As evening approached and a cool breeze drifted by, the final stage of the recruitment ceremony unfolded on Wendao Square as scheduled.
The scramble for disciples.
The Elders of various halls and peaks did everything in their power—some promised the moon, while others bragged shamelessly.
All of this was merely to win the favor of the new disciples.
Some Elders spoke incessantly, their words extravagant and their spittle flying everywhere.
Others, less eloquent, were so anxious that their faces turned a deep shade of crimson, unable to get a word out.
Some disciples were firm in their goals.
Others wavered, unable to decide.
Some disciples even offered their own empty promises in return.
And then there were those who essentially put themselves up for auction, to be taken by the highest bidder.
The Elders fought and vied with one another, occasionally breaking into profanity and "affectionately" inquiring after each other's families. The usual harmony of the sect was completely overturned in this moment.
The battle was particularly fierce around the three disciples with single spirit roots.
In contrast, Xia Chu Yi, despite her variant spirit root, found herself in a quiet spot. After all, she had already been pre-assigned to Li Qingshan; no one dared to snatch her, and frankly, no one wanted to.
This girl was fine in every other way, but she talked far too much.
Taking her in would be...
However, when Li Qingshan came to collect her, Xia Chu Yi seemed reluctant to take him as her master.
Instead, she stated that she wanted to follow her uncle.
Li Qingshan was speechless.
You’re actually being picky?
"Your uncle told you to follow me."
"Oh, alright then."
Xia Chu Yi looked very unwilling. She still felt that her uncle was a bit better looking than Li Qingshan.
As for Tu Kongkong, she was very nervous.
Listening to the chatter around her, she kept her head down, fidgeting with the hem of her clothes and not daring to speak. The surrounding Elders grew anxious and asked her softly.
"Little girl, don't be afraid. Just tell us—who do you want to go with?"
Tu Kongkong looked up and stole a glance back at the head of Longevity Bridge. Xu Xian, who had been by the stone stele, had vanished at some point.
She withdrew her gaze with a hint of disappointment and slowly scanned the crowd before whispering, "I want to follow Xu Xian. Is that okay?"
The expressions on everyone's faces were quite a sight.
"Why?"
Tu Kongkong said earnestly, "Xu Xian said it... he said he would cover for me..."
The Elders were unwilling to give up and tried everything to persuade her, but Tu Kongkong remained exceptionally persistent.
Wen Qingxue squeezed through the crowd and confirmed once more, "It has to be him?"
Without any hesitation, Tu Kongkong gave a heavy nod.
"Then come with me."
"Huh?"
"I'll take you to find him."
Tu Kongkong looked at Wen Qingxue, hesitated for a long while, and then agreed.
"Okay!"
And so, Wen Qingxue essentially picked up a bargain, securing a single spirit root disciple for the Sword Suppression Hall.
With Xia Chu Yi being taken by Li Qingshan as well, the Sword Suppression Hall had returned with a full harvest from this Disciple Recruitment Assembly.
After all, whether it was Xu Xian or Li Qingshan, they usually weren't under the direct management of the Sword Suppression Hall, but their names were still on the hall's official roster.
Out of the four single spirit roots in total, the Sword Suppression Hall had walked away with two.
This naturally made the other halls green with envy, and they huddled together, grumbling and complaining incessantly...
The recruitment ceremony, much like the sky overhead, gradually drew to a close.
Yet, a confrontation outside the mountain continued.
In a corner of a high mountain gorge, a withered old man with graying hair at his temples carried a large, blood-red banner on his shoulder. The mist swirling on the banner was turbulent, as if countless beasts were struggling within it.
The old man crouched like a monkey on an ancient pine tree perched on the edge of a great cliff.
The branch beneath his feet was no thicker than a thumb, yet as he crouched there, the branch did not bend in the slightest. Even when the wind blew and the tree canopy swayed, he moved rhythmically with the branch, as if he were sitting on a boat.
Below the tree, where the mountain grass was just beginning to turn green, stood a woman. She was dressed in formal, elegant attire, her light veils fluttering. She seemed to stand within a shimmering mist, making her form and features difficult to discern.
Only her eyes were partially visible.
Yet, that mere glimpse of her brow and eyes was enough to bewitch all souls and bring ruin to empires.
Her eyes were filled with concern as she looked past the old man toward the Wendao Sect, which appeared desolate under the slanted rays of the evening sun.
The old man frowned slightly, his eyes narrowed into slits. Looking kind and gentle, he said warmly, "Senior, the mountains are high and the road is long; you may return slowly."
The woman in the mist glanced at him—just a single glance.
She didn't care to respond.
The old man pursed his lips, his grip tightening on the blood-red banner. His gentle tone turned somewhat sharp as he continued, "The older I get, the less patience I have. Especially after dark, my temper gets even worse."
Hearing this, the woman in the mist let out a rare, light chuckle.
"Heh..."
It had been many years—many years since anyone had threatened her. She replied with a hint of provocation, "Do you dare?"
The old man felt a slight sense of disdain. He raised a hand to pick at his ear and said nonchalantly, "Calling you 'Senior' is simply because you are older than me. You should really thank my Little Junior Brother for not letting the Demon-Slaying Sword kill that child. If that had happened, there would truly be no room for negotiation, and I naturally wouldn't let you leave."
"With just you?"
The old man twirled the blood-red banner in his hand, his eyebrows arching. "You think it's not enough?"
The woman in the mist shook her head and murmured, "With that, it's true you can suppress a demon immortal... but you have to sleep for a long time after using it once. And I happens to have nine lives. How do you solve that?"
The old man did not deny it. He licked his dry lips and smiled. "It's true that you have nine lives, but this is merely one of your spirit bodies. Does it also have nine lives? Not to mention whether your true body would dare to cross the line at the North Sea. Even if your true body did come, I wouldn't be the only one standing before you. You know that I am ranked ninth; my strength has always been average, quite unremarkable."
It was a warning.
It was also exposing her weakness.
I know your trump cards. You don't need to put on an act.
"Heh... it's been ten thousand years. Just like him, the people of the Wendao Sect are still as stubborn as ever," the woman sighed.
The old man squinted. "Rest assured, Senior. Since that child has entered the Wendao Sect, we will naturally look after her, for your sake..."
The woman’s gaze suddenly turned cold. Upon closer inspection, her resentment outweighed her anger as she said cryptically, "You should indeed look after her well, but not for my sake. This is what the Wendao Sect owes her. You were meant to do this."
The old man was confused. After a moment of thought, he asked, though he suspected the answer, "I am curious—what exactly is the relationship between that child and you?"
The woman countered with a question, "What do you think?"
The old man spoke as if joking, but it was a deliberate probe. "She couldn't possibly be your child, could she?"
"So you did know!" the woman stated plainly.
A flicker of light passed through the old man's eyes. "Then I don't understand. Since she is your child, why would you risk this? If she were truly slain by the Demon-Slaying Sword, what would you have done? Or do you think your own child is a waste, using her as bait so that if she truly died at that bridge, you would have a reason to go to war with my Wendao Sect?"
The woman tilted her head slightly, looking at him as if he were a fool.
The old man stared straight at her, his eyes full of speculation.
The woman in the mist suddenly smiled, full of disdain yet incredibly confident.
"It wouldn't happen!"
"Hmm?"
"Even without your Junior Brother, that sword would never have struck her."
"Where does your confidence come from?"
The woman in the mist stepped into the air, each step glowing as if she were treading on hope. Like a noblewoman at a grand event, she reached the ancient pine in a few steps.
She stood nearly level with the old man, pausing in mid-air. She glanced at him and said slowly, "You saw it."
"That child is a half-demon."
"I am her mother."
"Who do you think her father is?"
The old man froze, the expression on his aged face shifting between light and shadow.
The woman smiled slightly, glanced at the blood-red banner, and added, "Treasure it well."
"Before long, this banner will have to return to its original owner..."
With that, the spirit body walked further and further away until she vanished, as if she had never been there at all.
The blood-red banner in the old man's hand dissolved into countless crimson streaks and returned to his sleeve, yet he remained motionless, crouching on the treetop.
Her words continued to echo in his ears.
A half-demon?
The mother is a demon.
The father is a human.
Who is her father?
The old man's brow furrowed deeper and deeper as he muttered to himself, "Only one person has ever entered the North Sea and returned unscathed..."
"But... why is she only eleven years old?"
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