Chapter Five: Opening the Gates (Part One)

Three days passed in a flash. On May 20th, in the year 758 of the Yunhai Calendar, the decennial disciple selection of the Moonwatching Sect had arrived. The Moonwatching Sect was one of only two fifth-rank sects within the Yunhai Kingdom. In the Qingxuan cultivation world, clans and sects were ranked in grades, with first-rank being the highest and ninth-rank the lowest. The Yunhai Kingdom itself was merely an inconspicuous lower-ranked nation in this vast realm, and the greatest sect in this country was precisely a fifth-rank one.

A fifth-rank sect was a totemic presence in such a land; the status of the Moonwatching Sect was self-evident. Unlike other sects, the Moonwatching Sect did not send envoys far and wide to recruit talent. Instead, once every ten years, they opened their mountain gates and spread the news throughout the realm. All who met the requirements within the borders of the Yunhai Kingdom could come and take part in the entrance examination. Those who passed the sect’s tests would become disciples of the Moonwatching Sect.

All eligible candidates were tested under the supervision of elders from the various peaks. Only those who passed the tests through their own abilities could enter the sect; regardless of background or status, those who failed were turned away without exception. Such strict regulations effectively prevented favoritism and corruption within the sect.

It was precisely this fair and transparent system that, every time the Moonwatching Sect opened its gates, countless outstanding youths—those gifted in talent, character, and resolve—would flock to join. This was also the fundamental reason why the Moonwatching Sect, despite residing in such a remote place as Xianfeng County, could remain steadfast as one of the two great totemic sects of the Yunhai Kingdom.

On the day the Moonwatching Sect opened its gates, countless prodigies from across the realm surged toward this place. The reason the villagers of Zhao Family Village could participate in the selection for a fifth-rank sect was mainly due to their proximity—only a few dozen miles separated them from the Moonwatching Sect. Otherwise, for a mere village to escort a group of children on a journey of a thousand miles to the sect would be as difficult as ascending to the heavens. In these times, the land was not only home to cultivators, but also teemed with fearsome beasts and demons.

In the deep of night on May 20th, Ji Mo was dragged out of bed by Zhao Changfeng and his son Zhao Hu, and hurried toward the village’s designated gathering point. When she arrived, Ji Mo found a number of people already assembled. Besides the four boys who had reached the sect’s physical refinement threshold, and their parents, there was also a pretty young girl she did not recognize. This girl, perhaps eleven or twelve years old, was dressed in pale green, standing tall and graceful beneath the hazy moonlight, drawing all eyes to her.

What puzzled Ji Mo most was that when the girl saw her, a sudden chill seemed to flash in her eyes, sending a cold shiver through Ji Mo’s body. Yet when Ji Mo tried to look more closely, the girl had already averted her gaze, as if the earlier moment had been nothing but a figment of Ji Mo’s imagination.

Zhao Changfeng noticed nothing amiss with Ji Mo. After he arrived, he glanced around and, spotting Zhao Qin standing beside the green-clad girl—but not his father—he paused, then asked, “Is the village chief not here?”

The others all shook their heads. Zhao Qin stepped forward and respectfully replied, “Uncle Changfeng, my father left on business a few days ago and has not yet returned.”

What? The village chief is absent at such a time? The others were surprised by Zhao Qin’s answer, and murmurs rippled through the group. A tall, dark-skinned man took a step forward, his gaze settling on Zhao Changfeng. “Brother Changfeng, since the chief isn’t here, you should lead the group this time.”

This man was Zhao Changjin. His son, Zhao Tie, was the same age as Zhao Hu and had cultivated the Copper-Skin Iron-Bone technique to its fourth level peak—a boy of considerable potential.

“I have no objection to leading. What do the rest of you think?” Zhao Changfeng paused, sweeping his eyes over the other parents.

“We have no objections. With the chief absent, you’re the only one qualified to lead, Brother Changfeng,” the others quickly agreed. Apart from the chief Zhao Changhe, Zhao Changfeng was the second most skilled fighter in the village and commanded much respect. With the chief away, he was indeed the most suitable leader.

Escorting the children to the Moonwatching Sect was no small matter. Though the distance was just over sixty miles, the route passed through the mountain behind the village, a place rife with wild beasts, even if it could not compare to the sect’s own mountain. Without someone strong enough to command authority, who could say what might happen along the way?

“Very well. Since you all trust me, I won’t refuse,” Zhao Changfeng replied readily. With the plan settled, the group—seven children and five adults—armed themselves and carried the necessary supplies for the journey, setting out toward the Moonwatching Sect.

Of the seven children, five were boys who met the sect’s physical refinement standards. The other two were Ji Mo and the young girl, who did not share the surname Zhao. She was Jiang Ping, the niece of the village chief Zhao Changhe, who had come to live with him three years prior. Even at her young age, she was already strikingly beautiful.

Ji Mo, a frail child with no strength to tie a chicken, was only allowed to participate because she’d spent three years in a state of mental confusion, missing the chance to cultivate her body. Furthermore, her late parents had been the village’s best doctors, and most villagers had benefited from their kindness. Now, seeing this little orphan regain her senses, they were happy to let her try her luck at the test for spiritual roots. If she had none, it was no loss; but if, by chance, she did possess spiritual roots and became a spiritual cultivator, the village would have nurtured a future high-level immortal, forging a valuable connection—an opportunity with only benefits, no risks.

As for Jiang Ping, rumor had it that her spiritual roots had been confirmed three years ago. She had come to Zhao Family Village not to join lesser sects, but to await the opening of the Moonwatching Sect. With such a noble future assured, the villagers treated Jiang Ping with the utmost care and politeness throughout the journey.

Ji Mo did not know Jiang Ping. The girl had arrived three years earlier, just when Ji Mo’s parents had passed away and she herself had fallen into her stupor. She had no memory of Jiang Ping. What puzzled her was that Jiang Ping seemed to harbor a vague hostility toward her. Outwardly, Jiang Ping was poised and courteous to all, Ji Mo included, but Ji Mo could not shake the sense that every time Jiang Ping’s eyes fell on her, there was a chill behind them that defied explanation.

Ji Mo frowned, scrutinizing her, but found nothing out of the ordinary. In the end, she simply shook her head and cast aside these strange thoughts, focusing on keeping up with the group.

Once out of the village, they crossed the mountain behind it. Past the Mountain God Temple, they entered the forest. It was the latter part of the lunar month, and the waning moon still hung above the horizon, casting its pale light over the silent woods, filling their hearts with an unspoken, inexplicable oppression.