Haotian stepped away from the formation circle, his robe untouched, his face calm despite the whispers swirling around him. The laughter that had once filled the courtyard was muted now, replaced by a quieter tension. Disciples who had jeered at the other men now found themselves whispering behind their sleeves, eyes stealing toward him with unease—or fascination.
Enough, Haotian thought, brushing dust from his sleeve. This was never my place. I'll leave and find silence elsewhere.
He turned toward the gate.
But before he could take three steps, silver-robed figures dropped down before him, the sweep of their sleeves scattering petals of qi across the courtyard.
Three inner disciples blocked his path, their faces youthful but their eyes sharp. The one in the middle—tall, with her hair bound in a high knot—smirked faintly as she spun her sword once and leveled it casually toward him.
"Leaving already? How rude. You passed the rejection trials better than anyone here, and now you walk away as if we don't exist?"
The disciples surrounding them chuckled, voices filled with thin amusement.
"He looks so calm, like we're invisible.""Perhaps he thinks himself too good for us?""Then let's see how long that calm lasts."
Haotian's brow creased ever so slightly. "I came by mistake. Your sect is not for me. Let me pass."
The tall disciple's smirk widened. "Mistake or not, you've stepped into the Moon Lotus Sect grounds. That means you follow our customs. When an outsider shows strength, he must answer for it. Or else—"
She snapped her wrist. The sword flared with cold qi, its edge shimmering like moonlight."—he proves to us he has nothing but borrowed bravado."
The crowd pressed closer. Dozens of female disciples leaned in, some amused, others curious. Whispers rippled like waves.
"Will he fight?""He handled the trial's formation like it was nothing.""But combat against a Moon Lotus disciple… surely that's where he falls."
Haotian sighed inwardly. So they cannot let me walk away without spectacle.
His right hand lifted slightly. A faint pulse of golden qi shimmered from the spatial ring on his finger. With a ripple of light, the Fenglong Spear manifested into his grip, its polished shaft gleaming with quiet menace. Gasps spread through the courtyard — not just at the weapon, but at the ease with which he revealed it.
"I do not wish to fight," he said simply.
The tall disciple laughed, low and sharp. "Then you will kneel."
She lunged, her blade thrusting in a dazzling arc of silver light. Gasps tore from the crowd—her sword was famed for its speed, a strike that had humbled even senior sisters.
But Haotian's spear blurred, intercepting the blade with a resonant CLANG! Sparks sprayed across the stone, the force reverberating through the courtyard.
The disciple's eyes widened. Her strike had been dismissed as though it were nothing.
Before she could recover, Haotian pressed forward once, his spear sweeping in a calm, controlled arc that stopped a hair's breadth from her throat. The air stilled.
Gasps spread like fire through the watching crowd.
"He… he stopped her cold.""That wasn't even full strength.""Impossible… a man—!"
Haotian lowered the spear, letting it dissolve back into light as it returned to his spatial ring. His gaze was steady, calm, unshaken."I do not wish to humiliate you. Let me pass."
The disciple trembled, her pride burning hot beneath the weight of his words.
High above, Elder Ziyue's lips curved faintly. She leaned her chin against one hand, her sharp eyes narrowing with interest.
"Even when provoked, he does not lose himself," she murmured. "He cuts like lightning, yet holds like still water. Dangerous… and fascinating."
Her attendants remained silent, though unease flickered in their eyes.
Ziyue's smile deepened, though her tone remained cool."Let the disciples test him further. If he weathers their thorns, then I will call him to my hall. A lotus blooms more brilliantly when pressed by storm."
Haotian walked forward again, the gate looming just ahead. Yet even as the tall disciple stepped aside, others moved to block his way—more curious eyes, more sharp blades, more lotus petals of qi scattering in the courtyard wind.
He exhaled, calm but resolute. So even leaving will demand battle. If peace is what I seek, then I must first carve a path to it myself.
And the spear within his ring thrummed faintly, eager to answer once more.
The gate was within reach. Yet like lotus petals closing around prey, more disciples flowed into Haotian's path. Silver sleeves shimmered, blades flashed faintly in the courtyard light. Their laughter was no longer derision—it was curiosity sharpened into challenge.
"Show us again," one girl called, her eyes bright."Yes, don't think you can stop with just a single strike," another chimed, gripping her spear."If you wish to leave, prove you can walk through us all," a third declared, lips curved in a teasing smile.
Whispers rippled through the gathered crowd. This was no longer a rejection trial. It was spectacle.
Haotian exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. They do not seek my death… only to measure me. Still, if I yield, I lose dignity. If I lash out, I invite blood. So be it. I will walk this path without killing.
The first challenger rushed forward—an agile disciple wielding twin daggers that flashed like silver snakes. She struck fast, darting around him with dazzling steps, blades slicing for his ribs.
Haotian summoned the Fenglong Spear from his spatial ring in a shimmer of golden light. His movements were calm, each deflection precise, the spear's shaft intercepting dagger after dagger. Sparks hissed with each clash, but his expression did not waver. Finally, with a flick of the spear's butt, he knocked her off balance. She staggered, but landed on her feet—untouched, unharmed.
The crowd gasped.
"He didn't cut her…""He could have—did you see? He held back at the very edge.""That control—"
Another disciple leapt in immediately, wielding a whip that cracked through the air like thunder. It coiled and lashed, snaking for Haotian's throat.
His brow creased faintly. With one step, he spun the Fenglong Spear in a controlled arc, tangling the whip mid-air. A sharp pull—SNAP!—and the weapon recoiled from her hand, clattering uselessly on the stone. Haotian rested the spear against his shoulder, his eyes calm as ever.
The disciple flushed, bowing stiffly before retreating.
One by one, more came.
A spear thrust in a fierce charge—disarmed in three moves.A sword dance of dazzling footwork—stopped by a single steady block.An elder disciple with a halberd—her power crashed like a storm, yet Haotian deflected every strike, then tapped her shoulder once with the spear's butt to end it cleanly.
Through it all, Haotian never struck to wound. Every move was clean, efficient, and final—yet controlled to the point of restraint. Each time his opponents fell back, breathless but unhurt.
By the tenth challenger, the courtyard was in uproar.
"He's not fighting—he's teaching.""His precision… every strike ends at the exact point of defeat, no further.""It's as if he knows their techniques better than they do themselves!"
Whispers turned into awe, and awe into something sharper: reverence, laced with unease.
At the center of it all, Haotian stood calm, his chest rising steadily, the Fenglong Spear dissolving back into his spatial ring in a ripple of light. He looked around at the silent, staring crowd.
"Is it enough?" he asked softly.
High above, Elder Ziyue's lips curved faintly, her eyes gleaming like the moon.
"It is enough," she murmured to herself. "Not only strength, but patience. Not only patience, but restraint. He holds a blade sharper than any of theirs… yet he sheaths it willingly. Dangerous indeed."
She rose from her seat, her robes flowing like silver mist. "Summon him to my hall. The lotus has tested him. Now I will."
Haotian turned again toward the gate. But this time, instead of disciples blocking his way, an attendant stepped forward, bowing low.
"Honored guest," she said formally, though her voice trembled faintly, "Elder Ziyue summons you to her hall."
The courtyard erupted in whispers once more.
"Elder Ziyue herself?!""She hasn't summoned an outsider in years!""What does she see in him…?"
Haotian's gaze lingered on the attendant, then rose toward the high pavilion where a faint silhouette in silver stood waiting. His eyes narrowed slightly, then he inclined his head.
So the test was not theirs alone. Very well. Let us see what this elder seeks.
The courtyard still hummed with tension long after the spear dissolved back into Haotian's spatial ring.
Disciples stood in clusters, their voices low but urgent, eyes flicking toward the man who had just walked through their circle of challenges without faltering once.
"I've never seen such control… it was like he knew exactly where to stop.""He disarmed Senior Sister Yan with a single twist—she's been training that whip for five years!""Don't be fooled. Restraint is just another mask. That calmness… it hides arrogance."
Some stared at him with admiration, eyes shining as though looking at a figure out of legend. Others clenched their fists in envy, their pride stung by how effortlessly he had dismantled techniques they had honed for years.
But when the attendant announced Elder Ziyue's summons, the whispers turned into outright shock.
"Elder Ziyue? That Elder Ziyue?""She hasn't personally summoned anyone in a decade!""Why him? Just because he humiliated us?""No… she must have seen something."
The speculation spread like fire, some voices tinged with awe, others dripping with bitterness. Already, the seeds of rivalry were being sown.
Haotian ignored them all. His expression remained calm, unreadable, though his mind noted the shifting eyes and clenched jaws. He followed the attendant without hesitation, his steps steady as he crossed the courtyard toward the elder halls.
The Moon Lotus Sect's elder pavilions stood high above the training grounds, perched upon a terrace overlooking rivers of mist. Their walls gleamed with pale stone, their roofs curved like lotus petals reaching for the sky.
The attendant bowed deeply before an arched gate, gesturing inward. "Please, this way. Elder Ziyue awaits."
Haotian stepped inside.
The air was cool, scented faintly of lotus incense. Moonlight filtered through latticed windows, casting pale patterns upon the polished floor. At the far end of the hall, a single figure sat in quiet poise.
Elder Ziyue.
Her silver robes shimmered in the dim light, her hair pinned high, her posture serene yet commanding. Her eyes, sharp as moonlit blades, fixed upon Haotian the moment he entered.
For a long breath, silence stretched between them.
Then she spoke, her voice calm yet resonant, like a string plucked in still air.
"You carry yourself as if no one here can touch you."
Haotian's gaze was steady. "Because they cannot."
Her lips curved faintly, neither smile nor frown. "And yet, you did not wound a single one. You turned blades aside, stopped short of killing strikes. Why?"
Haotian's reply came without hesitation."I have no quarrel with them. They sought to measure me. I let them. To take a life needlessly is to walk a path of ruin."
Ziyue studied him quietly, her fingers drumming once against the armrest. Finally, her eyes narrowed, and her tone sharpened.
"You say you came here by mistake. Then tell me, Haotian—what is it you truly seek?"
Moonlight fell across the elder's hall, painting pale lines across the polished stone. Elder Ziyue's gaze lingered on Haotian, sharp and unreadable, as though weighing every fiber of his being.
"You say you have no quarrel with my disciples," she said softly. "Yet you do not belong here. So again I ask—what do you seek, boy?"
Haotian stood tall, hands folded within his sleeves, his expression calm. He did not bow, nor did he bristle. His words came evenly, without ornament.
"I seek rest. I seek peace to refine my pills."
Her brows arched faintly. "Pills?"
He nodded once. "I left the Cold River Sect because of their politics. They sought not to nurture talent, but to strangle it. My skill in pill forging drew envy instead of support. When suppression failed, they sent assassins. Twenty-one of them. All lie dead, but I had no wish to drown in endless blood. So I left."
For the first time, Ziyue's lips parted slightly, a flicker of genuine surprise glinting in her eyes.
Pill forging… she thought, her heart stirring. And at such a level that even the Cold River Sect would rather kill him than risk his rise?
She leaned forward, her sleeve whispering softly across the armrest. Her voice lowered, honey-smooth, each word deliberate.
"The Moon Lotus Sect is not the Cold River Sect. We do not strangle talent. We cherish it. Especially the rare kind that reshapes fate itself."
Her eyes shimmered faintly in the lamplight."Do you know what we lack, Haotian? Not swords, not spears. Alchemy. Pill refining. Our disciples train hard, their qi burns bright—but without pills to temper them, their rise is slow. If you can do what you claim, then perhaps the heavens delivered you to our gate for a reason."
She paused, letting her words hang, before continuing with a sly curve of her lips."There are men in the Moon Lotus Sect… relegated to manual labor, of course. Haulers. Groundskeepers. They have no place among the lotus blossoms of cultivation. But you…"
Her gaze lingered on him, dark and heavy."If you truly wish only to refine pills, I could make arrangements. A sanctuary, resources, protection—freedom from politics. All depending, of course, on whether your skills match your words."
Her tone dripped with subtle seduction, every syllable carefully spun to lure. The flicker of moonlight on her eyes, the softness threading her voice—it was a web cast wide, meant to bind.
But Haotian remained unmoved. His eyes were steady, his posture unchanged, his heart untouched by the elder's charms.
"I have no need for false promises," he said simply. "If you doubt my skill, test me. If I am unworthy, I will leave. If I am of use, then I will refine. Nothing more."
The hall was silent.
Then, slowly, Elder Ziyue's lips curved again—not in mockery, but in something rarer. Amusement.
"Unwavering even under temptation," she murmured. "How dull… and how dangerous."
Her eyes gleamed, sharp as moonlight on steel."Very well, Haotian. Show me. If your hands truly command the cauldron as you claim, then the Moon Lotus Sect will not only grant you peace… it will grant you purpose."
The Moon Lotus Sect's alchemy hall was a grand pavilion of stone and jade, its roof rising like overlapping lotus petals. Rows of cauldrons lined the interior, their bronze bodies etched with faint patterns of qi. The scent of herbs lingered thick in the air—bitter roots, sweet blossoms, dried stalks—all blending into the faint tang of medicine.
Disciples gathered quickly, word spreading like wildfire. Men had come before to labor in kitchens or tend the grounds, but never had one been led here, into the sect's sacred alchemy hall. Their whispers filled the chamber.
"Why would Elder Ziyue bring him here?""He said he's an alchemist?""Nonsense. Men are always boasting."
At the head of the hall, several elders stood with measured calm. Their eyes betrayed skepticism, yet also curiosity. Elder Ziyue herself sat at the center, her posture elegant, her gaze sharp, her lips curved faintly as though awaiting entertainment.
Haotian stood before the cauldron, his expression unchanged.
"You claim skill," one elder said curtly. "Then prove it. Refine a healing pill. Nothing complex. Let us see if your hands match your words."
Haotian inclined his head once.
With a flick of his sleeve, herbs spilled forth from his spatial ring—neatly arranged, each one fresh and perfectly chosen. Murmurs rippled through the hall.
He set them carefully, his movements calm, his eyes half-lidded as though the crowd did not exist. Then he extended his hand, golden qi flaring faintly from his palm. The cauldron glowed. A controlled flame roared to life, steady and pure.
The disciples leaned in, whispering. "His fire… it's so stable.""No fluctuation at all…"
Haotian dropped the first ingredients, the flame flaring to embrace them. Bitter roots crackled, sweet blossoms melted, dried stalks dissolved into shimmering essence. His hands moved like flowing water, guiding the fire, controlling the rhythm.
Then, with a sudden gesture, his other hand pressed against the cauldron. Lines of golden light spread outward—runes.
Gasps erupted.
"Runes—he's inscribing runes into the cauldron itself!""Impossible! That's a technique only grandmasters of the Central Continent can attempt!"
The runes wove into the flame, not disrupting it but guiding it, harmonizing fire and medicine. Essence spiraled in controlled arcs, condensing perfectly at the cauldron's heart.
Finally, with a deep exhale, Haotian lifted his palm. The cauldron lid trembled once before rising, and a cluster of pills floated into the air, glowing faintly with medicinal light.
Silence gripped the hall. Every disciple stared, wide-eyed, their breaths caught in their throats.
Haotian extended his hand, one pill floating above his palm. "A healing pill. Its base effect is standard—mending internal wounds and stabilizing qi circulation."
He turned the pill slightly, the faint glow of the rune inscribed upon its surface shimmering under the light.
"But the rune I embedded enhances absorption. When taken, the user's body will draw in the medicine 30% more efficiently, strengthening the recovery rate beyond its natural limit."
A stunned gasp swept through the hall.
"Thirty percent?!""That's the difference between survival and death in battle!""A runic pill… in our sect…"
On the dais, the elders exchanged startled looks. Even the most skeptical could no longer disguise their shock. Elder Ziyue, however, sat serene, her expression unreadable save for the faintest curve of her lips.
She leaned forward, her voice carrying across the hall."Very well, Haotian. You have shown us something even our own halls lack. Tell me—was this a mere trick, or the beginning of something greater?"
Haotian lowered the pill, his eyes calm."It was nothing more than a simple healing pill. There are greater heights in alchemy, if one is not afraid to climb."
The silence that followed was not disbelief—it was awe.