Chương 19: Chapter-17: Long Chen's Rage and Words! The Prominent Ling Yun-zi!

The piercing scream of the arrogant man echoed through the courtyard, a chilling symphony of agony that sent waves of terror crashing through the hearts of all who bore witness. The scene was nothing short of horrific, as blood pooled on the ground beneath the man's severed limbs, and the source of that terror, Long Chen, stood unyielding, like a dark god of death. The very air around him crackled with a deadly energy, his aura drenched in the essence of killing intent so potent that it felt like a physical force, pressing down on the onlookers with an almost unbearable weight. He was a being far beyond mere mortal comprehension, especially considering he was still only in the Blood Condensation Realm. But unlike the others in this realm—those so-called geniuses and monstrous talents who prided themselves on their cultivation—Long Chen's power was of a different magnitude entirely, eclipsing them all with an ease that defied logic.

As the crowd cowered in fear, Senior Apprentice-brother Wan felt compelled to intervene, stepping forward with a calm yet urgent demeanor. The scene had escalated to a dangerous level, and he knew that if it continued, it could very well end in disaster, not just for Long Chen, but for everyone present. If Long Chen were to continue on this violent path, the sect elders might see it as a breach of the strict rules of the Xuantian Monastery—a reason to exile him from the sect, or worse.

"Long Chen, please," Wan urged, his voice firm but with an undercurrent of desperation. "Calm down. If you push this any further, the elders might have cause to banish you. You know how strict they are with the rules."

For a moment, Long Chen's expression remained as unreadable as stone, his eyes locked onto the writhing form of the man whose limbs he had severed. The sheer intensity of his gaze was enough to send shivers down the spine of even the bravest of souls. But then, without a trace of emotion, Long Chen spoke, his voice low and chillingly calm, "Forgiveness… Ask him to cry loudly, to beg for forgiveness as he takes back his words against Elder Tu Fang. If he doesn't, he won't have the chance to live—nor to die in an easy way."

The words, though spoken softly, carried a weight that crushed the spirits of all who heard them. It was a command, not a suggestion, and the cold finality in Long Chen's tone left no room for argument. Qi Xin, who had been watching the scene unfold with a mixture of horror and disbelief, now found himself compelled to intervene. Yelling at the injured man, Qi Xin's voice trembled with a fear that he could not fully suppress. "Do as he says! Beg for forgiveness!"

The bulky man, writhing in pain, his face contorted in a grimace of agony, did not need to be told twice. Tears streamed down his face as he sobbed, his voice choked with fear and desperation. "Forgive me! Please, forgive me! I swear I'll never say those words again! I swear!" His cries echoed across the courtyard, a pitiful display that only served to further unsettle the already terrified crowd.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the oppressive killing intent that had emanated from Long Chen began to recede. As it did, the tension in the air slowly dissipated, and the onlookers let out a collective sigh of relief. But the respite was short-lived, as Long Chen, his expression still as emotionless as before, began to move toward the injured man. The sight of him approaching sent a fresh wave of panic through the crowd, and the man, whose life Long Chen had so effortlessly ruined, looked up at him with eyes filled with abject terror.

Long Chen paused, his gaze sweeping over the man's trembling form before he let out a small, almost inaudible sigh. Reaching into his robes, he retrieved a small jade bottle, and when he uncorked it, a rich, potent aroma of medicinal energy wafted into the air. The fragrance was so pure, so intoxicating, that it drew gasps of astonishment from those nearby. Even the most experienced alchemists in the crowd could not help but marvel at the sight—it was a 'Body Rejuvenation Pill,' a Rank-3 pill of the highest purity, a treasure that many would give anything to possess.

As the crowd looked on, their mouths practically watering at the sight of such a rare and valuable pill, Long Chen unceremoniously tossed it into the man's mouth. The pill melted instantly, and as it did, the man's body convulsed violently. A scream tore from his throat as his injuries seemed to ignite, burning with an excruciating intensity. The onlookers watched in a mixture of horror and awe as the man's severed limbs began to regenerate before their very eyes. Slowly, agonizingly, his body knit itself back together, the once mangled flesh returning to its original, unblemished state.

The scene was nothing short of miraculous, but it was also deeply disturbing. The man's cries of pain echoed long after his limbs had fully regrown, a testament to the sheer brutality of the healing process. The crowd, though amazed by the power of the pill, could not shake the feeling of unease that had settled over them. What they had witnessed was both a display of incredible power and a reminder of the terrifying force that Long Chen wielded with such ease.

As the man lay there, trembling and gasping for breath, Long Chen finally turned away, his expression still as impassive as ever. The courtyard, which had been filled with the sounds of suffering and fear just moments before, now fell into an uneasy silence. The senior apprentice-brothers of the Xuantian Monastery, who had been preparing to explain the upcoming trials, seemed momentarily at a loss for words. But they quickly recovered, and with a sense of urgency, they began to outline the details of the trials that lay ahead.

Long Chen, however, seemed disinterested in their explanations. Instead, he turned to his loyal comrade, Guo Ran, who had remained by his side throughout the entire ordeal. "Guo Ran, go with Yue Zifeng," Long Chen instructed, his voice firm. There was no room for argument in his tone, and Guo Ran nodded obediently.

But Long Chen wasn't done. His gaze shifted to Yue Zifeng, Tang Wan'er, and Ye Zhiqiu—the leaders of the three major factions. "The three of you," Long Chen continued, "will be in a team. Combine all three factions into one."

The statement, simple as it was, carried with it a weight that the three faction leaders could not ignore. They exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and resignation in their eyes and so three factions merged to become one.

While the preparations for the trials continued below, atop a distant mountain, an enormous tree with a heaven-reaching crown swayed gently in the wind. Perched high in its branches was a figure, Elder Tu Fang, the very man who had given Long Chen his registration card. His expression was serious as he watched the events unfold below, his sharp eyes missing nothing.

But as he observed, he suddenly felt a powerful surge of spiritual energy approaching from behind. Recognizing the presence immediately, Elder Tu Fang turned and bowed deeply, his voice filled with respect. "I pay my respects to the Sect Leader. Congratulations on your breakthrough."

The figure who had approached was none other than Ling Yun-zi, the Xuantian Monastery's number one expert, a sword master whose fame had spread far and wide over the past three hundred years. Despite his incredible age, Ling Yun-zi appeared to be in his thirties, his face serene and graceful. A simple longsword rested on his back, and within his eyes was a peaceful expression that belied the immense power he wielded.

"Thank you, Elder Tu," Ling Yun-zi replied, his tone respectful but tinged with a hint of satisfaction. "It was indeed an unthinkable enlightenment."

Ling Yun-zi's gaze turned downward, toward the courtyard where the trials were about to begin. His eyes lingered on a particular figure, and he asked, "That person is Long Chen, correct?"

"Yes," Elder Tu Fang confirmed, his tone thoughtful. "Originally, I wasn't planning on giving him the registration card. But after witnessing his combat prowess—enough to easily crush a Rank-4 beast and match someone in the Meridian Opening Realm—I knew that he was destined for greatness. I could see that he would one day become an outstanding existence within the world. And yet, there was something more… something that told me he should not be put through the trials like the others. That's why I gave him and his comrades the plaques to become Core Disciples and Inner Disciples directly."

As Tu Fang's words lingered in the air, he could see the slightest shift in Ling Yun-zi's expression, a subtle smile that hinted at a deeper understanding. "Ah, congratulations, Tu Fang," Ling Yun-zi said softly, his tone both warm and enigmatic. "That proves you are becoming increasingly closer to the Heavenly Daos. Your breakthrough to Xiantian is only a matter of time."

Tu Fang blinked in surprise, taken aback by the sect leader's sudden prediction. "Why do you say that?" he asked, his voice betraying a hint of curiosity and disbelief.

"Only once you have approached the Heavenly Daos will you begin to sense or feel the hidden secrets of the unseen world," Ling Yun-zi explained, his gaze now fixed on something far beyond the physical realm. "That is a sign that your advancement to Xiantian is imminent. Even I only began to have such feelings over a hundred years ago. And so, I am sure that your breakthrough is only a matter of time."

Tu Fang's mind raced, the implications of Ling Yun-zi's words sinking in. The sect leader's insight was not something to be taken lightly, especially when it involved the mysterious and elusive realm of Xiantian. But there was something else that tugged at the edge of his thoughts, something that had been gnawing at him ever since he had encountered Long Chen. "Then, Sect Leader, does that mean Long Chen…?" Tu Fang asked, his voice trailing off as he sought confirmation of his suspicions.

"Yes," Ling Yun-zi replied, his tone becoming more serious, more reflective. "His Dantian is completely still, but his blood and Qi are like a roaring dragon. His physical body is comparable to that of a third-rank Magical Beast, which is beyond common sense. But what is most inconceivable is that his energy is gathered and hidden within his left foot. Once that hidden energy is released, his strength will multiply manyfold."

Sect Leader Ling Yun-zi had said only up to this much as he didn't know that Long Chen couldn't access to his Dantian normally for the time being without being in the state of having released his Fengfu Battle Armor making it still like dread while his spirit root, spirit blood quality and other qualities of his and his friends were still being kept hidden by Elder Xie's Concealing Technique.

Tu Fang's admiration for Ling Yun-zi grew even deeper. "Ah, as expected of the sect leader," he said, his tone full of respect. "I could only see that his Dantian had no Spirit Root. I had no idea his energy was all concealed in his foot."

Ling Yun-zi shook his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I couldn't see it clearly either. I could only vaguely sense it, and by 'vaguely,' I mean it was intensely vague. Furthermore, I was only able to detect it because Long Chen's cultivation base is still relatively low, in what seems to be the mid Blood Condensation realm. If he were to reach the Muscle Rebirth Realm, or the Tendon Transformation Realm, no one would be able to sense anything at all."

The gravity of Ling Yun-zi's words was not lost on Tu Fang. He knew that once Long Chen's cultivation advanced, he would become an enigma, even to those who had the deepest understanding of the Heavenly Daos. The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine—a shiver not born of fear, but of awe at the potential power that lay dormant within the young disciple.

"Once you reach my realm, Tu Fang, you will begin to understand certain things," Ling Yun-zi continued, his voice now tinged with a note of melancholy. "Now that Long Chen and his comrades have arrived at our Xuantian Monastery, I fear it will never be calm again."

The sect leader's words hung in the air, their ominous tone sending a chill through Tu Fang's heart. He had seen countless disciples come and go, each with their own unique talents and potential, but none had ever evoked such a reaction from Ling Yun-zi. The sect leader, who had faced down countless threats and risen to the pinnacle of cultivation, was now expressing genuine concern for the future of the monastery.

"Sect Leader, this is my fault," Tu Fang said hurriedly, bowing deeply in apology. "Please forgive me."

But Ling Yun-zi merely smiled, a soft, almost fatherly expression crossing his face. "This has nothing to do with you, Tu Fang," he said gently. "It's simply fate. But this group of youths, especially Long Chen, may bring about changes to our Xuantian Monastery. We can only hope that these changes are for the better. All I know is that, as long as Long Chen doesn't perish during his trials, he could very well change the entire world. That is because he is one of those legendary existences of heaven and earth—a Divergent."

Ling Yun-zi's voice took on a reverent tone as he spoke the last word, his gaze drifting upwards as if he were looking beyond the heavens themselves. The term "Divergent" was one that carried with it a weight of legend, a rarity among rarities, a being who defied the natural order, one whose existence could either bring great prosperity or unparalleled destruction.

Tu Fang's heart skipped a beat. A Divergent? He had heard tales of such beings, but they were always spoken of in hushed whispers, as though the very mention of them could summon disaster. Divergents were said to be individuals who, from birth, were at odds with the natural order, beings who were destined to either ascend to the heavens or be struck down by them. Their paths were never simple, never peaceful. They were tumultuous, marked by great trials and unimaginable suffering, but also by moments of transcendent power.

As Ling Yun-zi finished speaking, a sudden, violent cough wracked his body, and to Tu Fang's horror, the sect leader coughed up a mouthful of blood. The crimson liquid splattered against the ground, stark against the otherwise serene setting. "Sect Leader!" Tu Fang cried out, rushing forward, his face a mask of concern.

Ling Yun-zi waved a hand dismissively, his expression remaining calm despite the severity of what had just occurred. "It's nothing," he said, his voice steady but tinged with a weariness that had not been there moments before. "Just a mouthful of blood. In order to confirm my guess, it was definitely worth it."

Tu Fang stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what he had just witnessed. The sect leader, a figure of near-immortal power, had just coughed up blood—something that should have been impossible for someone of his cultivation. "Sect Leader, are you sure you're alright?" Tu Fang asked, his voice trembling slightly.

Ling Yun-zi smiled faintly, a smile that did little to ease Tu Fang's fears. "I'm fine," he replied. "I've just received a backlash from the Heavenly Daos. It will take a couple of months to recover, but it's nothing too serious."

"A couple of months?" Tu Fang echoed, disbelief coloring his words. How could someone of Ling Yun-zi's stature, someone who could borrow the power of heaven and earth to heal, take months to recover from a mere cough of blood? It didn't make sense. "But Sect Leader, your cultivation is so advanced. Surely, this shouldn't have happened?"

Ling Yun-zi's expression grew somber, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the blood on the ground. "Tu Fang, you must remember that the Heavens are difficult to fathom," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a profound truth. "What I did just now—peering into the secrets of a Divergent—is not something to be taken lightly. This injury isn't on my physical body, but on my soul. It's extremely difficult to cure."

Tu Fang's breath caught in his throat. A soul injury? Such wounds were notoriously difficult to heal, even for the most powerful cultivators. They were injuries that went beyond the physical, attacking the very essence of one's being. And for someone like Ling Yun-zi to sustain such an injury, it was a testament to the immense power and danger that Divergents represented.

"Then, do you really think it was worth it?" Tu Fang asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. He couldn't fathom risking so much for a mere conjecture, no matter how intriguing or important it might be.

Ling Yun-zi chuckled softly, a sound that was both amused and resigned. "Of course, it was worth it," he said, his tone carrying an air of inevitability. "This kind of situation—encountering a Divergent before the Heavenly Daos have masked them—is something that happens perhaps once in ten thousand years. To have such an opportunity is beyond rare. Once a Divergent matures, their body will be masked by the Heavenly Daos, and no one will be able to see through them. What I did just now might have been the greatest thing I've ever done."

Ling Yun-zi's gaze drifted upwards again, his eyes reflecting the distant stars that were beginning to appear in the twilight sky. His words were spoken with a conviction that left no room for doubt, yet there was a hint of something more—perhaps a trace of defiance, or maybe even regret. The sect leader had risked his life to confirm his suspicions, to gaze into the future of a being who could very well change the course of history. And in doing so, he had placed himself in the crosshairs of the Heavenly Daos, a force that was as unpredictable as it was unstoppable.

Divergents were exceedingly rare, but when they did appear, their impact on the world was nothing short of cataclysmic. They were individuals who, by their very nature, defied the natural order, beings whose existence was an affront to the balance of the heavens and the earth. But because of this, they were also beings of unparalleled potential, capable of feats that ordinary cultivators could only dream of.

"Then how should we handle Long Chen?" Tu Fang asked, his voice betraying his unease. He had no idea how to deal with someone like Long Chen, someone who was destined to either ascend to greatness or be struck down by the heavens. Although he had been skeptical of Ling Yun-zi's words before, the sect leader's actions and the backlash he had suffered from the Heavenly Daos left no room for doubt. Long Chen was a Divergent, and that meant that his future was anything but certain.

Ling Yun-zi fell silent for a moment, his thoughts seemingly far away. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, almost reflective. "Such a figure will always grow quickly, like a shooting star. His light will dazzle the world, and he will step over the corpses of countless experts. But…" Ling Yun-zi's voice trailed off, his expression darkening as memories of past tragedies flashed through his mind. "But unfortunately, such an existence will never be accepted by the Heavenly Daos. No matter how strong they become, they will all die under the power of the Heavens, not even leaving a corpse behind."

Ling Yun-zi's words were a stark reminder of the grim fate that awaited all Divergents. They were beings who, despite their incredible power and potential, were doomed to burn out before they could truly reach their peak. The stronger they became, the more violently they would be rejected by the Heavenly Daos. It was a cruel, inescapable fate, one that had claimed the lives of countless geniuses throughout history.

In the long history of the cultivation world, Divergents were like the Queen of the Night, a rare flower that bloomed only for a single night each year, wilting before dawn. They were figures who, in the brief moments of their existence, would shake the very foundations of the world, only to disappear just as quickly, leaving behind nothing but memories and legends. For those who encountered them, the experience was both a blessing and a curse—a chance to witness the extraordinary, but also a reminder of the fragility of even the greatest power.

"It truly is a pity," Tu Fang sighed, his voice tinged with the weariness of a man who had seen far too much of the world's cruelty. His eyes, usually sharp and discerning, were clouded with a rare sorrow, reflecting the heavy burden that weighed on his soul. As a seasoned elder of the Xuantian Monastery, Tu Fang had witnessed countless talents rise and fall, but nothing had prepared him for the complexity of the situation they now faced.

Ling Yun-zi, the sect leader, shared in this sentiment, his gaze distant as if he were peering into the very threads of fate itself. "That's why the current world's strongest experts do not possess such existences. Divergents will all be pitilessly exterminated before they can manage to stand at the peak of the cultivation world. However, I really wonder just how long this Long Chen will be able to live. Will he be able to blossom with such magnificence, or will he be snuffed out before he can release such radiance?"

As Ling Yun-zi spoke, his words carried a deep, almost philosophical weight. Divergents, those rare and extraordinary beings who were destined to defy the natural order, were often seen as both a blessing and a curse. Their existence was a paradox—beings of immense potential and power, yet doomed to be extinguished by the very heavens that had birthed them. For Ling Yun-zi, the arrival of Long Chen was both an opportunity and a tragedy waiting to unfold.

Tu Fang, his mind still grappling with the enormity of what they were discussing, finally asked the question that had been gnawing at him. "So what should we do?"

"Just let it take its course," Ling Yun-zi responded, his voice steady, but with an undercurrent of resignation that spoke of a man who had come to terms with the harsh realities of the world. "Such a figure has his own destiny. His lifespan has already been set by the Heavens. If we try to change that course, we'll be affected by Karma. That's something we absolutely must avoid."

The concept of Karma was not something to be taken lightly within the cultivation world. To interfere with the destiny of a Divergent was to court disaster, not just for oneself, but for all those connected to the event. Ling Yun-zi understood this all too well. His many years of cultivation and leadership had taught him that there were forces in the universe that even the strongest of mortals could not contend with.

"So it'll be best if we just stay bystanders," Ling Yun-zi continued, his tone now taking on a lighter, almost whimsical note. "Sometimes even being a bystander can be fun. Furthermore, I have a premonition that this fellow will completely overturn our Xuantian Monastery. Hehe, perhaps I will be the most successful Xuantian Monastery sect leader in all of history."

As he spoke, a bright light shined in Ling Yun-zi's eyes, a reflection of the sudden spark of ambition that had reignited within him. It was as if the mere presence of Long Chen had breathed new life into his dreams, dreams that had been buried under the weight of endless responsibilities and the monastery's stagnant state. For a moment, the somber atmosphere lifted, replaced by a sense of possibility and hope.

Tu Fang, feeling this change in the sect leader, allowed himself to indulge in a rare moment of optimism. "Then this time in the Monastery Grand Competition, do you think we can get a good ranking?" he asked, his voice carrying a note of anticipation that had been absent for far too long.

"The Xuantian Super-Monastery has 108 monasteries. In the Grand Competitions, we always end with a bottom ranking. Just thinking about it is infuriating," Ling Yun-zi admitted, his tone darkening as he recalled the monastery's dismal record in the competitions. "The lower ranking we get, the less resources we get. Our monastery hasn't been able to break out of this vicious cycle for a thousand years. The difference between us and the other monasteries is only growing greater."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of history. For a thousand years, the Xuantian Monastery had languished at the bottom of the rankings, trapped in a cycle of mediocrity and decline. Each year, they faced the same humiliating defeat, receiving fewer and fewer resources, which only served to deepen the gap between them and the other monasteries. It was a cycle that had demoralized even the most dedicated disciples, a cycle that seemed impossible to break.

"Ever since I became the sect leader, I worked incredibly hard to change this," Ling Yun-zi continued, his voice filled with a quiet intensity. "Unfortunately, I was never able to change this cycle. I let down my master."

There was a deep sense of regret in Ling Yun-zi's words, a regret that spoke of a man who had dedicated his life to a cause, only to see it falter under his watch. His talent had been extraordinary; in his twenties, he had stepped into the Bone Forging realm, a feat that had set him apart from his peers. With a single longsword, he had swept through the strongest of his generation, earning a reputation as a prodigy. It was this talent that had led him to be chosen as the successor to the sect leader, a position he had assumed at the age of thirty-five after the passing of his master.

But despite his best efforts, Ling Yun-zi had been unable to lift the Xuantian Monastery out of its decline. The monastery's continual defeats had weighed heavily on him, a constant reminder of his perceived failures. The disciples had become increasingly disheartened, with no new talents emerging to challenge the status quo. The lack of standout experts had only deepened the monastery's despair, turning hope into a distant memory.

Yet, amidst this bleak landscape, a flicker of hope had appeared. "But the year before this, several monster-class sprouts had registered with us," Ling Yun-zi said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "That caused my dust-covered heart to once more pulse with hope."

The emergence of these new talents had rekindled Ling Yun-zi's ambition. Figures like Tang Wan-er, who possessed immense potential, had begun to breathe new life into the monastery. For the first time in years, Ling Yun-zi dared to dream of a future where the Xuantian Monastery could rise from the ashes of its past failures and reclaim its rightful place among the great sects.

And then there was Long Chen. His appearance had been like a beacon in the night, a signal that perhaps, just perhaps, the monastery's fortunes were about to change. Long Chen was unlike any disciple Ling Yun-zi had ever encountered. His potential was so vast, so overwhelming, that Ling Yun-zi had been willing to risk everything to confirm it—even suffering a backlash from the Heavenly Daos.

"Although I suffered the backlash, I'm still extremely excited," Ling Yun-zi confessed, his eyes shining with a fervor that Tu Fang had not seen in him for years. "As long as Long Chen doesn't die, he will definitely shine brightly."

The excitement in Ling Yun-zi's voice was contagious. The Xuantian Monastery, which had been on the brink of despair, now had a chance to rise. With five monster-class geniuses and one Divergent among their ranks, it was difficult to imagine a future where the monastery did not ascend to greatness. The very thought of it filled Ling Yun-zi with a renewed sense of purpose.

Ling Yun-zi pondered for a moment, his mind racing with possibilities. "Other than Long Chen, groom the other geniuses as best as you can. They are our hope of rising up this time. Don't worry about the cultivation resources. We must cut off any paths of retreat; this is our only chance! We must take advantage of it."

Tu Fang nodded hastily, his own heart swelling with a newfound determination. "Yes," he agreed, his voice firm with resolve.

Ling Yun-zi knew that time was of the essence. "I have to go heal my wounds," he said, his tone becoming more serious. "During this time, the monastery will be handed to you. Remember to let everything take its course naturally. You have already given him the core disciple tablet, and this must be final. From now on, you mustn't give Long Chen any special treatment; otherwise, our monastery will be implicated."

The warning was clear. The path ahead was fraught with danger, not just for Long Chen, but for the entire monastery. To interfere with the natural course of a Divergent's destiny was to invite disaster, a risk that could not be taken lightly. Ling Yun-zi's voice held a note of finality, a reminder that they were dealing with forces beyond their understanding.

As Ling Yun-zi left to heal his wounds, Tu Fang remained behind, his thoughts consumed by the weight of the responsibility now resting on his shoulders. He stared into the distance, apprehension pounding within his heart. The future was uncertain, and the stakes had never been higher. In the end, he too disappeared into the night, his mind troubled by the unknown challenges that lay ahead.

In the grounds of the Xuantian Monastery, the air was thick with anticipation. The tall, formidable gates loomed over the thirty thousands of registrants who had gathered, each one eager, yet anxious, about the trials that lay ahead. In the midst of a tense atmosphere that buzzed with the anticipation of the trial, Senior Brother Wan prepared to announce the commencement of the grueling thirty-day trial. This trial was not merely a test of physical endurance or skill; it was a crucible designed to forge the worthiest among them into true disciples of the Xuantian Monastery.

Just as Senior Brother Wan opened his mouth to declare the commencement of the trial, his words were abruptly halted by a voice that cut through the air like a blade. "Senior Apprentice Brother Wan, just wait for a bit. I have something to say," Long Chen interjected, his tone calm yet commanding.

The registrants turned their eyes toward Long Chen, the man who had been the subject of much controversy and speculation among them. Previously the whispers had spread like wildfire that he had used some kind of backdoor, bypassing the trials entirely to gain entry into the sect. The accusations had been laced with disdain, jealousy, and suspicion. Many had assumed him to be just another privileged individual, someone who had unfairly sidestepped the rigorous testing they themselves would soon endure. But as Long Chen stepped forward, the energy around him shifted, and with it, the attitude of the crowd.

Now what were gone were the sneers and scornful glances; in their place was a palpable sense of fear. Long Chen, with his dark, penetrating eyes and an aura that seemed to radiate power, had become a figure of authority that demanded respect. He surveyed the crowd with an unyielding gaze, taking in the faces of those who had dared to judge him without knowing him. As he inhaled deeply, the tension in the air grew thicker, as if the very atmosphere was holding its breath in anticipation of what he was about to say.

And then, with a voice that was both thunderous and resolute, Long Chen began his proclamation. "Those who ever join with evil intentions, behold," he declared, each word resonating with a force that seemed to echo through the very souls of those present. "I will not tolerate a single evil act in the sect. Those who commit such activities or support them will die. However, those who wish to learn and follow the actual righteous rules will be welcomed and treated well."

His words struck like lightning, a powerful and inescapable force that sent shockwaves through the crowd. It was as though Long Chen's voice had a life of its own, reaching deep into the hearts of the registrants, uncovering their darkest fears and hidden motives. Those who harbored ill intentions felt their spirits crushed under the weight of his proclamation, as if the very ground beneath them was shifting. The crushing force of his words left no room for ambiguity; there would be no tolerance for deceit, betrayal, or corruption under his watch.

But it wasn't just the fear of punishment that reverberated through the crowd. For those who had come with pure intentions, seeking a path of righteousness and self-improvement, Long Chen's words were like a beacon of hope. They could feel the sincerity behind his declaration, a promise that those who were true of heart would find guidance and protection within the sect. It was a spark that ignited something deep within them, a flicker of inspiration that began to grow into a roaring flame of determination.

Long Chen, sensing the shift in the crowd, continued to speak, his voice now laced with a deadly seriousness that made the air feel electric. "If you want to, you can return back to your original place and continue your previous life," he said, offering them a choice, a way out if they lacked the courage or resolve to walk the path ahead. "But if you want to cultivate here and start a new life, then get ready to wield your prowess and your force to aid the righteous path with true manners. Cultivate diligently while staying upright and clear."

The registrants stood transfixed, hanging onto his every word. Long Chen's message was clear: the Xuantian Monastery was not a place for the faint of heart or the morally ambiguous. It was a place of discipline, honor, and unwavering commitment to the righteous path. To remain within its walls meant embracing a new life, one that demanded not just physical strength, but moral fortitude as well.

And then, as if to seal the gravity of his words, Long Chen issued a command that sent a shiver down the spine of every listener. "Make a Soul Oath if you want to join," he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. The Soul Oath was no ordinary vow—it was a sacred promise, binding one's very essence to the words spoken, with dire consequences for those who would dare break it.

"I too make a Soul Oath right now," Long Chen declared, raising his hand solemnly as if to place his heart on the line. "I will protect all of you from internal evil and from dangers to the limit I can and help you become true experts. But remember, no one is allowed to break the line between sanity and insanity, humanity and inhumanity. So, do you all understand?"

His words reverberated through the crowd, carrying with them the weight of an unbreakable promise. The registrants felt a collective jolt as the reality of what was being asked of them sank in. This was no ordinary trial; this was a commitment of the highest order, one that would shape the very core of their beings.

The crowd, once a disjointed assembly of individuals with disparate motivations, began to coalesce into a unified force. The fear that had initially gripped them began to dissipate, replaced by a newfound clarity and purpose. Slowly, as if awakening from a deep slumber, the registrants began to murmur their agreement, their voices growing louder as their resolve strengthened. "Understood," they responded, the word echoing across the grounds like a rallying cry.

As the echoes of their affirmation faded, the atmosphere shifted once more. The fear that had once bound them now melted away, replaced by a powerful sense of camaraderie. Long Chen's presence, his words, and the sheer force of his conviction had dismantled the false chains of society that had once held them captive. It was as if something deep within each of them had been destroyed, making way for a new sense of freedom and possibility.

They began to envision a path paved through their own efforts—a path of true righteousness, untainted by the corrupting influence of the outside world. For the first time, they saw themselves not as mere participants in a trial, but as individuals capable of shaping their own destinies. Long Chen had not only instilled fear in the wicked but had also inspired the righteous to rise to their full potential.

One by one, the registrants began to step forward, their eyes burning with newfound passion and determination. The transformation was palpable; they no longer looked like lost souls, but rather individuals ready to carve out their own destinies. Their previous doubts and insecurities had been swept away by the tide of Long Chen's words, leaving in their place a steely resolve.

As they moved forward, the crowd's energy shifted once again. What was once a group of fearful, uncertain individuals now felt like a collective force, united by a common purpose. The oppressive atmosphere that had hung over them like a dark cloud lifted, replaced by a burgeoning sense of camaraderie and resolve. It was as if they had been reborn, their spirits rekindled by the fire of Long Chen's conviction.

The moment was not lost on the senior brothers who stood as witnesses to this transformation. They too felt the impact of Long Chen's words, the sheer force of his presence. Even those who had previously harbored doubts about him found themselves swayed by the undeniable power of his leadership. In that moment, they saw in Long Chen the makings of a true leader, someone who could inspire not just fear, but loyalty and respect.

Without hesitation, and with a sense of solemnity, they all made the Soul Oath, even those who had been the most arrogant and defiant, like Qi Xin and Lei Qingshang. The significance of this moment was not lost on anyone. It was a collective act of commitment, a binding promise that marked the beginning of their new journey.

Senior Brother Wan, witnessing this unprecedented display of unity and determination, finally spoke, his voice carrying the authority of his position but also a newfound respect for the young man who had just transformed the very nature of the trial. "The trial begins now," he announced, and with those words, the one-month trial was officially underway.

The registrants, now bound by their oaths and fortified by Long Chen's words, stepped into the trial not as mere participants, but as a unified force, ready to prove themselves worthy of the path they had chosen. The journey ahead would be arduous, filled with trials that would test their strength, their resolve, and their very souls along with the righteous and proper way without acting like deceiving and sneaky person but like a steadfast, capable and headstrong person embracing their strength.

To Be Continued…