Passing through the shimmering light of the teleportation array, the lofty and chilling feeling of the Sky Sword Peak quietly faded away, replaced by the gentle and comfortable fragrance of spirit herbs.
Ye Chen found himself standing in a vast bamboo forest.
Sunlight filtered through the layered bamboo leaves, casting mottled shadows on the Qingyu Stone-paved path beneath his feet.
As the wind swept over the treetops, the bamboo leaves made a soft “rustling” sound, tranquil and harmonious, soothing the heart.
Deeper within the bamboo forest, elegant courtyards were scattered amidst the greenery, blending seamlessly into the landscape.
This was the Sword Courtyard.
Occasionally, disciples in uniform blue-gray robes hurried past him, some holding sword manuals, others lost in thought, a trace of diligence lingering between their brows.
When they saw Ye Chen, a subtle surprise flashed in their eyes, but it quickly faded as they went on their way, none stepping forward to speak.
A servant disciple responsible for reception had been waiting for him and respectfully led Ye Chen to a separate courtyard.
Pushing open the wooden door, the courtyard inside was small yet exquisite.
An old plum tree, a stone table, several stone stools—simple, yet rich with a sense of Zen.
The main house’s door was half-closed.
Ye Chen stepped in quietly, greeted by a faint scent of sandalwood mixed with the aroma of books.
The room’s furnishings far exceeded his expectations.
The floor was paved with smooth Qingyu Stone, landscape paintings with profound meanings hung on the walls, the table and bed were crafted from fine Ningshen Wood, and even in the corner, a precious piece of Jingxin Incense was burning in the censer.
For a so-called “registered disciple,” such treatment was nothing short of luxurious.
Ye Chen lightly brushed his fingertips across the table, feeling its gentle warmth.
He closed his eyes, and with a slight movement of his spiritual sense, he sensed that while the spiritual energy here wasn’t as pure and ethereal as at the peak, it was thick and substantial, like a jar of aged wine with its own unique flavor.
“Not bad.”
He mused inwardly.
For his current cultivation needs, it was more than sufficient.
Before long, soft footsteps sounded outside the door, and an outer disciple entered, respectfully carrying a wooden tray stacked with neatly folded garments.
“Senior Brother Ye, these are your sect robes.”
It was a Yue White Robe, the fabric soft and smooth, with a delicate Cloud Pattern Ancient Sword embroidered in silver thread at the collar and cuffs.
This was the exclusive emblem of a registered disciple of the Sky Sword Peak—simple, yet stylish.
After the disciple withdrew, Ye Chen changed into the new attire, deciding to familiarize himself with his surroundings first.
The Sword Courtyard had its own dining hall.
When Ye Chen stepped inside, the once lively hall seemed to freeze for an instant.
Dozens of eyes turned simultaneously toward him.
Their focus wasn’t on Ye Chen’s appearance, but on the Yue White Robe he wore, distinct from the rest.
Amid the sea of blue-gray inner court robes, this touch of moon-white was striking—almost glaring.
Ye Chen ignored the attention, calmly finding a corner seat.
Soon, a clever-looking young disciple carrying a meal tray approached, a friendly smile on his face.
“Senior Brother, you look unfamiliar. May I ask your name?”
Ye Chen glanced at him.
“Ye Chen.”
He replied lightly.
“Senior Brother Ye!”
The youth immediately brightened.
“I’m Zhao Ping. Judging by your attire… could you be a newly accepted disciple from one of the main peaks?”
“Sky Sword Peak.”
“Hiss—”
Zhao Ping drew a sharp breath, his expression changing instantly—shock, envy, and a hint of flattery mixing in his gaze.
He lowered his voice, speaking mysteriously.
“Senior Brother—no, Senior Brother Ye, you might not know this, but our Purple Heaven Sword Sect has strict rules!”
Ye Chen raised an eyebrow, signaling him to continue.
Seeing Ye Chen’s interest, Zhao Ping perked up and began speaking rapidly.
“We in these blue-gray robes are all just Neiyuan Disciples. Every ten years, we get a single chance to register for the Seven-Two Peaks Examination. That test is like crossing a single-log bridge amid a sea of soldiers! Only those who pass the first round earn the right to choose a main peak and take the retest.”
He clicked his tongue and went on.
“Passing the retest makes you a registered disciple of that mountain, just like you, Senior Brother! But that’s not all! Afterwards, you still have to wait for a Peak Master or elder to descend and test the registered disciples. Only by passing the Final Test can you become a Core Disciple and enter the true ranks!”
By now, Zhao Ping was dry-mouthed with emotion.
“It’s harder than climbing to the heavens! Especially in the last ten years—the Sky Sword Peak’s test is infamous for being brutal, focusing solely on talent and comprehension, disregarding personal connections. Countless have been eliminated. Senior Brother, you… how did you…”
He didn’t finish the question, but the meaning was clear.
Ye Chen listened to these complicated and almost harsh rules, a faint, ambiguous smile curving his lips, a trace of helplessness in his heart.
This so-called great sect of immortals had inner barriers to cultivation that truly opened his eyes.
Seeing Ye Chen remain silent, Zhao Ping assumed he had a hidden reason and quickly changed the subject, enthusiastically describing the traits of each peak, which elders were kind, which peaks had profitable tasks, and more.
By the end of the meal, Ye Chen had a general understanding of the sect’s inner court.
As they parted, Zhao Ping eagerly pressed a warm, white jade pendant into Ye Chen’s hand.
“Senior Brother Ye, this is a Yuyin Jade Pendant. Just infuse it with a bit of spiritual power, and you can send messages over long distances. If you ever need information, just contact me!”
His ingratiating manner clearly marked Ye Chen as a disciple from a powerful family.
After all, for someone at only the fourth layer of Qi Refinement to become a registered disciple of the Sky Sword Peak was anything but ordinary.
Ye Chen shook his head, offering no explanation.
Sometimes, a misunderstanding was the best disguise.
He accepted the jade pendant and returned to his courtyard.
Night deepened.
Bamboo shadows danced.
Seated cross-legged in the quiet chamber, Ye Chen cleared his mind.
The Wuming Cultivation Method slowly circulated within his body.
The abundant spiritual energy nearby seemed to find an outlet, flowing into his limbs like gentle streams.
The night passed in silence.
Yet, heaven seldom grants peace.
The next morning, just as Ye Chen was immersed in cultivation, a knocking sound shattered the tranquility of the courtyard.
“Knock! Knock! Knock!”
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