The vast arena of the Golden Sparrow Guild did not fall silent in a single breath. The noise faded gradually, the way dust settles after a storm. Conversations thinned and broke apart, laughter dying mid-note, voices trailing off until even the most restless among the crowd found themselves watching the central platform. Some stood straighter without meaning to. Others simply stilled, their attention pulled forward as if by an unseen current.
High Elder Ji Han had stepped forward.
The movement was simple, without fanfare. His robe trailed behind him in a slow, measured sweep, dark fabric brushing against pale stone with quiet inevitability. There was nothing theatrical in his stride, no effort to claim attention, yet attention gathered around him all the same. He did not need to seize the moment; he stood, and the moment came to him.
Lu Mao watched closely. What drew his gaze was not reverence but recognition. There was something in the elder's stillness that felt familiar, something that did not rely on strength or aura alone. It was control. Every motion was precise, every breath even. Even the slight sway of his sleeve felt intentional, as though nothing around him moved without passing through his awareness.
Ji Han lifted his hand. The gesture was small and without flourish, yet its effect spread outward through the arena like a ripple moving across a still lake. It did not press down upon the gathered crowd, nor did it force obedience. Instead, it settled into them. Conversations stopped not because they were silenced, but because continuing suddenly felt unnecessary.
Lu Mao felt the wave pass through him. It was subtle, almost delicate, yet unmistakable. It did not weigh on him, did not suppress his presence. It simply brushed past, acknowledging him in the process, and he acknowledged it in turn.
"The test of Qi is complete," Ji Han said. His voice was calm, neither loud nor commanding, yet it carried cleanly across the space, reaching every ear without effort. "Now begins the true trial."
The words carried their own weight, and that weight settled heavily across the candidates. Some who had relaxed moments before shifted their footing, their posture tightening without conscious thought. Others took measured breaths, steadying themselves. Confidence dimmed slightly in a few, while in others a flicker of anticipation sharpened.
Lu Mao felt that change as well. Not fear, not uncertainty, but a sharpening of awareness. His thoughts aligned themselves, and the noise of everything beyond the present moment faded away.
"This is the trial that will determine," Ji Han continued, his gaze moving slowly over the assembled crowd, "who among you is worthy to enter the Golden Sparrow Guild as disciples."
The word hung in the air. Worthy. It was a simple word, yet it held an unspoken challenge. Not all would meet that standard.
The atmosphere thickened. Hope burned in some eyes. Doubt flickered in others. In many, the two existed together, pulling against one another in quiet tension.
"The Trial of Skill," Ji Han said.
The air tightened again, and Lu Mao's gaze sharpened.
Skill. Not strength, not raw talent, but skill.
Ji Han allowed the silence to stretch, giving the weight of that single word time to sink in before speaking again.
"There are five hundred and fifty-three of you. You will form groups of five, creating one hundred and ten teams."
With a smooth motion of his sleeve, the air beside him shimmered. Light condensed, then unfolded into a faint golden projection. The shape of Sparrow City took form in lines of pale light. Streets branched outward like veins. Alleys wound between buildings. Towers rose in uneven clusters. The map was not detailed, but it was enough for those who knew how to interpret it.
Lu Mao studied it at once. Entrances, tight passages, elevated vantage points, and blind corners all revealed themselves to those who looked carefully.
Then the red lights appeared, scattered throughout the map. Some burned bright atop towers. Others glowed faintly in hidden courtyards or narrow streets.
"These are the Red Fire Orbs," Ji Han said. "They are your objective. There are only thirty."
A wave of reaction moved through the candidates. Voices rose in disbelieving murmurs.
"Thirty?"
"That's far too few…"
Ji Han's voice cut cleanly through the noise.
"Each orb is guarded by one of our senior disciples."
This time the response was quieter, but the weight of it was heavier. Senior disciples were not equals to them. They were barriers, living walls.
"You may defeat them," Ji Han continued, "or you may take the orb from them. How you achieve this is your decision."
Lu Mao understood at once. This trial was not a contest of brute strength. It was a test of judgment, adaptability, and the ability to choose correctly under pressure.
"But only those who deliver an orb here will pass."
The murmurs faded as understanding spread. Five hundred and fifty-three candidates and only thirty orbs. The numbers alone dictated the outcome.
"If this seems unfair," Ji Han added calmly, "you may leave."
No one moved.
"The path of a cultivator was never meant for those who seek fairness."
That ended the discussion.
"You have thirty minutes to form your teams. Those who fail will be eliminated."
The arena erupted into motion. Candidates moved quickly, calling out, making offers, forming alliances in hurried voices. Some formed teams instantly, drawn by confidence or prior acquaintance. Others hesitated, drifting toward the edges as stronger individuals gathered followers.