Chapter Eight: The Testing Turmoil (Part One)

Mount Moonwatch stood with overwhelming grandeur, its endless ridges stretching as far as the eye could see, leaving no one able to tell just how vast or long the range truly was. At the foot of the mountain lay a clearing, tens of thousands of meters wide, as if cleaved by some celestial hand. On its surface, countless people had already gathered, densely packed, their numbers seeming to fade into infinity. Ji Mo gazed at the sea of black-clad crowds, her eyes widening in disbelief. “Is the Moonwatch Sect really planning to recruit so many people?”

“Of course not,” Zhao Changfeng replied. “Today is only the opening day of the sect’s gates. If even one in a hundred from this crowd is accepted, that would already be quite something. The Moonwatch Sect opens its gates once every ten years, and each time, no fewer than a hundred thousand come to take the entrance tests. And yet, each time, including both cultivators and body practitioners, they never admit more than a thousand.”

“Such a high elimination rate?” Zhao Hu and Zhao Qin, who had been brimming with confidence, suddenly felt a chill of apprehension.

“As a fifth-tier sect, the Moonwatch Sect is naturally not so easy to enter,” Zhao Changfeng replied with a wry smile.

“Uncle Changfeng, you seem to know a lot about these trials. Have you taken the entrance exam before?” Ji Mo asked curiously.

“Yes,” Zhao Changfeng nodded, “I came thirty years ago. But, well, your Uncle Changfeng’s talent was lacking—I was eliminated in the very first round.” As he recalled the memory, a hint of bitterness crossed his face.

“Changfeng, that’s not fair to yourself,” interjected Zhao Changjin, who was standing nearby, sighing in reminiscence. “In all the centuries of our Zhao Village, only a handful have ever made it into the Moonwatch Sect as body cultivators. Even though neither you nor the village chief were accepted, to have stood on this ground and competed alongside such talent is an honor in itself.”

“Changfeng, why are you leading the group this year? Where’s your village chief?” As the Zhao villagers exchanged words, a stranger’s voice cut across their conversation. Ji Mo turned to see a dark-complexioned middle-aged man approaching.

“Village Chief Wang, our chief had matters to attend to and hasn’t returned. I am leading the group for now. Is there something you wish to discuss?” Zhao Changfeng’s expression grew more formal as he turned to face the newcomer. This was Wang Jianping, from the neighboring Wang Family Bay. Though the villages were side by side, their relationship was anything but harmonious.

“It’s nothing important,” Wang Jianping said, “I just noticed your group’s numbers this year and got curious. Tsk, tsk, that must be the village chief’s child? So young and already at the sixth level of Body Tempering. Remarkable, truly remarkable.” His gaze fell on Zhao Qin, clicking his tongue in feigned amazement.

The two villages were less than ten miles apart, and open or covert rivalry was nothing new. Wang Family Bay knew all about this generation of Zhao Village youth, making Wang Jianping’s display of surprise seem rather contrived.

“Thank you for your praise, Village Chief Wang,” Zhao Jin replied, remaining polite and unruffled.

“And this one must be your boy, Changfeng? Only ten years old, and already at the peak of the fifth tier. Even more impressive! Changfeng, your village’s fortunes must be good—each child more outstanding than the last.” Wang Jianping’s gaze shifted to Zhao Hu, his admiration growing ever more effusive.

“These children hardly deserve such flattery, Village Chief Wang. If we’re talking about talent, your own son Wang Ting is only thirteen, yet he’s already at the peak of the sixth tier and could break through to the seventh at any moment. Compared to him, our children are hardly worth mentioning,” Zhao Changfeng replied in an even tone, cutting off Wang Jianping’s backhanded compliments.

“Haha, you’re too kind. But wait, these two girls haven’t practiced Body Tempering techniques, have they? Why bring them along?” Wang Jianping laughed, abruptly changing the subject as his gaze landed on Ji Mo and Jiang Ping.

“I brought them to test their spiritual roots. Perhaps they have a chance to become spirit cultivators,” Zhao Changfeng explained.

“Spirit cultivators? Hah! This girl here, if I’m not mistaken, is Doctor Ji’s daughter from your village, isn’t she? I heard she’d gone simple-minded. Are you suggesting even a fool might possess spiritual roots?” Wang Jianping burst into laughter.

“There have been cases of simpletons born with spiritual roots in our Yunhai Dynasty. Besides, our Ji Mo, by Heaven’s favor, regained her senses just days ago,” Zhao Changfeng replied, his eyes flashing coldly before he returned to composure.

“Oh? Then it truly is Heaven’s favor. Heh, you seem quite eager, Changfeng, as if you’re confident about this year’s chances. I won’t hold you up. Good luck!” Wang Jianping’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he asked no more and turned away.

“Don’t feel pressured,” Zhao Changfeng said to the children, worried that Wang Jianping’s words might unsettle them and affect their performance. “When it comes time for the test, just do your best.”

Having participated in the Moonwatch Sect’s trials once before, Zhao Changfeng was familiar with the surroundings. He glanced about, then led the children toward the left, joining one of three long, snaking lines. As they walked, he explained, “We’ll have these children test their spiritual roots first. Afterward, the boys can go sign up for the body cultivation trials.”

“Changfeng, you’re the leader and you know these things better than any of us. Do as you see fit; no need to explain everything,” Zhao Changjin said heartily, waving his hand.

Zhao Changfeng smiled and got everyone in line. Each of the three lines had at least five thousand people, and the numbers were still growing. Yet the line moved quickly thanks to the three spiritual root testing devices at the front. Each candidate merely needed to place their hand on the device, which would instantly reveal whether or not they possessed spiritual roots. If not, they moved on. The process took only five seconds per person—over thirty people tested in a minute.

In the span of an hour, thousands had been tested, yet not a single spiritual root had been found. The result was dispiriting, not just for those in line, but even for the disciples of the Moonwatch Sect overseeing the tests. Ji Mo’s group was swept forward by the crowd, and just as only a few hundred people remained ahead, a group of well-dressed youths approached.

They surveyed the crowd, their eyes settling on Ji Mo’s party. Stepping forward, one whispered, “Trade places with us—I’ll give you a hundred gold.”

Zhao Changfeng frowned slightly, while Zhao Changhai and the others raised their eyebrows, tempted. A hundred gold was no small sum for them; starting at the end of the line again seemed a minor price to pay.

Ji Mo’s eyes sparkled, and she piped up with a clear, childlike voice, “Uncle Changfeng, I’ve heard the Moonwatch Sect’s rules are the strictest and most just. These people are openly trying to cut in line with money—won’t the immortal elders of Moonwatch Sect do anything about it?”

The group of youths was taken aback. They hadn’t expected Ji Mo to reject their offer, let alone raise her voice to draw attention. With so many people present and few sect elders nearby, a little queue-jumping might be overlooked if kept quiet. But once exposed for all to hear, the elders could hardly turn a blind eye.