Out of the twenty-two, only one person’s gaze remained clear.
That was Ling Xiao.
Ling Xiao never thought he was lesser than anyone, especially after gaining the Mountain River Martial Soul. His cultivation speed had soared.
Genius after genius, once untouchable, had been left in his dust.
“To have made it here, you all have reason to be proud. Regardless of whether you become the Master’s disciple, each of you twenty-two will receive a Quasi-Mortal Martial Art of your choice as a reward.”
Lord Baiyun, Still True Man, bowed to the group with a smile. “Now, please follow me to the True Spirit Hall.”
“Senior Brother, there seem to be quite a few entering the True Spirit Hall this time. I recall when we went through, only three made it to the end,” Lin Ze said, grinning at Still True Man.
“You’re right. The youth today are far stronger than we were back then. But of those three, none were chosen as Master’s true disciples—only entry-level disciples,” Lord Baiyun nodded, then shook his head, a touch of disappointment in his voice.
This showed just how extraordinary it was to become Master Baiyun’s true disciple.
“Hmph, being an entry-level disciple is good enough,” Wan Ben snorted.
He’d lived most of his life, amassed power and strength, yet his one regret was never becoming Master Baiyun’s true disciple.
It was a sore spot.
That said, his life had transformed—from an ordinary disciple of a small clan to the current Governor of Baiyun—largely because he’d been taken as an entry-level disciple.
If an entry-level disciple could achieve that, he could scarcely imagine what a true disciple might accomplish.
Rumor had it Master Baiyun’s other three true disciples had already reached the Mortal Realm. He wondered if it was true.
Following Lord Baiyun through a garden, the group arrived at the True Spirit Hall.
Legend held that Master Baiyun had achieved enlightenment here, breaking through his limits to reach the Mortal Realm.
The True Spirit Hall had clearly been renovated, making it one of the most striking buildings in Baiyun Temple.
Outside, Lord Baiyun cupped his hands toward the hall. “Master, twenty-two have passed the three trials and are here. Please give your instructions.”
“Come in,” a gentle voice replied, like a kindly grandfather speaking, free of arrogance or pressure.
Yet hearing it, the group felt an immense weight.
True authority wasn’t feigned—it stemmed from strength.
A Mortal Realm martial artist, even if he looked like a frail old man, commanded respect from those who knew his power. None would dare act rashly before him.
Ling Xiao took a deep breath and followed the others inside.
At that moment, a cold voice whispered in his ear, “Ling Xiao, you killed my brother. That blood debt will be repaid.”
Fei Yu?
“Hmph. I killed your brother? You slaughtered hundreds of the Ling Clan, harmed countless human martial artists. How do we settle that debt?” Ling Xiao retorted, using a secret transmission.
It was a skill any Martial Master could naturally pick up.
“Let’s see who dies first,” Fei Yu shot back.
Since they were in the True Spirit Hall, Fei Yu said no more, shutting his mouth and heading inside.
Ling Xiao didn’t argue further. In the presence of a Mortal Realm martial artist, any action might be seen through.
He’d already decided: no matter what, he wouldn’t use the Mountain River Martial Soul here.
It was his trump card, the key to his success.
He couldn’t reveal it to anyone.
Not until he had the strength to protect himself.
For now, that was far off.
The twenty-two young martial artists entering the hall felt much like Ling Xiao—some even more nervous.
Even Lin Ze, Wan Ben, and Lord Baiyun wore solemn expressions, staying silent.
Only Zuo Leng and Ming Tian seemed relaxed, chatting and laughing.
True disciples indeed got different treatment.
“That’s Master Baiyun?”
Someone gasped in disbelief.
Master Baiyun’s appearance was nothing like they’d imagined.
They’d pictured a commanding, majestic figure, radiating a master’s aura.
But in reality?
Master Baiyun looked like a farmer, trimming a strange flower.
The flower had seven blooms, all crystal-clear, colorless, and unwilting.
His pant legs were rolled up, his shirt like a rural old man’s, a straw hat on his head, and a pipe in his mouth.
“Silence! You dare doubt Master Baiyun?”
Wan Ben snorted, nearly striking the youth dead with a palm.
At the last moment, Master Baiyun exhaled a smoke ring, effortlessly blocking Wan Ben.
“They’re good kids—why make a fuss? I’m just an old man. You think Mortal Realm means invincible, but at my level, you’d see I’m nothing special,” Master Baiyun said with a smile, setting down his shears. He tapped his pipe against the wall to douse it, then stored it in his storage ring.
“Master, you’re too modest,” Wan Ben said.
“Modest?”
Master Baiyun smiled without arguing, turning to the twenty-two youths below.
“When I take disciples, I don’t care about your race—human, ninja, blue-eyed, it’s all the same. They’re just lower races. Don’t worry about your origins. If your talent and potential are enough, you can be my disciple.”
His gaze swept over the group like lightning.
Except for Ling Xiao, everyone felt as if struck by thunder, their souls trembling, minds going blank.
Thankfully, Master Baiyun had no intent to harm, or none would’ve survived.
“Hm?”
His eyes lingered on Ling Yixue, pausing. “To think I’d meet such a genius. Interesting.”
“Has Master found a worthy talent?” Lin Ze and Wan Ben asked in unison.
“Yes, but sadly, only one qualifies to be my true disciple,” Master Baiyun sighed.
What?
The twenty-two, brimming with confidence and expectation, were stunned.
Some even felt angry.
“Master’s judgment is never wrong,” someone said.
No one dared question Master Baiyun’s insight. One glance, and he could see their level and talent clearly.
“No need to flatter me. My old eyes can misjudge,” Master Baiyun said cautiously. “So, let the Seven-Star Flower decide.”
He was prudent. Selecting disciples wasn’t a snap decision—he gave the youths a chance to prove themselves.
