Chapter 193: Qingyun Sect Examination (Part 3)
The Outer Court Disciple escorted the trio with the careful pace of someone walking a tightrope—every step deliberate, every breath measured, as though a single misstep would be his last.
"Where exactly are you leading us?" Su Tianhao asked, eyes narrowing.
He had expected to be guided into the Qingyun Peak—toward the wonders, the buildings, the life he had glimpsed from the gates. Instead, the disciple was leading them away from all of it. Away from the terraced levels and the mist-threaded courtyards, down a wide stone path toward an old bridge with nothing remarkable about it except its size. It could have held fifty men walking abreast. But most of it was swallowed by mist—thick enough to cut visibility to three metres—making it impossible to see where it led.
The disciple panicked, afraid he'd been misunderstood, and hurried to explain.
"Young Master—" he said, pointing at the bridge, "that is the Ashenveil Bridge. The only bridge leading to the waiting ground, which belongs to the Ashenveil Peak."
"Ashenveil Peak?" Su Tianhao's brows drew together. "What's that?"
Before the disciple could answer, Elder Xuan's voice cut through, and the words died in the young man's throat.
"The Qingyun Sect is not as it seems, Tianhao. It doesn't merely own this single peak—it claims all the mountains within the surrounding Mistveil Mountain Range."
"What?!"
Su Tianhao's voice came out louder than intended. His eyes widened. "How is that possible? The Mistveil Range consists of hundreds of colossal peaks. There's no way one sect can manage all of them."
"You're right—they can't," Elder Xuan said, stroking his beard. "So they claim only the mountains with the highest spiritual energy concentration. And it just so happens that the peaks surrounding this very one have the greatest Qi concentration in the entire Mistveil Range."
"No wonder the spiritual energy here is so dense," Su Tianhao murmured.
Elder Xuan smiled and turned to the disciple. "Lead the way."
The disciple nodded and resumed walking—head lowered, not daring to look up. They stepped onto the Ashenveil Bridge, and the shift was immediate. The Qi density dropped noticeably, like stepping from warm water into cool air.
Su Tianhao caught the change at once. So did Wang Bing. She beat him to the question.
"Uncle Xuan... what just happened?"
"We've left the Qingyun Peak's territory," Elder Xuan said with a knowing smile. "Or nearly. We'll cross its boundary completely once we pass through that mist." He gestured toward the thick curtain of white three metres ahead.
"But the terrain hasn't changed at all," Wang Bing said, frowning. "It feels like we're still on the same mountain."
"Exactly." Elder Xuan's smile deepened. "That's what three thousand years of deliberate terraforming achieves. The various peaks that make up the Qingyun Sect have been reshaped so thoroughly over the centuries that they feel like a single unified whole—an entire civilisation built across a mountain range, stitched together so seamlessly you can't see the seams."
"How many peaks are there in total?" Su Tianhao asked.
"Seven," Elder Xuan said, as they continued forward, his voice unhurried.
"The first—and the heart of everything—is the Qingyun Peak. The foundation of the sect. Where legends are born and heroes are made. Every youngster with real promise begins there, carrying their ambitions up those stone steps."
He paused, glancing at both of them. They were listening with undisguised attention.
"But the Qingyun Peak as you know it is itself made up of two distinct peaks. The Silverblade Peak, which takes in disciples who walk the path of weapon mastery. And the Jadeclaw Peak, which takes in disciples who pursue hand-to-hand combat, palm arts, claw techniques, and complete energy-based attacks."
"And the third peak is where we're headed now," he said, as they stepped through the mist.
The moment they crossed, the change became impossible to ignore. The mist dissolved around them like a curtain pulled aside, and a hundred other figures came into view—all walking the same path, all heading in the same direction.
"Welcome to the Ashenveil Peak," Elder Xuan said.
---
The difference between the Ashenveil Peak and the Qingyun Peak was like heaven and earth.
Where the Qingyun Peak felt like a cultivator's paradise—refined, alive, breathing with centuries of accumulated power—the Ashenveil Peak felt like the world before any of that had been earned.
The terrain here was rough. Unpolished. The mountain's natural face had been cleared but not sculpted—stone pathways wound between sparse clusters of wooden buildings that looked built for function rather than impression. No spirit herbs lined the edges of the roads. No waterfalls sparkled between terraced levels. The spiritual energy was noticeably thinner, present enough to cultivate but carrying none of the density or refinement that the Qingyun Peak radiated.
Training grounds dominated the landscape—wide, flat, cleared stretches of bare stone and packed earth marked with the wear of countless hours of practice. Simple wooden targets stood in rows. Sparring circles had been worn into the ground by feet, over years. The buildings were barracks, mess halls, equipment stores. Functional. Honest.
It looked less like a sect and more like a military encampment built on a mountain—and in many ways, that was exactly what it was. A place where the unproven waited, trained, and either found what they needed to rise—or didn't.
Wang Bing stopped walking.
"What is this?" she said sharply, her eyes narrowing with suspicion as she turned to the disciple.
He flinched. "This is the trail ground, it's were the waiting ground is located. Only those who prove themselves worthy during the examination can enter the Outer Court and choose between its two peaks. Those who fall short may go home—or, if deemed worthy, remain here as servant disciples, training until they can prove themselves capable of entering the Outer Court."
'So the Qingyun Peak is the Outer Court,' Su Tianhao noted inwardly. 'Qingyun must be the general name most people use—since most never make it past the Ashenveil Peak.'
"I understand," Wang Bing said softly, glancing at the disciple. "Sorry for lashing out earlier."
"A-Ah—no problem at all, miss—ah, fairy!" The disciple fumbled through his words, earning an amused chuckle from Wang Bing.
Su Tianhao turned to Elder Xuan. "You mentioned seven peaks. What about the other four?"
Elder Xuan smirked. "You'll find out once you join the sect. You already know more than most of your peers—that's hardly fair."
The disciple nodded instinctively, as if personally agreeing.
"Don't mind this old geezer, Brother Tianhao," Wang Bing said, stepping over and looping her arm through his with the ease of someone who hadn't thought twice about it.
Su Tianhao glanced at her with a flicker of something in his eyes—not quite sternness, but close. She hadn't even registered what she'd done. He shrugged it off. He didn't particularly care what others thought.
With her arm still through his, Wang Bing pointed ahead. "There—that must be the waiting ground. I can already see people."
Sure enough, a few dozen metres away, hundreds of figures filled a wide open space, with more still flowing in behind them.
"Let's go!" Wang Bing said, pulling him forward with the energy of someone heading to a festival rather than one of the most consequential examinations of her life.
---
The disciple stood rooted to the spot, unsure whether to follow or flee in the opposite direction.
Before he could decide, a hand landed on his shoulder—firm, heavy, pressing down like the weight of a collapsing sky.
"Erk!"
He shrieked like a startled cat, every hair on his body standing upright. He turned sharply—and his heart sank.
Elder Xuan looked down at him with a warm smile.
To the disciple, that smile was the grin of something ancient and terrifying wearing a friendly face.
"P-please, I—" his voice trembled.
"You can leave."
He blinked. "I... can go?"
"You can leave," Elder Xuan confirmed, nodding pleasantly.
Bam!
The disciple dropped to the stone floor and kowtowed with the frantic devotion of a man who had narrowly escaped execution, tears streaming freely.
"Thank you, Esteemed Elder! Thank you, benevolent one! This lowly one will be forever grateful!"
"Yes, yes. Get out of my sight," Elder Xuan said, waving a hand.
A beat of silence.
"...Before I change my mind."
"Ah! Yes!"
The disciple scrambled upright—his forehead now swollen and smeared with dirt, yet completely unbothered by either—offered one final frantic bow, and fled with every last bit of speed his cultivation could provide.
Elder Xuan watched him go with quiet amusement.
When the figure had disappeared entirely, he shook his head slowly.
"It's not his fault," he murmured. "Most young men can't resist Bing'er's charms."
His thoughts drifted to Su Tianhao.
"That one, though... somehow it doesn't affect him at all."
His expression shifted—something harder settling behind his eyes as he recalled the young woman from earlier. Watching from the clouds. Watching specifically.
'Who is she? I've seen that face before,' he thought.
He glanced toward the gathering ground where Su Tianhao and Wang Bing had already disappeared into the crowd.
"I need to find out before I go back to them."
Without another word, he launched himself into the sky—a single burst of speed that rattled the stones beneath him and sent debris scattering outward. Then a second burst, sharper and faster, that carried him upward like a meteor in reverse until he emerged just beyond the Qingyun Sect gates.
His eyes found her immediately.
Now that he was level with her, the clouds could no longer conceal anything. She was strikingly beautiful—flawless jade-like skin, delicate features, long black hair framing her face with quiet precision. Crystalline blue eyes that didn't widen when he appeared beside her, didn't soften, didn't offer the usual polite deference most would show a Martial Grandmaster.
"You—" Elder Xuan's eyes narrowed. "Aren't you the Jade Sword Lord's precious daughter?"
"It's Lu Ruyi," she said, frowning slightly.
He ignored her, turning instead to the eagle she sat upon—massive, its wingspan spanning nearly five metres, emerald feathers shimmering like polished jade in the light. Sharp ivory beak. Eyes that held an intelligence far beyond what a beast ought to carry.
"You must be Qiongqi," Elder Xuan said. "The Jade Winged Eagle."
Qiongqi raised her head with unmistakable pride, ivory beak catching the sunlight.
Elder Xuan's eyes lit up. "I heard your Master allowed you to take one of her pets as a companion. I never quite believed it until now."
Lu Ruyi's eyes narrowed. Her hand moved—subtle but deliberate—toward the sword at her waist.
Elder Xuan caught the gesture and smiled. He straightened, allowing the full weight of his bearing to settle back into place.
"Forgive me for not introducing myself properly. I am Wang Xuan, First Elder of the Wang Mansion. You may call me Elder Xuan."
Lu Ruyi relaxed slightly. "So it's Elder Xuan." She offered a subtle bow. "Nice to meet you."
He returned the smile—then let it shift, his expression growing more measured, more curious.
"If I may ask—what brings you here? The Qingyun Sect examination is hardly a spectacle worth the Jade Sword Lord's disciple making a personal appearance. Even if the Lianhua Sect had reason to observe it, they wouldn't send you."
"The examination?" Lu Ruyi said flatly. "I don't care about the examination."
"Then why are you here?"
"I'm here for him."
Her gaze cut through the crowd below with the precision of a blade finding its mark—landing on Su Tianhao and Wang Bing standing side by side. Wang Bing had just noticed their hands were still linked. Her face flushed crimson as she pulled away and retreated a step, not daring to meet his eyes.
Lu Ruyi's eyes narrowed slightly—not with judgment, but with quiet interest.
Elder Xuan's voice drew her back. "Him," he said slowly. "You mean Tianhao?"
Lu Ruyi nodded, not bothering to look at him.
"What's your relationship with him?" he asked—carefully now, reading every subtle shift in her expression.
Lu Ruyi's lips curved.
"He's my friend."
The answer came without hesitation, almost immediately.
Elder Xuan's brows drew together. 'She means it. And the speed of that answer — they genuinely know each other.' He felt the beginnings of a headache forming. 'Looks like Wang Bing has acquired herself a rival without knowing it.'
He knew Lu Ruyi's reputation. The Lotus Sword Fairy had almost no friends—her only companions were her Senior Sister, Mei Yuelan's first disciple, and her sword. She had acquaintances among the top talents of the Lianhua Sect, but a male friend? Not one. The rumours were well-established—she disliked men, had threatened more than a few with her blade, and had once severed a young man's ear for reasons that were never fully explained publicly. His family hadn't dared pursue it. For someone with that reputation to claim friendship with a man, openly and without hesitation, was nothing short of extraordinary.
"They're starting to look for you," Lu Ruyi said, not sparing him a glance.
Elder Xuan looked down. Sure enough, Su Tianhao and Wang Bing were scanning the crowd. He turned back to Lu Ruyi—many questions still unsettled in his mind, but he chose to keep them aside.
For now.
Boom!
He was gone.
Lu Ruyi watched him disappear, then turned to Qiongqi and stroked the eagle's emerald feathers with calm familiarity.
"Let's move closer, Qiongqi. I think the show is finally starting."
Qiongqi answered with a sharp cry, spread her massive wings, and shot through the clouds.
---
Below, the gathering ground hummed with the energy of a thousand different lives converging on a single point.
Nobles arrived in silk robes and fine attire, their bearing polished and deliberate. Those from middling backgrounds wore practical martial outfits, prepared with the focused intensity of people for whom today genuinely mattered. And at the edges, in worn robes and inherited gear, others stood quietly—unremarkable in appearance, carrying something harder to see: the hunger of those who had never been handed anything and were here to take it.
More people kept flowing in, the crowd swelling by the minute, every voice adding to a noise that had stopped being a collection of conversations and become something else entirely—a single, raw, unfiltered sound.
The gathering ground itself was vast—a circular clearing spanning several kilometres, its floor carved into smooth stone so level and spotless it looked less like natural terrain and more like something constructed. Dry grass grew along its outer edges, the only sign that the mountain hadn't entirely surrendered to what had been built on top of it.
Su Tianhao stood among it all, golden eyes moving quietly across the crowd.
"Have you seen Uncle Xuan?"
Wang Bing appeared at his shoulder, voice deliberately low.
"No," he said, raising a hand to shade his eyes as he scanned the space. "He'll be here soon."
As if responding to the words, Elder Xuan materialised before them in a blur—there and present before most eyes had time to register movement.
"Uncle Xuan!" Wang Bing's relief was obvious. Being alone with Su Tianhao after what she'd done with her arm was doing nothing good for her composure. Her face was still red with embarrassment.
"I never left, Bing'er," Elder Xuan said with a smile, his eyes already moving methodically through the crowd. "A few more minutes and the cutoff passes. No more applicants after that."
Ten minutes later, a voice rang out—not from any visible source, resonating from the sky itself, from the ground, from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.
"Welcome Everyone!"
Someone in the crowd looked up first.
"THERE! THE EXAMINERS!"
Within seconds, a hundred voices joined the chaos.
Su Tianhao turned skyward. His golden eyes narrowed slightly against the sunlight.
Seven figures hovered above, each one carrying an aura that pressed down on the crowd below like a physical weight—present, unmistakable, impossible to ignore.
The foremost among them was a handsome middle-aged man with a burly build—broad-shouldered, thick-armed, the kind of frame that spoke less of cultivation refinement and more of something forged through a thousand fights. His black robes were streaked with silver, sleeves casually rolled up to expose his massive forearms. Short black hair moved fluid and smooth in the high-altitude wind, and his well-trimmed beard sat sharp against an equally sharp jawline. But it was his eyes—those light brown eyes glinting with fierce mischief—that made the whole picture contradictory. He looked less like the leader of an Outer Court and more like someone who had wandered in from a street brawl and hadn't bothered to change clothes.
This was Huo Changfeng—3rd level Martial Grandmaster, and overall leader of the Outer Court.
Flanking him were two figures of similar weight, if not rank.
The male elder to his left was shirtless—and wore it with the comfort of someone who had long since stopped caring what anyone thought. His body was all dense muscle and old scars, every mark a story, none of them particularly gentle ones. White hair spiked outward from his scalp in thick, rigid clumps like a porcupine in full alert, falling all the way to his waist. His expression carried no warmth, no performance, no concession to the occasion. Silver eyes swept the crowd below with the slow, heavy assessment of someone who had seen ten thousand examinations and was already sorting the ones before him into categories.
The crowd beneath those eyes went instinctively quiet in his vicinity.
This was Bai Tianhu—Peak Master of the Jadeclaw Peak, 1st level Martial Grandmaster.
The female elder to the right presented an entirely different kind of authority. Strikingly beautiful, composed, dressed in an emerald traditional hanfu that moved with the unhurried grace of someone entirely at ease in their own skin. Flawless jade-like complexion, hair swept into an elegant bun, a face that read as someone in their early thirties and was almost certainly lying about that by several decades. She would have been impossible not to look at—except for the quality in her expression that made a second glance feel inadvisable. Not hostility. Something sharper than hostility. A precision in the eyes that suggested she was already aware of exactly who was looking at her, and had already decided what she thought about it.
This was Duan Fei—Peak Master of the Silverblade Peak, 1st level Martial Grandmaster.
Behind the three of them, four Outer Sect Elders hovered in a loose formation—two from each peak—their robes distinctive in cut and colour but each bearing the Qingyun Sect insignia in blue, marking their rank clearly. All genuine Martial Masters.
Huo Changfeng stepped forward.
"Ahem." His smile widened, light brown eyes sweeping across the crowd with open amusement.
"I welcome y'all once more."
A pause—brief, deliberate.
"I could talk about legacy, destiny, the honour of standing before the Qingyun Sect—but I won't."
Another pause. Shorter.
"You're here because you believe you're worth something. Today we find out if you're right." His gaze moved across the crowd one final time. "Give us everything you have. And if everything you have isn't enough?"
He shrugged. Completely unbothered.
"Come back next year."
Yayyy!!!
The crowd erupted. Some youngsters among them punched into the air. Some clenched their chests with passionate hunger. Some girls among them had even begun to tear up.
"What the hell—" Su Tianhao began.
"SILENCE!!!"
The word arrived like a physical force—Bai Tianhu's voice cracking through the air and into the ground simultaneously,rattling stones and stilling breath.
His silver eyes bore down on the crowd as though they personally owed him money.