The vast arena of the Golden Sparrow Guild did not fall silent all at once.
It settled.
Like dust after a storm.
Voices faded in uneven waves, conversations cut short as attention shifted toward the central platform. One by one, heads turned. Shoulders straightened. Even those who had been whispering moments ago found themselves unconsciously holding their breath.
Because Elder Ji Han had stepped forward.
His robe trailed behind him in slow, deliberate motion, dark fabric brushing against pale stone like a shadow refusing to detach. There was nothing exaggerated in his movement—no flourish, no attempt to command attention.
And yet—
He did.
Effortlessly.
The old man stood at the heart of the arena, posture straight, presence unwavering. He did not tower over the crowd, nor did he release overwhelming waves of qi like lesser cultivators trying to assert dominance.
Instead, his authority existed in stillness.
In restraint.
Like a mountain that had no need to prove its weight.
Lu Mao's gaze fixed on him immediately.
Not out of reverence.
But recognition.
Control.
That was what defined the man before him.
Every movement measured. Every breath aligned. Even the subtle sway of his sleeves seemed intentional, as though nothing in his vicinity occurred without permission.
Then—
Ji Han raised his hand.
It was a small motion.
Barely noticeable.
But the effect—
Was immediate.
A ripple spread outward.
Not violent. Not overwhelming.
But precise.
It brushed across the arena like a cold breeze slipping beneath layers of clothing, touching skin, settling deeper. Candidates stiffened instinctively. Conversations died mid-sentence. The lingering hum of restless energy collapsed into silence.
Not forced.
Compelled.
A quiet message carried within that ripple:
This is not your space to disrupt.
Lu Mao exhaled slowly, feeling the faint pressure pass through him. It wasn't heavy. It didn't suppress him.
But it was… undeniable.
He didn't resist it.
He acknowledged it.
"The test of Qi is complete."
Ji Han's voice followed, calm and even, yet it carried farther than any shout could have. It cut through the air cleanly, leaving no room for doubt or distraction.
"Now begins the true trial."
The words lingered.
Not because they were loud—
But because they were absolute.
A subtle shift moved through the arena.
Candidates who had been relaxed moments ago adjusted their stances. Some clenched their fists unconsciously. Others swallowed, their earlier confidence dimming under the weight of what was to come.
Lu Mao felt it too.
Not fear.
Not uncertainty.
But focus.
A tightening at the center of his chest—not restrictive, but sharpening. His thoughts aligned, distractions falling away as his attention locked onto the moment.
"The trial that will decide," Ji Han continued, his gaze sweeping slowly across the crowd, "who among you is worthy to step into the Golden Sparrow Guild… as disciples."
That word—
Worthy.
It settled heavily.
Because it implied something simple.
Not everyone here would be.
The air thickened—not physically, but in presence. Hundreds of ambitions pressed against one another, unseen yet tangible.
Hope flickered in some eyes.
Doubt clouded others.
And in many—
Both warred silently.
"The Trial of Skill."
The name alone seemed to draw the atmosphere tighter.
Not visibly.
But enough.
Lu Mao's eyes narrowed slightly.
Skill.
Not strength.
Not talent.
Skill.
Ji Han let the silence stretch for a moment before continuing.
"There are five hundred and fifty-three of you."
No reaction came from him.
Only numbers.
"You will form groups of five. A total of one hundred and ten teams."
A slight movement of his sleeve followed.
The air beside him shimmered.
Light gathered, folding in on itself before expanding outward into a structured form.
A projection.
Sparrow City revealed itself in faint golden lines, hovering just above the ground. Streets branched outward like veins, alleys weaving between buildings, towers rising in uneven clusters.
It was not a perfect map.
But it was enough.
Lu Mao's gaze sharpened.
He studied it quickly.
Entrances.
Choke points.
Elevations.
Then—
Red lights ignited across the projection.
One.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Scattered across the city in irregular patterns.
Some burned brightly atop tall towers, exposed and obvious.
Others flickered faintly in narrow alleys, half-hidden within shadows.
A few pulsed slowly from within enclosed courtyards.
"The Red Fire Orbs."
Ji Han's voice remained steady.
"They are your objective."
The significance settled quickly.
Targets.
Limited.
Contested.
"There are only thirty."
A ripple moved through the crowd.
This time, it didn't stay contained.
Murmurs broke out.
Low at first—
Then growing.
"Thirty?"
"That's… barely anything…"
"How are we supposed to—"
"Each orb," Ji Han continued, cutting cleanly through the noise, "is guarded by one of our senior disciples."
This time—
The reaction hit harder.
"Senior disciples?!"
"Are they serious?"
"That's impossible—"
Fear crept in.
Not openly.
But undeniably.
Senior disciples were not equals.
They were not rivals.
They were… a wall.
Ji Han allowed the reaction to build for a moment.
Then—
"You may defeat them."
The words landed.
Heavy.
Unrealistic.
"…or you may take the orb from them."
A pause.
Subtle.
But deliberate.
"How you achieve this… is your choice."
Lu Mao's eyes didn't leave him.
There it was.
The real test.
Not combat.
Not directly.
Choice.
Judgment.
Adaptability.
"But only those who deliver an orb to me—here, at this ground—will pass."
The murmurs died again.
Not because they were silenced—
But because the reality had settled.
Five hundred and fifty-three candidates.
Thirty orbs.
Thirty teams.
That was all.
"If this seems unfair to you…"
Ji Han's tone did not change.
"You may leave."
No one moved.
Of course they didn't.
Because leaving meant something worse than failure.
It meant—
Admitting they didn't belong.
"The path of a cultivator," Ji Han added, "was never meant for those who seek fairness."
That ended it.
Whatever hesitation lingered—
Collapsed.
Lu Mao exhaled slowly.
As expected.
This wasn't a test designed to be passed by everyone.
It was designed to eliminate.
"You have thirty minutes to form your teams."
The stillness lasted only a heartbeat.
"For those who fail…"
A slight pause.
"…you are eliminated."
And then—
Chaos.
It erupted instantly.
Voices rose from every direction, overlapping, colliding, forming a chaotic symphony of urgency and desperation.
"Join me! Spear user—need support!"
"Three from Iron Wolf—two more!"
"Red Qi! Defensive type wanted!"
Candidates surged across the arena, movement replacing order. Groups formed in seconds, dissolved just as quickly, and reformed again.
Some shouted promises.
Others bargained.
A few lied without hesitation.
Lu Mao remained still.
Watching.
His gaze moved through the chaos with quiet precision.
Patterns formed.
Naturally.
High-Qi candidates gathered quickly, confidence drawing others toward them like gravity.
Those with weaker results hesitated, often pushed to the edges, scrambling to secure any position before time ran out.
Some tried to mask desperation.
Others didn't bother.
Predictable.
Beside him, Yan Mei adjusted her gloves.
A small motion.
Precise.
Controlled.
She hadn't moved either.
Her gaze swept the crowd once—calm, assessing—before turning toward him.
"I want to be in your group."
Simple.
Direct.
No hesitation.
Lu Mao blinked once.
Then smiled faintly.
"Of course."
There was no need to question it.
Her presence alone strengthened the team significantly.
But more than that—
She had chosen early.
Before the chaos could influence her decision.
That mattered.
Lu Mao's attention shifted back toward the crowd.
He was already considering the next members—
When—
"Can I join this fairy's team?!"
The voice cut through the noise like a misplaced note.
High.
Breathless.
Unapologetically loud.
Lu Mao turned.
A round boy approached, his robes stretched tight, a pouch at his waist jingling with every step he took.
He stopped before them, puffing his chest.
"I swear on the heavens, I won't disappoint you, my princess!"
Yan Mei froze.
Completely.
Lu Mao stared.
Then—
"Princess?" he repeated.
Barely holding his composure.
"I am Bao Fu!" the boy declared proudly, striking a dramatic pose. "Trap setter! Strategist! Genius!"
He patted his stomach.
"Do not be deceived by appearance! My mind is unmatched!"
Before Yan Mei could respond—
Another voice entered.
Dry.
Sharp.
"You couldn't trap a chicken."
Lu Mao glanced sideways.
A tall youth stepped forward, long black hair tied neatly, robes immaculate despite the chaos around him.
His expression carried a faint smile.
But his eyes—
Were sharp.
"Bao Fu," he continued, "you're only here because she has high Qi."
He gave a shallow bow toward Yan Mei.
"Allow me instead. I provide results."
"Chen Yuan!" Bao Fu snapped. "Stop following me!"
"You started it."
Their argument flowed naturally, almost practiced.
Lu Mao exhaled softly through his nose.
Yan Mei turned slightly, shoulders trembling—just enough to betray suppressed laughter.
Before it escalated—
Another presence approached.
Quiet.
Grounded.
A tall, broad-shouldered youth stepped forward, a sheathed blade resting across his back.
No flair.
No announcement.
"Can I join?"
His voice was calm.
"I'm Marco."
Lu Mao studied him.
There was no uncertainty in his stance.
No need to prove himself.
Just quiet confidence.
Lu Mao nodded.
Marco returned the gesture.
That was enough.
Bao Fu immediately puffed his chest again. "See? I'm in!"
"You begged," Chen Yuan muttered.
Yan Mei exhaled softly, regaining her composure.
"We have five."
Lu Mao's gaze moved across them.
Yan Mei.
Controlled. Precise.
Bao Fu.
Chaotic. Unpredictable.
Chen Yuan.
Sharp. Reactive.
Marco.
Steady.
Reliable.
An unusual mix.
Unbalanced—
But not weak.
Above them, the sun climbed higher, casting sharper light across the arena.
Then—
Ji Han's voice returned.
"Time's up."
Instant.
Absolute.
Those still searching froze.
Too late.
"Those without teams… are eliminated."
No resistance.
No argument.
Only acceptance.
"Prepare yourselves."
A pause.
"The gates will open."
The arena stilled again.
Different this time.
Tension coiled beneath the silence.
Waiting.
Ji Han raised his hand.
And this time—
Everyone felt it.
"The Trial of Skill…"
A breath.
"…begins now."
The gates opened.
Slow.
Heavy.
The sound rolled across the arena like distant thunder.
Beyond them—
Sparrow City waited.
A labyrinth of stone and shadow.
Unpredictable.
Alive.
Then—
Red lights ignited across it.
The orbs.
The moment broke.
Teams surged forward.
Movement exploded across the ground—figures sprinting, leaping, qi flaring into bursts of color.
Weapons appeared.
Energy surged.
The trial had begun.
Lu Mao didn't rush immediately.
He watched.
Just for a moment.
Patterns.
Movement.
Intent.
Then—
He stepped forward.
A faint smirk touched his lips.
"Looks like the hunt begins."
Yan Mei glanced at him, calm as ever.
"Let's make sure it ends with us."
Bao Fu cracked his knuckles dramatically.
Chen Yuan scoffed.
Marco adjusted his stance.
Lu Mao's gaze lifted toward the city ahead.
Sharp.
Focused.
Because this—
This was where everything changed.
"Let's see…"
His voice was quiet.
"…who survives Sparrow City."
The gates slammed shut behind them.
"And who doesn't."