**Chapter 5: Last Place at the Recruitment Ceremony**
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The spiritual assessment was held in the martial arena behind the City Lord’s Manor.
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Gu Xiao stood in the crowd, listening to the youths around him chatter. Some said over three hundred were taking the trials, with fewer than thirty ultimately accepted. Others said the Azure Cloud Sect had sent an inner disciple, Senior Brother Chen, to oversee the assessment—a cultivator at the late Foundation Establishment stage, ranking among the top fifty in the sect. And then there were whispers about a Heavenly Spiritual Root candidate this year who would be admitted directly, exempt from all testing.
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Gu Xiao said nothing. He was just running the numbers in his head: three hundred candidates, thirty spots. One in ten. At Qi Condensation Stage One with a Yellow root, he was likely among the very bottom of the pile.
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The rules were simple. A ten-zhang diameter circle was painted in the center of the arena. Two entrants stepped in to spar. Victory was decided by three conditions: being forced to the ground, pushed out of the ring, or yielding. Each candidate had three matches. Win one, earn a point. The top thirty scorers would be accepted.
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Gu Xiao’s first opponent was a youth at Qi Condensation Stage Four, possessing a Profound spiritual root, wielding a decent iron sword. The boy glanced at Gu Xiao, the corner of his mouth twitching. Gu Xiao recognized that expression instantly—the familiar disdain of *“What are you even doing here?”*
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The moment the match began, the youth thrust his sword forward. Faint cyan spiritual energy clung to the blade. It wasn’t fast, but to Gu Xiao at Stage One, it was already a blur.
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He didn’t block. He sidestepped, letting the blade whistle past his ear, and simultaneously grabbed the youth’s wrist, attempting to throw him. It was a beast-hunting technique his father had taught him: when facing a stronger opponent, don’t clash head-on. Use their force against them.
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But the youth reacted far quicker. Channeling Stage Four spiritual energy through his body, his strength far exceeded Gu Xiao’s expectations. Not only did Gu Xiao fail to throw him, he was shaken off by a counter-force, stumbling backward three steps before his heel barely caught the edge of the circle.
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The youth didn’t give him room to breathe. A second strike swept horizontally, carrying a sharp gust of wind. Gu Xiao had nowhere to dodge. He could only raise his hunting knife to parry.
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Steel met steel. Gu Xiao’s webbing split instantly. The knife flew from his grip, clattering to the ground. The force of the impact sent him flying backward, crashing heavily outside the ring.
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The arena fell silent for a moment, then a few sneers echoed.
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“Stage One dares to fight?”
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“Who said he got special permission to test? This is what ‘special’ looks like?”
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“Yellow root? Figures. The lowest grade. What waves could he possibly make?”
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Gu Xiao lay on the ground, palms scraped raw, knees bruised against the stone. The pain was sharp. He didn’t look up. Slowly, he pushed himself up, retrieved his knife, and walked back to the sidelines.
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First match. Lost.
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Second opponent: Stage Three. Weaker than the first, but still far beyond him. Gu Xiao lasted five breaths this time before being pushed out of the ring by a palm strike.
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Third opponent: Stage Three. Three breaths.
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Three chances. Three losses. Zero points.
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Gu Xiao stood at the edge of the arena, watching the victors congratulate each other while the defeated slipped away quietly. His palms bled. His trousers were torn at the knee, revealing raw, bleeding skin beneath. His expression was calm. Too calm for a fifteen-year-old.
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He didn’t cry. Didn’t rage. Didn’t even feel disappointed. Because he’d known the outcome from the start. Stage One versus Stage Three. Yellow root against Profound and Earth roots. He had zero chance. He hadn’t come to win. He’d come because he had to try. Like a drowning man reaching for a single reed.
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The reed snapped. But he was still alive. Still breathing. Still figuring out what to do next.
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The crowd gradually dispersed. Gu Xiao crouched in a corner of the arena, wrapping his injured palms with torn strips of cloth. His bundle lay at his feet, holding over twenty taels of silver. Enough to survive in Qingmu City a while longer. But he didn’t know where to go next. Back to Peaceful Inn? Continue as a rogue cultivator? Spend his silver on the cheapest manual available, then hide in the mountains for decades?
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Decades later, would Lun Hua even still be around? Even if he was, could a Yellow-root rogue cultivator ever reach Foundation Establishment peak?
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He didn’t know.
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“Your name is Gu Xiao?”
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A voice came from above. Gu Xiao looked up, squinting against the bright sun. A young man stood before him, around twenty-seven or twenty-eight, wearing a long cyan robe, a silver belt at his waist, and an Azure Cloud embroidery on his chest. The mark of an Azure Cloud Sect inner disciple.
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Gu Xiao recognized him. The chief examiner for this recruitment ceremony. Inner disciple Chen Yuan. The “Senior Brother Chen” everyone had been talking about.
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“Yes.” Gu Xiao stood.
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Chen Yuan looked at him, his gaze lingering for a moment on the cloth-wrapped hands, then moving to his face. There was no disdain in his eyes. No pity. Only assessment. Like an old hunter evaluating a young beast, judging whether its bones were tough enough to survive the winter.
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“Stage One. Yellow root. Three losses.” Chen Yuan said. “Do you know where you rank among all the candidates today?”
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Gu Xiao shook his head.
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“Last place.” Chen Yuan’s tone was flat. Not mocking. Just stating a fact. “Out of three hundred and twelve, you’re three hundred and twelve. The very bottom.”
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Gu Xiao said nothing.
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“But you’re also the only one who finished all three matches, knowing full well you’d lose.” Chen Yuan paused. “After the first two losses, most people just forfeit the third. You didn’t.”
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“Forfeiting means zero chance,” Gu Xiao said.
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“You never had a chance to begin with,” Chen Yuan replied. “You knew that.”
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Gu Xiao fell silent for a moment, then nodded.
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Chen Yuan studied him, then suddenly smiled. It was a faint smile, like a breeze skimming across a lake, leaving only a single ripple before vanishing. He reached into his sleeve and handed Gu Xiao something.
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It was a wooden token. Palm-sized. On the front was carved a single character: *Miscellaneous*. On the back, three smaller characters: *Azure Cloud Sect*.
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“The Azure Cloud Sect recruits miscellaneous servants for the outer court. Five-year terms.” Chen Yuan said. “Room and board provided. Two low-grade spirit stones per month. After five years, if you break through to Qi Condensation Stage Six or higher, you can apply to transfer to outer disciple status.”
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Gu Xiao took the token, turning it over twice. It was light. The surface was rough, clearly carved from scrap wood. But the characters were engraved with care. Every stroke deliberate.
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“Miscellaneous servant?” he repeated.
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“Sweeping floors. Chopping wood. Hauling supplies. Running errands.” Chen Yuan said. “One tier below outer disciples, but better than being a rogue cultivator. At least you’ll have manuals to study, spirit stones to earn, and seniors to ask for guidance.” He looked at Gu Xiao. “Of course, you can refuse. Go back to Qingmu City, stay a rogue, spend your twenty-odd taels on a street-stall manual, and spend thirty years trying to reach Stage Six—if you live that long.”
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Gu Xiao gripped the token tightly.
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Chen Yuan was right. This was his only path. He’d done the math. Advancing from Yellow to Profound root required “Earth Vein Essence,” a heavenly material, to be used alongside *The Nirvana Spirit-Exchange Art*. He’d checked the market in Qingmu City. The lowest price for Earth Vein Essence was five hundred low-grade spirit stones. As a rogue cultivator, hunting, gathering herbs, taking mercenary jobs, he’d be lucky to save five stones a year. One hundred years. He’d need a century to save up.
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In a hundred years, Lun Hua would either have ascended, been killed by someone else, or died of old age. Whichever it was, Gu Xiao would never get his revenge.
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But as an Azure Cloud Sect miscellaneous servant: two low-grade stones a month. Over five years, one hundred twenty stones. With room and board covered, if he lived frugally, he could save around a hundred. Still far from five hundred—but at least he’d be inside a sect. He’d have a path upward. He’d have hope.
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“I accept,” Gu Xiao said.
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Chen Yuan nodded, as if he’d already known the answer. He turned and walked toward the arena exit, tossing a single sentence over his shoulder: “Follow me. The spirit boat is waiting outside the city.”
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The Azure Cloud Sect’s spirit boat rested on a clearing just beyond Qingmu City.
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Gu Xiao had never seen anything like it. Twenty zhang long, its hull crafted from a silver-tinged wood, lined on both sides with glowing blue spiritual arrays. The surface was covered in dense formation runes, resembling a slumbering dragon.
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Chen Yuan led him and thirty other successfully assessed new disciples aboard. All thirty were at least Stage Four, with Profound roots as their lowest grade. Their glances at Gu Xiao varied—curiosity, disdain, indifference. But no one spoke to him. A Stage One Yellow-root servant wasn’t worth the breath.
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Gu Xiao found a corner seat, hugged his bundle to his chest, and closed his eyes.
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When the spirit boat lifted off, wind howled past his ears. He opened his eyes and watched Qingmu City shrink beneath him, shrinking to the size of a palm, then vanishing beneath the clouds. Mountains rolled like waves, rivers traced silver lines, and the heavens and earth unfolded endlessly before him.
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He had never flown this high.
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The boat flew for a full day. By dusk, a majestic mountain range appeared on the horizon. It stretched endlessly, its main peak piercing the clouds, its upper slopes perpetually shrouded in mist, with pavilions and towers faintly visible among the peaks. At the foot of the mountain stood a massive stone stele, carved with three large characters: *Azure Cloud Sect*.
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The spirit boat landed on a platform before the mountain gates. The platform was vast enough to hold thousands, paved with neat green stone. On either side stood towering stone pillars, carved with azure clouds and cranes. Dozens of cyan-robed disciples stood along the edges, curiously observing the newcomers.
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Chen Yuan handed the thirty new disciples over to the outer court steward, then led Gu Xiao in another direction.
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“Outer disciples live on the East Peak. Servants live on the West Peak.” Chen Yuan said as they walked. “Conditions on the West Peak are worse, but everything you need is there. Once you arrive, report to the Servant Quarters. They’ll assign you lodging and duties.”
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“Thank you, Senior Brother Chen,” Gu Xiao said.
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Chen Yuan paused, glancing back at him. There was something in his eyes Gu Xiao couldn’t quite read. Nostalgia, perhaps. Or regret.
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“Do you know why I’m helping you?” Chen Yuan asked.
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Gu Xiao shook his head.
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“Because ten years ago, I was also a Yellow root.” Chen Yuan said. “I also started as a servant. Spent five years breaking through to Stage Six, then transferred to outer disciple. Took three more years to reach Foundation Establishment and enter the inner court.” He met Gu Xiao’s eyes. “When I took the recruitment trial back then, I was also Stage One. The examiner granted me special permission to test. Just like you today.”
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Gu Xiao was stunned.
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“A senior brother gave me a servant token back then,” Chen Yuan said. “Now, I’m passing it to you.”
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He turned and continued walking. After a few steps, he added: “A Yellow root isn’t a dead end. Just slower. As long as you don’t stop, you’ll get there eventually.”
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Gu Xiao tightened his grip on the token, saying nothing.
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The West Peak servant quarters were a row of low stone huts, built on a flat stretch halfway up the mountain. Backed by cliffs, facing a valley, the view was decent—endless peaks and a sea of clouds below. But up close, the walls were thick with moss, the thatched roofs had several gaping holes, and the paint on the doors and windows had peeled away in large patches, revealing gray wood beneath.
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The servant quarters steward was a portly middle-aged man, early Foundation Establishment stage, surnamed Zhou. Everyone called him Steward Zhou. He sized Gu Xiao up, rummaged through a drawer, and tossed him a rusty key.
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“Last room on the left, against the cliff.” Steward Zhou yawned. “Up at dawn tomorrow. Chop wood in the firewood yard. Then help in the dining hall. Afternoon, pick up your manual from the Archive Pavilion. Evening, sweep the courtyard. Only then can you rest.”
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Gu Xiao took the key and found his room.
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Pushing the door open, a wave of musty air hit him. The room was small, about one zhang square. Inside: a wooden plank bed, a stone table missing a leg, a rickety wooden chair. The bed held only a thin layer of straw. No blankets. Cobwebs clung to the corners. The window paper was torn in several places, letting in the mountain wind, which whistled through the gaps.
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Gu Xiao stood in the doorway for a moment, then stepped inside, placing his bundle on the bed.
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Worse than the communal room at Peaceful Inn. But it was his room. His alone.
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He pulled out a spare coarse cloth shirt from his bundle, spread it over the straw as a mattress, and used his bundle as a pillow. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, closed his eyes, and began circulating the *Qi-Guiding Art*.
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Spiritual energy flowed from his root, tracing a slow path through his meridians. The ambient energy on the mountain was far denser than in the lowlands. He could clearly feel the warmth each wisp brought as it entered his body. Though his Yellow root’s absorption rate was still low, in this energy-rich environment, his cultivation speed had more than doubled.
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He completed three full cycles, then lay down as exhaustion overtook him, falling asleep.
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The next day, Gu Xiao rose at dawn, chopped wood, helped in the kitchen, and swept the grounds.
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In the afternoon, he went to the Archive Pavilion to claim his manual.
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The Archive Pavilion stood in the valley between the East and West Peaks, a three-story wooden building. Outer disciples could access the first floor, inner disciples the second, elders the third. Servants had no entry rights. They could only collect the most basic manuals from the exchange booth outside.
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The exchange booth was a small stone pavilion. Inside sat an elderly man with white hair, eyes closed, seemingly dozing. Gu Xiao stepped forward and presented his servant token.
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The old man opened one eye, glanced at him, then closed it again. He reached into a cabinet behind him, pulled out a thin booklet, and tossed it onto the stone desk.
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*Azure Cloud Qi-Guiding Art.*
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Gu Xiao flipped through it. It was a foundational Qi Condensation manual, far more refined than the one he’d practiced before. Though both drew spiritual energy into the body, the *Azure Cloud* version used more complex meridian pathways, but boasted significantly higher conversion efficiency. He estimated it would boost his cultivation speed by at least thirty percent.
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“Thank you, Senior,” Gu Xiao said.
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The old man ignored him.
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Gu Xiao glanced at a large notice board posted beside the pavilion. It was densely packed with exchange rates for various items: pills, artifacts, manuals, heavenly materials. Each listed with the required contribution points.
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His eyes swept over the numbers, then locked onto one line.
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*“Earth Vein Essence — 500 Contribution Points (or 500 Low-Grade Spirit Stones).”*
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Five hundred.
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Gu Xiao ran the numbers in his head again. Servants earned two low-grade stones a month. Saving every single one: twenty-four a year. One hundred twenty over five years. But he couldn’t save it all. He’d need food, medicine, emergencies. Even if he lived like a monk, he’d barely save a hundred in five years. Still far from five hundred.
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Contribution points. He needed contribution points. The notice stated that completing sect missions earned them. Servants had few eligible missions, and the rewards were low—but he could take on extra duties. Sweeping, chopping wood, kitchen help. If he scheduled them tightly and Steward Zhou turned a blind eye, he could earn around ten points a month.
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One hundred twenty points a year. Six hundred in five years.
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Enough.
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As long as he worked without rest, in five years, he’d accumulate enough points to trade for Earth Vein Essence, advancing his Yellow root to Profound. Then he’d continue cultivating, continue saving, continue advancing. Profound to Earth required “Earth Marrow Essence,” costing at least three times as much. Earth to Heaven required “Heavenly Dew Flower.” Heaven to Immortal required “Immortal Root Filaments.” Immortal to Divine required “Unspoken.”
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The road was long. But he was already on it.
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Gu Xiao tucked the *Azure Cloud Qi-Guiding Art* into his robes and turned to leave.
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By the time he returned to the West Peak, dusk was falling. He stood outside his dilapidated stone hut, watching the sea of clouds turn gold and crimson in the sunset. The mountain wind blew, carrying the scent of pine resin and damp earth.
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He suddenly remembered that terrible poem he’d recited on the mountain.
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*Leaving my homeland alone, ten thousand mountains lie ahead.*
*No blade in hand, only cold blood in my heart.*
*Grass grows on my elders’ graves, my mother’s face lingers in dreams.*
*When I reach the azure clouds, I’ll draw my sword and cut Lun down.*
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The poem was still terrible. But he was already on Azure Cloud Mountain.
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Even if only as a servant. Even if living in a broken hut. Even if his Stage One cultivation made him less than an ant in the sect’s eyes.
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He had arrived.
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Gu Xiao pushed the door open, stepped into the musty stone room, sat on the straw-covered plank bed, and opened the first page of the *Azure Cloud Qi-Guiding Art*.
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Spiritual energy flowed from his root, tracing the new meridian pathways. The conversion efficiency had indeed improved. He could feel every wisp being utilized more thoroughly. The misty spiritual power in his dantian was slightly denser than yesterday. Barely noticeable, but undeniably growing.
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He closed his eyes, focusing on circulating the technique.
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One cycle. Two. Three.
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Outside, the moon rose over the mountain ridge. Cold moonlight filtered through the torn window paper, falling on his face. His brows were slightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a tight line, as if bearing some silent, heavy weight.
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But his hands were steady.
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Spread across his knees, the pages of the *Azure Cloud Qi-Guiding Art* fluttered gently in the mountain wind. On the first page, a line of small text read:
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*“Three thousand Great Daos, all paths lead to the same destination. Only the unyielding shall reach the Dao.”*
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Gu Xiao didn’t know how long this road would take. Five years. Ten. Fifty. He didn’t know.
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But he knew one thing—
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He would not stop.
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*(End of Chapter 5)*31Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXXZYoyYuu3
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