The first light of dawn broke, blurring the boundary between sky and mountain, all shrouded in a thin layer of violet mist.
The ancient bluestone path leading to the Zixiao Mountain Gate wound upward, the air filled with the unique scent of the mountains.
Ye Chen and Xiaoxiao walked one after the other, their footsteps echoing clearly through the forest.
“Young Master, are we… almost there?”
Her voice carried a hint of uncertainty, and an uncontrollable hope.
Ye Chen stopped, turned to look at her.
He didn’t answer directly, only pointed at the mountain pass ahead, veiled in mist.
“Once we cross there, we should be able to see it.”
He said.
When they finally rounded the last cliff, the sight before them made Xiaoxiao hold her breath.
The all-encompassing mist had been torn open here, leaving a massive gap.
Beyond it, no longer forest, but a vast white jade plaza stretched out as far as the eye could see.
At its far end, a towering mountain gate soared into the clouds, the plaque inscribed with four ancient characters: “Zixiao Sword Sect”, each stroke shining faintly under the sunlight.
But what shocked Xiaoxiao most was the crowd covering the plaza…
People.
The clamor of voices, the clash of weapons, the low roars of Ling Beasts…
Countless sounds merged into a wave of noise, sweeping away all mountain tranquility in an instant.
In the air, unfamiliar energies mixed, making her uncomfortable.
The oppressive force from this sea of people was a hundred, a thousand times more overwhelming than the busiest festival in Qingyang City.
Xiaoxiao’s face turned pale.
She instinctively gripped Ye Chen’s sleeve, her fingers white with tension.
She felt like a drop of water about to be swept into a surging ocean, swallowed at any moment.
Ye Chen sensed the stiffness in her body.
He stepped sideways, shielding her from the brunt of the crowd with his own body.
“Too many people. Let’s rest under that tree.”
He spoke calmly.
He led her through the crowd at a steady pace, reaching the edge of the plaza beneath a massive old banyan tree.
It was quieter here, allowing a full view of the plaza and the conversations around them.
Not far away, a group had gathered.
“Master Sun, you’re here again?”
A young nobleman in embroidered robes, a jade sword at his waist, addressed an old man with a weathered face.
There was a familiar teasing in his tone.
“This must be the fifth time, right? Are you planning to wear down the Zixiao Sword Sect’s threshold?”
The old man called Master Sun grinned, revealing yellowed teeth.
“Young Master Wei jests. This old bag of bones just wants to chase a bit more immortality before entering the earth. But as for you, with the Wei Family sending you, it seems you’re aiming for an Inner Sect disciple slot?”
Young Master Wei lifted his chin proudly.
“Of course! My third uncle said with my talent, as long as nothing goes wrong, passing the Thousand-Step Reassessment Line should be no problem. Then, if I can become a disciple under Qingyu Elder of Tianjian Peak, the Wei Family’s name won’t be shamed.”
Beside them, a girl about fifteen or sixteen, her hair in double buns, nervously twisted the corner of her clothes.
Hearing their conversation, she couldn’t help but ask softly.
“Seniors… the three thousand Ask-the-Heart Steps, are they really that hard? I… I just want to be an Outer Sect Disciple.”
Master Sun glanced at her, his expression softening.
He sighed.
“First time, little girl? The Ask-the-Heart Steps test the heart, the bones, and the will. Five Hundred Steps doesn’t sound like much, but the pressure increases with every step. Those with weak hearts can’t get past a hundred before falling.
If your spiritual power is unstable, two hundred is the limit. To reach the Five Hundred Steps… barely one in ten survives.”
The girl’s face instantly went white.
Young Master Wei snorted dismissively.
“It’s just a means to weed out mediocrity. What truly determines the future is the Inner Sect retest beyond that. I hear the Qingyun Holy Land sent disciples to observe this year. I can’t embarrass myself in front of them.”
“Qingyun Holy Land?”
A sharp glint flashed in Master Sun’s clouded eyes.
“They’re a sect on the Northern Continent, equal to our Zixiao Sword Sect. Why have they come?”
“Probably for the upcoming Great Sect Tournament,”
Young Master Wei shrugged.
“That’s what my father said. Either way, today, we have to show them that the geniuses of Zixiao Sword Sect are second to none!”
Every word of their conversation fell clearly into Xiaoxiao’s ears.
“Qingyun Holy Land…”
She unconsciously murmured the name, remembering that Xiao Liuli had joined the Qingyun Holy Land.
So, this place Young Master brought her to was as powerful as those celestial sects.
A deep sense of inferiority drowned her.
She looked around—at the proud Young Master Wei, the formidable Master Sun, even the nervous little girl.
They were all cultivators.
And herself?
Just a mortal, unable to sense spiritual energy at all.
Standing here, she felt completely out of place.
What right did she have to stay here?
What right to remain by Young Master’s side?
Xiaoxiao’s hand loosened from Ye Chen’s sleeve without realizing it.
Lost in her thoughts, almost crushed by her own doubts, a gentle touch landed on her head.
Startled, she looked up.
Ye Chen had turned, and his hand softly ruffled her hair.
His touch was gentle, his eyes calm, holding neither blame nor unnecessary emotion.
“It’s all right.”
He spoke.
His voice wasn’t loud, but it rippled through Xiaoxiao’s heart, soothing all her unease.
“I’m here.”
A simple sentence, yet it nearly brought tears to her eyes.
She nodded fiercely and grabbed his sleeve again, unwilling to let go.
At that moment—
Dong—!
A deep, distant bell echoed from the mountain peak, striking directly into every soul.
The roar of thousands vanished in an instant.
All heads turned upward in unison.
Three streams of light fell from the sea of clouds, hovering above the plaza.
Three elders in Zixiao Sect robes—two men, one woman—stood there, their presence vast and daunting.
The lead woman’s face was cold, her phoenix eyes sweeping the crowd.
No one dared meet her gaze.
She wasted no words—just lifted her hand.
Space itself tore open before her, forming a silent, black rift.
It widened swiftly, transforming into a ten-zhang-tall, circular gate of light.
Within the gate, a deep starry sky spread out, a white jade staircase stretching endlessly upward into clouds, radiating an ancient, boundless aura.
The woman’s clear voice echoed across the entire plaza.
“The three thousand Ask-the-Heart Steps are open.”
“Those below Foundation Establishment, enter.”
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