Chapter Twenty-One: Becoming a Disciple

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Su Bai hurriedly left with the silver notes in his hand. Though he had escaped danger this time, he reminded himself to remain vigilant in the future to prevent such incidents from happening again.

After Su Bai departed, Cao Wu glanced at him with lowered eyes, said nothing, and simply left. He knew the merchant’s expressions earlier were nothing but a pretense—a mere performance. It was only because Su Bai was young and inexperienced that he agreed so readily. However, Su Bai had no connection to him, so there was no reason to intervene on his behalf.

Meanwhile, Su Bai had finished acquiring the wooden identity token and successfully entered the city. Looking up, he saw it was already noon.

“It’s already late; I’d better find a place to settle down. In a few days, it will be time for the open selection. Hmm… Why does ‘open selection’ sound so odd to me?”

First, Su Bai sought out a noodle shop to finally satisfy his hunger. For days, he had survived on wild fruits or half-charred, half-raw rabbit, growing used to eating coarse fare. Now, even a bowl of beef noodles costing just three copper coins tasted like a delicacy. He devoured three large bowls, only to end up so full that he spent a long time retching in a corner.

Next, he went to a cloth shop to have a set of clothes custom-made, spending several taels of silver with a pang of regret.

Staring ruefully at his dwindling funds, Su Bai muttered, “I strongly suspect that shopkeeper ripped me off on purpose.”

He didn’t linger long outside before returning to the inn to prepare for the Grand Yan Sect’s initiation ceremony three days later.

The next two days passed with ease. Though his meals remained simple, he enjoyed the rare feeling of peace and stability. Dressed in the clothes he’d fetched from the tailor yesterday, he tidied his hair before the bronze mirror, striking a vain pose as he lamented, “It’s a pity my face was marred by that heartless Su—otherwise, I would surely be the dream of countless young maidens.”

Then, his tone shifted. Su Bai’s face grew somber: “Competitors this time come from every corner of the Ming Empire, and it’s inevitable there’ll be officials present—troublesome indeed. The Grand Yan Sect is among my top choices. The trouble is, I have no foundation in the way of formations. How am I supposed to distinguish myself among so many contenders?”

Every ten or twenty years, the great sects would hold recruitment ceremonies, much like modern national college entrance exams. Yet, not all these sects accepted disciples from outside. The seven demonic sects, for example, rarely recruited outsiders; their elite forces were mostly cultivated from childhood, while others were those who had left their own sects to join the demonic path mid-life.

The six great clans were even more insular, unwilling to provoke imperial suspicion by seeming to raise private armies; their formidable troops were almost exclusively clan members.

The nine major guilds were even more complicated. With tens of thousands of members, why were they not as powerful as the Four Academies? The reason was simple: they accepted new members every day, regardless of background, as long as there was profit to be made. Yet few ever reached the summit, and internal strife was constant.

In the end, only the Four Academies, Five Pavilions, and Eight Gates openly recruited new disciples.

Sorting through his thoughts, Su Bai rose resolutely. “No matter what, I have to give it a try. Who knows what my aptitude might be? As for formation skills, I can improve those over time. I doubt the entry requirements are too high.”

Bolstering his own spirits, he set out toward the distant, mist-shrouded mountain gate.

He had already learned the exact location of the Grand Yan Sect through special channels when he first entered the city, and nothing untoward happened on the way.

“Huh? Why is there no one here? Weren’t the days around the tenth of October supposed to be the time? Why isn’t there a single soul?” Su Bai stood not far from the gate, puzzled. “Could there be some formation barring entry? That would be troublesome! And without a guide, how am I supposed to get in?”

Not far ahead, he spotted an old man who looked like a Daoist, likely a sect member.

Amid the swirling mist, an elder could be vaguely seen. His figure was ethereal, his gaze piercing, and his long white hair did not drape over his shoulders but floated in the air, giving him a celestial air.

“He certainly looks powerful, but isn’t this a bit too theatrical?” Su Bai thought to himself.

He walked up to the old man, bowed deeply, and said respectfully, “Senior, I am here to… I mean, I’ve come to take part in the Grand Yan Sect’s initiation ceremony. Might you be able to guide me inside?”

The old Daoist glanced at Su Bai and replied leisurely, “Those participating in the ceremony all have designated guides. You’re young and unaccompanied; I’m afraid you cannot enter.”

“What? Then what are you doing here? Aren’t you the one in charge of guarding the gate and admitting guests?”

The old man replied impatiently, “I’m merely out for a stroll. Why must you bother me, young man, disturbing my peace?”

With those words, and despite Su Bai’s pleas, the old man departed, floating off through the air.

“Damn, seriously? I annoyed him so much he left? Well, it’s only the first day. I’ll just wait here. Anyone else being led in will have to come by this road. I refuse to believe I won’t see anyone.”

Three days later.

“Am I blind, or has the ceremony already happened? Why is there still not a soul here? Was I tricked? I paid five taels of silver, thought it was worth it, but now it seems I was duped. I’ll wait a few more hours, and if nothing changes, I’ll have to seek apprenticeship elsewhere.”

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It was late autumn, and after so many days outside, Su Bai’s face was already pale, his body shivering with cold. To fill his stomach, he had even hunted in the mountains, nearly injuring himself—thankfully, only his only garment was torn by a wild beast. He looked regretfully at his ruined clothes. “Truly a double loss.”

Within the Grand Yan Sect, a middle-aged man respectfully offered tea to a white-bearded elder beside him. “Uncle Master, what brings you here in person? Normally, it’s always the junior disciples who oversee new admissions. Why have you come this year?”

The old man was the very white-robed elder Su Bai had met. “I’ve only recently returned from seclusion and wanted to see if there were any promising seedlings and also check if anything important has happened in the sect.” He set his cup down, continuing, “How did this year’s disciple selection go?”

“Reporting to Uncle Master: this time, we recruited five thousand disciples in total. Of those, about five hundred seem likely to pass the three-year trial and become outer disciples. Roughly one hundred and twenty or thirty are of superior talent, and as for the truly exceptional…”

The elder raised an eyebrow. “Why do you stop?”

“Oh, right… The truly exceptional number… only five. But all five possess top-tier aptitude in both formations and cultivation, so it’s about the same as previous years.” The middle-aged man answered nervously.

“Oh? There are fewer this year.” After a pause, he asked, “Did you see a boy, face covered with scars, about eight or nine years old, here for the initiation?”

“Ah? No, I didn’t see anyone like that. Uncle Master, is he a relative of yours? I will make special efforts to look after him.”

“You said you hadn’t seen him, so there’s no need. Perhaps he gave up.” The elder glanced toward the rear mountain, a vague sense of unease in his heart. Shaking his head, he thought, “I’m getting old and sentimental. If that boy is still waiting out there, perhaps I could be his guide myself.”

Looking up at the sky, Su Bai said, “Seems fate has not brought me to Grand Yan. The nearest is the Jade Azure Guild. Though it’s the weakest of the nine guilds, maybe I can pay someone to get me a spot. If I must, I could swallow poison and hand my life to them for now. As long as I have shelter, there’ll always be a chance to rise again.”

He was just about to leave when he heard a familiar voice behind him. “After all this waiting, are you really going to give up now?”

Excited, Su Bai turned to see the old man smiling at him. “Senior, was this a test, making me wait here?”

Su Bai quickly grasped the situation and asked tentatively, “So have I missed the initiation? Since you’ve come to see me, could you lend me a hand?”

Hopeful at first, Su Bai’s face grew somber as he listened to the latter half. Still, he walked slowly to the elder, stood straight, saluted, and waited for his fate to be decided.

The white-bearded elder nodded at him. “Aptitude is not everything. If you have the will to improve, you can still shine among the thousands.” With that, he produced a testing device.

As Su Bai closed his eyes for the test, the elder’s mind flashed back to a rainy night a hundred and twenty years ago. “Why am I only a third-class talent? There must be something wrong with this device! I refuse to believe it!” He recalled being just as young as Su Bai. The world is not short of talented youths; what is rare is calm in the face of disaster, the patience of a dragon lying dormant, and the tenacity to defy fate.

“Channel a wisp of your internal energy into your palm.”

“Only third-class? No, wait, it’s rising.”

The color paused at green, then, as if spurred on, leapt past yellow to deep red. Just when it seemed to stop, a hint of purple swept through the red like a storm, devouring the crimson light.

Su Bai, eyes tightly closed, did not see the look of astonishment on the elder’s face. “This… this hasn’t appeared in three centuries! Has it finally surfaced again? If so, my own problems are solved as well.”

His gaze on Su Bai became that of someone beholding a priceless treasure, though he quickly masked his expression.

Su Bai slowly opened his left eye in a narrow slit, glancing at the elder, but saw neither excitement nor joy.

Disheartened, Su Bai thought, “So my aptitude is still poor. Time for another plan.” He returned the now-purple stone with an apologetic look. “I’m of mediocre talent, not worthy of you, Senior. If there’s nothing else… I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait!” Xi Menghe quickly stopped him, thinking, “At this point, I can’t let him go.”

He continued, “Just now, you were shown to be second-class talent. Not the very best, but with effort, you could still enter the inner sect. The path of cultivation demands perseverance. Rest assured, I’ll see you into the sect myself.”

“Is that true, Senior?” Su Bai’s joy was immediate, his face beaming.

Xi Menghe stroked his long beard, affecting the air of a master. “I have hundreds of disciples, but my personal disciple’s place is still vacant. Do you… wish to take that seat?” His meaning was clear.

Su Bai understood instantly and did not hesitate. He dropped to his knees and kowtowed. “Master, please accept your disciple—Ming Li.”

Though excited to be accepted as Xi Menghe’s disciple, Su Bai had not forgotten his own sensitive identity, so he used “Ming Li” as an alias.

“Ming Li! A fine name. Who knows, perhaps you are the dawn I have awaited,” Xi Menghe said with deep meaning, but Su Bai, still bowing, did not see the look in his eyes.

“Enough, my good disciple. From today, you will cultivate by my side.” With a single motion, Xi Menghe helped Su Bai to his feet.

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Just as Su Bai was about to express his gratitude, Xi Menghe continued, “However, from now on you must not show your face within the sect, and you are forbidden from participating in any internal competitions. I will choose your residence, and visit you every few days. As long as you follow my instructions, you will surely achieve great things.”

This gave Su Bai pause. Though being a personal disciple offered the benefit of direct guidance, the conditions were perplexing. Still, he didn’t dwell on it. Given his sensitive situation, avoiding the spotlight was actually quite suitable.

He agreed after only a brief hesitation, and Xi Menghe was pleased.

“Good disciple! Trust your master; as long as you listen, you will not suffer. Hahaha!” Xi Menghe’s face creased into deep furrows as he laughed.

With his calloused hands, he took Su Bai’s left hand and led him toward the mountain gate. “Come, let me show you your new home.”

Twilight had quietly fallen. Su Bai looked up at the darkening sky, the setting sun painting the heavens red.

Clenching his right fist, he swore silently, “Having survived this disaster, it won’t be so easy for anyone to kill me again. My fate is mine to seize—no one else’s.”

Xuan Night Division—Hall of Profound Mysteries

Behind the Sirius Throne stood a black qilin carving. Upon the throne sat a man with ink-blue hair, dressed in dark robes trimmed with red, turning a jade ring on his finger, still stained with traces of dried blood.

His lips parted, his tone icy. “You say this ring glowed red, yet now there is no sign at all. Why is that?”

Under his gaze, the man below broke into a cold sweat and stammered, “It… it may require the blood of a Su clan member to activate, perhaps.”

“Then why, even when the blood was drained, is there still no effect?” Hua Wenkai’s eyes flashed cold as he asked softly.

“Subordinate… truly does not know!” An Hu pleaded, his head bobbing in terror. “Please, my lord, give me a chance to redeem myself! I will capture Su Bai and bring him to you.”

“No need for redemption. That Su brat, now that he’s escaped, will be hard to track down. The empire is vast—even in a year or two, you might not find him.” Hua Wenkai flicked his folding fan and continued, “I recall you only joined the Embroidered Guard because you had nowhere else to turn.”

“You are right, my lord,” An Hu replied, trembling, terrified of saying the wrong thing and incurring Hua Wenkai’s wrath.

“In that case, I’ll simply return you to your former life.”

Hearing this, An Hu began to kowtow again, begging, “My lord, I may be of humble origin, but I have served you faithfully in the Embroidered Guard for many years. Even if I have no merits, I have worked hard. Please, spare me!”

Hua Wenkai realized An Hu had misunderstood, and was amused by the sight of his bloodied forehead. “When did I say I was going to kill you?”

An Hu’s head froze mid-bow. He understood that Hua Wenkai had a task for him, and quickly vowed, “My lord, rest assured! No matter what it is, I, An Hu, will see it done perfectly.”

Hua Wenkai chuckled, “It’s not a small task, but not a great one either. But after this, your name will be erased from the Embroidered Guard’s records. You will no longer have that identity. Are you willing?”

He added, “I know you have a wife and child now; you don’t have to do this. But if you refuse, you and your family will be executed tomorrow.”

An Hu bowed low. “I understand, my lord.”

The next day, at three-quarters past noon.

“Time’s up. Carry out the sentence!” In the harsh midday sun, the executioner picked up the order token and cast it to the ground.

At the signal, a three-and-a-half-foot long nine-ringed saber fell. The head flew, blood spattering everywhere. The condemned’s face was covered, so even close by, no one could tell who it was.

Calmly, the executioner struck An Hu’s name from the register.

Meanwhile, a burly man watched from afar with a spyglass, silently observing all.

He recalled what his commander had said before leaving: “I’ll find a safe place for your wife and daughter. You needn’t worry about their lives. As for you, follow the instructions in this letter. When the time comes, someone will contact you.”