The hall had barely settled after Mark's first announcement when he lifted his hand again, signaling that he was far from finished.
The elders braced themselves; robes rustled, backs stiffened, and even the grand elders exchanged uneasy glances.
Mark didn't soften his tone. If anything, his voice grew firmer, colder, sharper, like a blade pressing against their throats.
"Secondly," he said, "as I have already announced in the clan, which you might have heard through rumors, I am also introducing a new profession to our sect, the Gunmaster. Each of you is aware that cultivation alone limits the growth of countless disciples. Of the 100, we only find one good seedling that has the potential to grow into a tree. Of the 100 good seedlings, we can only find one that indeed becomes a tree. That means, for every 10,000 people we find, only one ends up being talented enough to enter our inner sect, which takes up almost 90% of our resources in the end. Under my rule, that changes."
