At dawn, the eastern sky whitened, mist swirling enchantingly. Vast peaks and valleys rose and fell, dotted with an array of buildings—golden and resplendent. Shrouded in dense spiritual energy, the place resembled an immortal realm.
Before this expanse stood a striking mountain gate, flanked by two towering jade pillars. Above them, a massive stone slab bore the flamboyant inscription “Shengyuan Academy” in bold, soaring characters.
Visible for dozens of li around, all who passed knew this was no ordinary place—it was the colossal sect of Shengyuan Academy, a gathering ground for geniuses.
As the sun rose, two black-clad youths stood guard at the gate.
“Senior Brother Mo Fei, do you think the Ninth Prince will arrive today?” a lean youth asked.
“I got word that, given his travel pace, he should reach us today. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have swapped to guard the gate,” Mo Fei nodded.
“The Ninth Prince’s talent is peerless—already a Heavenly Martial at such a young age. Once he joins Shengyuan Academy, our Mo Alliance’s strength will soar in no time!” the lean youth said.
“Exactly. In two or three years, he’ll rise to match the Third Prince. With their protection, even the inner sect factions won’t dare cross our Mo Alliance lightly,” Mo Fei’s face lit with eager hope, his gaze darting forward expectantly.
Then, two blurry figures appeared in his sight, sparking joy. “He’s here!”
The lean youth’s eyes brightened, sharing his excitement as they watched the approaching pair.
But as the figures sharpened, their expressions stiffened.
A boy and a girl. The girl, about fifteen, was stunning—delicate and radiant, her princess-style hair adorned with a jade phoenix pin, draped in a green silk gown. Her still-developing figure hinted at future beauty.
The boy, sixteen or seventeen, had an utterly plain face—far from the thirteen-year-old prodigy they awaited.
As they neared, Mo Fei sized them up, then fixed Lin Xiao with an unfriendly stare. “Who are you?”
Lin Xiao scanned them in return. Both around eighteen, at Heavenly Martial Third Layer, they wore black robes with badges: a “Yuan” character beside a single star—likely Shengyuan disciple markers. Another badge bore “Mo,” suggesting a faction or origin.
“We’re here to join Shengyuan Academy. Please assist us, Senior Brothers,” Lin Xiao said calmly, his tone neither servile nor arrogant.
“Hmph, you think Shengyuan Academy is some roadside inn you can just stroll into?” the lean youth snorted disdainfully.
“Recruitment’s not open now. Wherever you’re from, go back. This isn’t a place you can waltz into!” Mo Fei glared, his voice edged with menace.
He didn’t link them to the Ninth Prince—just two nobodies drawn by fame. Disappointed from mistaking them for Mo Jiuxiao, he had no warmth for them.
To Shengyuan disciples, outsiders warranted haughty disdain—no one dared cross them lightly.
Given their ages and looks, he doubted they held real power.
Hu Yue bristled, but Lin Xiao patted her hand, calming her.
Fishing in his storage ring, he produced two Shengyuan Tokens, asking evenly, “These should suffice, right?”
The pair started—Shengyuan disciples knew what the tokens meant.
A Shengyuan Token granted entry privilege. Bearers, like the Ninth Prince, commanded respect even within the academy, backed by compatriots. Offending them could spell trouble.
Suspiciously eyeing them again, Mo Fei and the lean youth each took a token.
Flipping them, the lean youth saw “Lan” engraved on one. His expression shifted from surprise to hostility—Lanlan was Moyu’s sworn enemy.
Beside him, Mo Fei paled, trembling as he stared at the “Mo”-etched token. “The Ninth Prince’s token!” he blurted.
Moyu had one token left—held by the Ninth Prince en route to Shengyuan.
He wouldn’t have handed it over willingly.
The only explanation: this youth had taken it from him—though Mo Fei couldn’t believe he’d bested Mo Jiuxiao.
He snapped his head up, icy eyes boring into them. “How did you get these tokens?” he demanded, voice dripping with menace.
The lean youth froze, then checked Mo Fei’s token. His face darkened, his gaze turning frigid, killing intent seeping out. “You stole the Ninth Prince’s token?” he asked, voice low and sinister.
Hu Yue tensed, on guard.
Noting their shift, Lin Xiao’s expression cooled. He hadn’t expected instant recognition—clearly Moyu disciples, likely awaiting Mo Jiuxiao, and they’d stumbled into them.
But two Heavenly Martial Third Layers from Moyu? Hardly a threat to him. Scanning them, he countered, “Whoever we are, however we got them—with these tokens, we can enter Shengyuan Academy. That’s not your business, is it?”
“Not our business? Who do you think you are?” Mo Fei’s anger flared at the fearless retort.
“Hmph, I’ll be blunt—we’re from Moyu. Speak the truth, or I’ll kill you both right now!” the lean youth barked, eyes blazing with intent.
“As expected,” Lin Xiao thought, unfazed by their threats. His calm reply stunned them: “Take me to the elder in charge.”
