Throughout the journey, Chen Mo sat in silence, no different from the other three recruits, yet inwardly shaken. In his previous life, such scenes belonged to ink and paper, to web pages scrolled past midnight. Now he stood within one.

  The spiritual boat cleaved through the heavens like a dark blade. Beyond the window, mountains and rivers dissolved into streaks of fading color, the mortal world smeared into insignificance by impossible speed. The air hummed with restrained power. Even breathing felt different, as though the sky itself carried weight.

  He had imagined this countless times.

  Imagination had been mercifully small.

  As Chen Mo drifted in thought, Steward Luo Shen finally spoke, his voice steady yet carrying unquestioned authority.

  “We will reach the gates of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect in two days. I will briefly explain what awaits you.”

  His gaze rested first on Song Yue.

  “Song Yue. You will most likely be accepted directly as an inner sect disciple. It is even possible that an elder will take you as a personal disciple. With your dual spiritual roots, you may one day stand as a pillar of the sect.”

  Song Yue bowed with composed grace.

  “This disciple thanks Steward Luo. I will cultivate diligently.”

  Luo Shen nodded in satisfaction before turning to the remaining three.

  “The rest of you will enter the outer sect. There, you must work hard. Only by reaching the late stage of Qi Condensation will you have the opportunity to compete for entry into the Inner Sect.”

  His tone cooled slightly as his eyes shifted to Chen Mo.

  “And you. What is your name?”

  Chen Mo rose and bowed.

  “This humble one is called Chen Mo.”

  At the side, Li Yuxue’s gaze sharpened. The faint familiarity she had sensed earlier now settled into certainty. She said nothing.

  Luo Shen continued evenly, “Ordinarily, the Azure Pine Immortal Sect does not recruit those with five-attribute spiritual roots. Such foundations are too scattered, too slow to bear fruit. However, I was in good spirits today and permitted it to complete the quota.”

  A faint pause.

  “You will be assigned to the Menial Disciples Department. Are you willing?”

  Chen Mo’s thoughts stirred like a storm behind still waters.

  As if I have a choice.

  Yet his face remained calm.

  “Yes, Steward. This one is willing.”

  Luo Shen gave a brief nod.

  “That will suffice. Rest. We will speak further upon arrival.”

  The cabin fell quiet once more.

  Outside, the spiritual boat cut across the boundless sky, carrying ambition, expectation, and quiet resentment alike toward the distant peaks of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect.

  Li Yuxue did not hesitate.

  The moment Luo Shen’s presence receded into distant authority, she stepped toward Chen Mo, her movements measured, her expression no longer distracted by dreams of immortal ascension.

  “Long time no see, Steward Chen.”

  Her voice was calm. Too calm.

  Chen Mo had expected this encounter from the instant she confirmed his name. His pulse did not quicken. His back remained straight.

  “Young Miss Li,” he replied with a polite bow, “it has indeed been long. This humble one congratulates you on your success and wishes you a prosperous path in cultivation.”

  The courtesy was smooth, almost ceremonial.

  Li Yuxue’s eyes hardened.

  “I am no longer the naive girl you once knew, Chen Mo. Your crimes are still vivid in my memory.”

  Inside, Chen Mo clicked his tongue.

  So it begins.

  Outwardly, he frowned faintly. “Young Miss jokes. What crimes could this humble one possibly commit? I was framed and forced to flee for my life. I endured humiliation and danger while waiting for the immortal recruitment. Had I not arrived today, I might already be a corpse.”

  Li Yuxue’s gaze did not waver.

  “I do not know the full truth,” she said slowly, “but I am certain you were involved in everything that happened after you escaped the Martial Hall. The government would not brand someone a rebel without reason.”

  Chen Mo’s mouth twitched despite himself.

  “Authorities are rarely infallible,” he answered carefully. “I was merely a scapegoat.”

  Her expression darkened.

  “Scapegoat or not, my family paid the price. Our reputation was stained. Our position weakened. Whether by design or consequence, your actions brought disaster.”

  A faint tremor passed through her voice, quickly suppressed.

  “All who had a hand in it will answer one day. Including that City Lord Xu.”

  She held his gaze for one last breath. Not rage. Not hysteria. Something colder.

  Then she turned and walked away, choosing a seat as far from him as the cabin allowed.

  Silence returned.

  Chen Mo remained where he stood, eyes lowered, thoughts churning.

  Damn it.

  The immortal path had barely begun, yet old debts had boarded the boat with him. And unlike mortal grievances, these would not fade with time.

  Above them, the spiritual boat sliced through the heavens, indifferent to grudges, ambition, or guilt alike.

  Two days later, the spiritual boat began to slow.

  What had once been a streak of black tearing across the heavens now glided like a great ink brush lowering toward parchment. The air changed first. It grew denser, richer. Each breath Chen Mo drew into his lungs felt cool and invigorating, as if invisible threads of vitality were weaving themselves into his flesh.

  Then the clouds parted.

  Below them rose mountains.

  Not mere mountains.

  Pillars of jade and stone thrust upward through seas of drifting mist, their peaks piercing the sky like ancient spears left behind by forgotten gods. Waterfalls cascaded from impossible heights, turning into silver ribbons that dissolved into clouds before touching ground. Pine forests clung to steep cliffs, their needles shimmering faintly with spiritual light.

  At the center stood the main gate of the Azure Pine Immortal Sect.

  Two colossal stone pillars framed it, carved with coiling dragons and soaring phoenixes. Between them hung a massive plaque of dark azure wood, characters engraved in gold that seemed to pulse faintly with power:

  Azure Pine Immortal Sect.

  The strokes were simple. The pressure behind them was not.

  Even from this distance, Chen Mo felt it. A vast, restrained force, like a slumbering beast curled beneath the mountains.

  Beyond the gate, stone stairways wound upward along the cliffs, connecting peak to peak like threads stitching together heaven and earth. Lofty halls crowned the tallest summits, their roofs curved like wings ready to take flight. Occasionally, streaks of light flashed across the sky as cultivators rode flying swords or spirit beasts between peaks.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  Each mountain bore a different aura.

  One peak blazed faintly red, heat rippling above it. Likely the Fire Hall.

  Another shimmered with metallic brilliance, sharp and cutting. Perhaps the Metal Pavilion.

  A serene green peak overflowed with lush vegetation, spiritual herbs growing in terraced gardens. The Alchemy Department, most likely.

  Further inward, towering above all, was a solitary mountain wrapped in swirling clouds that never dispersed. Its summit could not be clearly seen. That, Chen Mo guessed, was where the true core of the sect resided. Inner disciples. Elders. Perhaps even the Sect Master.

  The boat did not head there.

  Instead, it descended toward a broad plateau at the base of the mountain range.

  This was the outer sect area.

  Compared to the lofty inner peaks, it was humbler but still grand by mortal standards. Rows of stone residences lined orderly streets. Training fields spread across open ground where disciples in gray robes practiced sword forms and martial techniques. The sound of clashing blades and shouted techniques echoed faintly in the air.

  Spiritual energy here was thinner than in the higher peaks, yet still far denser than anything in the mortal world.

  When the boat touched down, the recruits stepped onto solid ground.

  Chen Mo felt it instantly.

  The earth itself hummed.

  He looked around, eyes sharp despite the awe that crept into his chest. Even he, who had read countless tales in another life, felt something stir within him.

  This was no novel.

  This was real.

  Li Yuxue stood not far away, her gaze fixed on the higher mountains, where the inner sect peaks pierced the sky. Song Yue had already been summoned away, escorted by a white-robed elder toward one of the loftier paths.

  Different roads had been drawn the moment their hands touched the jade pillar.

  Chen Mo lowered his eyes.

  Menial disciple.

  Outer grounds.

  Five attributes.

  Very well.

  If the heavens had given him a scattered root, then he would learn how to weave chaos into order.

  Above them, the pine trees swayed in the wind, their needles whispering as if amused.

  The immortal world had opened its gates.

  And it did not care who survived within it.

  Within moments, Chen Mo became a shadow.

  Song Yue had been whisked away toward the inner peaks like a crane summoned by destiny. Li Yuxue stood among the outer disciples, already surrounded by curious gazes and whispered admiration. As for him?

  No summons. No instructions. No acknowledgment.

  He stood alone on the edge of the plateau while life moved around him like a river flowing past a stone.

  Invisible.

  Forgotten.

  Chen Mo’s jaw tightened. So this was the five attribute treatment.

  Just as irritation began to simmer, a man in his twenties approached. Plain gray robes. Indifferent eyes. He gave Chen Mo a brief glance and jerked his chin forward.

  “Follow.”

  No courtesy. No explanation.

  Chen Mo followed.

  They walked away from the training grounds and lively streets of the outer sect toward a quieter area tucked against a lower slope. The path grew rougher. The buildings changed.

  Grand stone residences became rows of simple wooden houses. Smoke drifted lazily from a few chimneys. The spiritual energy here felt noticeably thinner, as though the mountains themselves had drawn most of it upward and left scraps behind.

  The man stopped, pointed vaguely ahead, then turned and left without a single word.

  Chen Mo stared at his retreating back.

  “Damn it… really?” he muttered under his breath.

  Before his temper could fully bloom, a dry cough sounded nearby.

  An elderly man in a faded gray robe approached slowly, leaning on a wooden cane. His beard was sparse but neatly combed, his eyes calm and unexpectedly warm.

  “Welcome,” the old man said. “You may call me Old Zhu Morong. I oversee the assignment of menial disciples in this area.”

  Chen Mo quickly suppressed his irritation and bowed.

  “This humble one is Chen Mo.”

  Old Zhu waved a hand lightly. “No need for such formalities. We are all the same here.” His lips curved faintly. “Servants of the sect.”

  There was no bitterness in his voice. Just quiet acceptance.

  “Come,” Old Zhu said, turning. “I will show you your quarters and explain your duties.”

  They walked between the wooden houses. Some doors were closed. From others came the sound of coughing, grinding stones, or the dull thud of wood being chopped.

  “Have you practiced body refining?” Old Zhu asked without looking back.

  Chen Mo nodded. “Yes.”

  “Good,” Old Zhu replied. “Menial chores are not poetry. You will carry water from the lower springs, chop spirit pine, transport materials, clean beast enclosures. Without a tempered body, you would collapse within days.”

  Chen Mo listened carefully.

  “Until you manage to reach the first level of Qi Condensation,” Old Zhu continued, “your body is your only real asset.”

  They stopped before a small wooden house at the edge of the row.

  “This is yours.”

  It was modest. One room. A narrow bed. A wooden table. A small meditation mat in the corner. Through the thin walls, the wind could be heard whispering.

  Chen Mo looked inside silently.

  It was far from glorious.

  Yet it was a foothold.

  “Thank you for your guidance, Old Zhu,” Chen Mo said sincerely. Then he hesitated. “May I ask… can we cultivate here?”

  Old Zhu chuckled softly.

  “Of course you can. If you find the time.” He tapped his cane lightly on the ground. “The sect does not forbid menial disciples from cultivating. It simply does not wait for them.”

  Chen Mo’s eyes sharpened.

  Old Zhu continued, “If you manage to reach the fourth level of Qi Condensation, you will be promoted to the outer sect. From there, your path may widen.”

  He turned his gaze toward the towering peaks in the distance.

  “But do not underestimate the climb. With five attributes…” He paused, then gave Chen Mo a measured look. “Your progress will be slow.”

  Chen Mo smiled faintly.

  Slow.

  Not impossible.

  “Rest tonight,” Old Zhu said. “Your duties begin at dawn.”

  He turned and walked away, cane tapping steadily against the ground.

  Chen Mo stood alone before his wooden house.

  Above him, the inner peaks pierced the sky, shrouded in mist and brilliance.

  Below, the menial area hummed with quiet labor and unspoken resignation.

  He stepped inside.

  Five attributes.

  Menial disciple.

  Outer grounds.

  Chen Mo sat cross legged on the meditation mat, closed his eyes, and drew a slow breath.

  If this sect believed he would remain invisible, then he would grow in silence.

  Pines did not rush toward the heavens.

  They endured.

  And one day, their roots split mountains.