Chapter Eighteen: Troubles at the Initiation Ceremony

Zhen Heaven Peak!

At the summit stretched a vast, boundless plaza, where a statue soared a hundred zhang into the air. It depicted an elderly man, hair as white as snow but features youthful, and beneath the statue, the stone stele bore three grand, imposing characters: Tianhai Sect.

Within the pavilion, Elder Qingyang sat cross-legged in deep meditation, his eyes closed like a venerable monk. Behind him sat three graceful young women—Su Yu, Su Yao, and Han Ling’er—their posture dignified and serene.

Outside the pavilion, atop an ancient pine, Yan Longyuan stood on a branch, gazing out at the distant sea of clouds, seemingly lost in deep thought. Beneath the pine, Sikong Xuan sat with legs folded, his tall, upright form emanating a faint, thunderous power.

“Let’s go see the new disciples who joined this year. I heard there are several prodigies among them—even the elders can’t stop praising them.”

From every direction, disciples were already converging upon the plaza, many exuding intimidating auras. None of them had appeared the previous day—for they had all once braved the Hundred Thousand Steps and did not believe anyone could complete the climb in a single day.

“Come on, the elder is over there.” Soon enough, many disciples of the Tianhai Sect arrived at the pavilion to pay their respects to Elder Qingyang. He gave no response, but the disciples seemed quite used to this.

“Senior Sister Su Yu, how many have passed the test so far this year?” As Elder Qingyang ignored them, the disciples crowded around Su Yu, Su Yao, and Han Ling’er, many of the male disciples wearing looks of admiration. After all, beautiful women are always popular, and these three, each with unique charms, were nothing short of breathtaking.

“Two. So far, only two have passed. Over there.” Su Yu’s gentle voice accompanied her slender finger pointing toward the ancient pine beside the Hundred Thousand Steps.

“What are you doing gathered here? The people are over there.” Han Ling’er’s voice was icy cold, her expression forbidding, a chill radiating from her presence that made several male disciples instinctively step back. They knew she was a rose with thorns—one not easily handled.

Because of Han Ling’er, the crowd awkwardly turned their gaze toward the ancient pine, where indeed two figures could be seen: one standing on the pine, one sitting cross-legged beneath it.

As all eyes turned their way, the two looked back, their eyes carrying a transcendent air that drew glances even from the female disciples.

Some veteran disciples, uncomfortable with the newcomers’ aloof pride, muttered, “What’s with the attitude? Just a bunch of rookies, can’t even greet their seniors. Only two have passed so far—what a disappointment this year’s batch is.”

“Not two, but three.”

Just then, a voice sounded from the foot of the steps. The echoing footsteps silenced the crowd, and all eyes turned toward the steps—even Sikong Xuan and Yan Longyuan looked over in surprise, not expecting anyone else to reach the summit today.

Amidst the scrutiny, a bloodstained figure appeared, dragging his heavy steps up from below. With each stride, he left a crimson footprint, yet his face still wore a devilish, twisted smile.

“It’s him. He actually made it up so quickly.” Su Yu could hardly believe it; the blood-drenched figure was the very one she had seen in the elder’s jade mirror.

And it wasn’t just Su Yu—all eyes were glued to this battered figure. Such a dramatic entrance was surely the most bedraggled in the history of the Tianhai Sect’s entrance trials.

As the crowd stared at Luo Hao, Su Yao suddenly ran up to him. Luo Hao’s spirits lifted—this beauty was certainly trouble incarnate. Could it be his luck had finally turned, and she was throwing herself into his arms?

Just as he waited to see what she would do next, Su Yao circled him and said, “Strange. He’s only at the fifth level of Qi Spirit—how could he possibly have passed the Hundred Thousand Steps so quickly? Did the steps malfunction?”

“What? Fifth level of Qi Spirit? Impossible!”

“The steps must’ve stopped working. That has to be a joke!”

“Yeah, back when I did it, I was dead on my feet by the time I made it up.”

Su Yao’s words sent the disciples into heated discussion, but now their gazes toward Luo Hao were different. Even Yan Longyuan and Sikong Xuan were astonished. They had only passed so swiftly due to their formidable cultivation and advanced techniques.

“No way. Even someone at the eighth level of Qi Spirit would struggle to climb the hundred thousand steps so quickly. This guy must have some powerful artifact helping him. Yes, that must be it.”

Many could not fathom how a fifth-level Qi Spirit cultivator could ascend so quickly. The only explanation was a rare treasure—after all, the assessment had no rules against using artifacts. This way, they could maintain a semblance of dignity.

“A treasure?”

Hearing the murmurs, Luo Hao could only smile bitterly to himself. With his tattered clothing, what treasures could he possibly possess? If anything, it was the ancient mirror in his dantian—but the mirror seemed to have a mind of its own, ignoring his will entirely.

He offered no explanation to the crowd, simply heading into the pavilion. His body was racked with pain, bones nearly falling apart, and his spirit utterly weary. He slumped into a seat, then turned and said, “Old man, mind if I sit here?”

The old man, naturally, was Elder Qingyang. He merely opened his eyes to glance at Luo Hao, then closed them again. Behind him, Han Ling’er and Su Yu were shocked by Luo Hao’s audacity.

Brother, the “old man” you’re addressing is the head of Tianhai Sect’s Discipline Hall—one of the most powerful figures in the sect. Even Su Yu, Han Ling’er, and the disciples outside the pavilion, regardless of gender, swallowed nervously, thinking this boy was in for trouble.

“Where did this little bastard come from? Seeing an elder of the Tianhai Sect, you don’t know your place and dare to sit as his equal?” Before Luo Hao had even warmed his seat, a thunderous shout made him frown. He was startled to realize this old man was a Tianhai Sect elder and was about to rise and pay his respects, but the scolding voice instantly fueled his defiance.

“Get up! Get up!” Su Yu hissed behind him, but Luo Hao didn’t budge, remaining rooted to the spot.

Soon, the crowd parted as a figure strode through, tall and imposing, dressed in a purple robe, his cold face marked with disdain, eyes locked on Luo Hao in the pavilion.

“It’s Wei Wuyai of the Ziwei Pavilion—one of last year’s most gifted new disciples. I hear he’s already at the ninth level of Qi Spirit, and soon he’ll break through to the Blood Condensation stage.” Many disciples, seeing Wei Wuyai, made way with respect.

Wei Wuyai entered the pavilion, first bowing to Elder Qingyang, then facing Luo Hao with contempt. “A mere fifth-level Qi Spirit cultivator managing to pass the Hundred Thousand Steps? Judging by your rags, you can’t possibly possess any treasures—you must have cheated. And you dare sit as an equal to an elder in the Tianhai Sect? Who do you think you are?”

His words were as sharp as knives. He then turned to the crowd, saying, “New disciples, remember: the Tianhai Sect is not a place for insolence. Don’t let a little talent go to your head.”

His domineering tone made many uncomfortable, even the three young women frowned slightly, and among the onlookers, faces darkened.

“You’re noisy. Are you done? If so, get lost!” Luo Hao’s retort made Wei Wuyai whirl around, his face so dark it seemed about to drip water, murderous intent blazing in his eyes, his intimidating aura barely suppressed.

Luo Hao rose, gaze like lightning, meeting Wei Wuyai’s stare without the slightest fear. “I’m sitting here and the elder hasn’t said a word. You, a mere disciple, dare to criticize me? And just who do you think you are, to pass judgment on me?”

Every word struck home, and Wei Wuyai’s face twisted with rage. The entire plaza fell silent, every eye fixed on them in shock.

“Is this guy insane? He’s actually provoking Wei Wuyai,” Su Yao thought to herself, shuddering as she imagined Luo Hao’s fate.

“Well, well, well. Looks like I’ll have to teach you, a cheater, a lesson. Dare to fight me on the Life-and-Death Stage?” Wei Wuyai, driven to fury, was ready to kill. With his reputation at stake, he had to make an example of Luo Hao.

“The Life-and-Death Stage? Seems you’re eager to die. I accept.”

The ninth level of Qi Spirit was formidable, but Luo Hao was no pushover. He would make Wei Wuyai pay the price for provoking him. As soon as the words left his mouth, the crowd erupted in uproar.

“To be fair, I’ll give you seven days to prepare.”

“No need for seven days. One night is enough. Tomorrow, on the Life-and-Death Stage, we’ll settle this.”

Perhaps the chilling aura of the ancient corpse had left a mark on him, for Luo Hao’s words carried an edge of murderous intent that gave Wei Wuyai pause. The scene erupted into chaos.

Elder Qingyang merely opened his eyes to glance at them, showing no intention of intervening. In no time, word spread throughout the Tianhai Sect: a newly admitted disciple would face Wei Wuyai of the Ziwei Pavilion, ninth level of Qi Spirit, in a duel to the death on the Life-and-Death Stage.