond the entrance was not some deep, dark mountain cave, but a whole new realm entirely—a piece of heaven where blue sky stretched far and wide, where birds sang and flowers bloomed.
Here, there was yet another small mountain range, but unlike the steep cliffs outside, these were all low, rolling hills covered in lush vegetation and teeming with life. Qingning Palace, the residence of the sanctum-master, stood at its heart, nestled inside a bamboo forest. Several wooden houses, presumably the dwellings of the other disciples, dotted the surrounding hills.
Every disciple they encountered on the way bowed with their eyes lowered, and some even went as far as to kneel. Qingtong-zhenren completely ignored all of them and strode right into Qingning Palace’s grand hall.
Made from high-quality, sparkling black crystal, the grand hall was a beautiful sight to behold. Sunshine filtering through the translucent walls reflected off the black-and-gold floor, seeming to dance with each step they took, which made the spacious grand hall feel a bit less desolate. The hall had few furnishings, just a long plush couch in the center and a few cushions strewn around it.
With a light wave of his sleeves, Qingtong sat on the couch and looked up at Mo Tianliao. “You…”
Realizing his master still didn’t know his name, Mo Tianliao tactfully stepped forward and introduced himself. “Disciple Mo Tianliao pays his respects to Shizun.”
Few in Taixuan knew his real name, and most only knew him by his title, the Venerable Demon Lord Duantian. His current doubts aside, he counted himself lucky to get to cultivate under Qingtong-zhenren’s tutelage. It would cut down on his having to interact with many other people, and this sanctum-master with a high cultivation level would be able to give him a pointer or two, unlike the second-generation disciples whose understanding of the cultivation arts wasn’t even a fraction of his own. For that reason, Mo Tianliao didn’t want to deceive his master with a fake name.
Qingtong quietly watched him and made no move to tell him to get up.
After a moment, Mo Tianliao slowly lifted his head. “Shizun, about the discipleship initiation ceremony—” Different sects had different protocols, so he certainly couldn’t expect the same ceremonial rules here that he’d followed back when he’d taken that old sleazeball as his master. But he still didn’t know the etiquette of Woyun Sect.