The host turned to the young female cultivator, his tone playful but curious.
"So... do you also wish to directly become the sect's outer disciple?"
The girl's eyes were unwavering as she stared back at him. Her voice, calm yet laced with firm determination, echoed through the silent arena:
"Yes, I do."
The host observed her carefully, scanning her from head to toe. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"Then let's proceed. First, defeat the holder of the same number token as yours. After that, you'll face one of our outer disciples. Only if you win both matches, will you be qualified."
His voice, though friendly, carried a weight that felt like it determined the fate of every participant. A hush fell over the crowd.
She stepped into the center of the platform and raised her voice,
"Number 15!"
Moments later, another girl climbed the stage. She wore a simple robe and carried a sword strapped to her waist. Her presence was plain, unassuming—especially when compared to the confidence radiating from the first girl.
The host looked at both of them and gave a single command:
"Begin."
The sword-wielding girl rushed forward, her weapon gleaming as it sliced through the air. But just as she lifted her blade to strike—her body froze.
In a blink, the confident girl had vanished from her spot and reappeared right in front of her opponent.
Before the sword girl could even react, a crisp slap echoed through the arena. She was sent flying off the platform like a ragdoll.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
All most spectators saw was a gust of wind—and then a figure tumbling through the air. Once their eyes caught up, they realized it was the sword girl who had been flung out.
Their gazes then shifted back to the platform, where the victorious girl stood calm and still—barehanded, as though she hadn't even moved.
Among the strong cultivators in the crowd, some gulped. Their eyes twitched.
"Thank the heavens I didn't face her," one muttered inwardly.
"I might not even know how I was eliminated… Thank you, God."
The host chuckled softly, his gaze still fixed on the girl. She looked at him with a silent question in her eyes:
Shall we proceed?
He clapped his hands once, and a tall, handsome male cultivator stepped onto the stage. His aura was composed but sharp.
The host addressed her:
"As before, defeat him and you'll be accepted as an outer disciple. But if you lose, you will be eliminated and barred from the next round. So… do you still wish to continue?"
Behind his gentle voice was a hidden truth—he didn't want to lose such a promising seedling. She might bring great benefit to the sect and perhaps carry its legacy forward. Still, he knew how strong the sect's disciples truly were. Their cultivation levels might not seem high, but their combat strength was exceptional.
This was her last chance to reconsider.
But the girl, still calm and resolute, replied firmly:
"I will fight."
The host sighed quietly to himself but nodded.
"Very well. Continue."
The male cultivator walked to the center of the platform, hands folded behind his back, every step filled with grace.
He smiled slightly and said,
"Miss, may I have your name before we fight?"
He had been captivated by her beauty at first glance and hoped to spark a connection—even amidst combat.
But she looked at him sharply and replied coldly:
"There's no need for formalities. Let's fight."
Without another word, she vanished—and reappeared in front of him, launching a barrage of palm strikes toward his chest.
His eyes widened in surprise.
"Damn… this girl's fierce."
He leapt backward, narrowly dodging the strikes, but the force of her blows still sent shockwaves toward him. He raised both arms in front of him to shield himself.
Even with the block, he was pushed several steps back.
Before he could fully recover, she followed up with a flurry of punches, so fast that he had no time to bring up his defense. He clenched his jaw and endured.
Moments later, he forced his arms through the storm of blows, stepping forward to close the distance. Then, he threw a heavy punch of his own.
"You've forced me to do this!" he shouted, launching his fist toward her.
But the girl had expected this. She dodged swiftly and soared into the air, floating above him.
The male cultivator stared upward in disbelief.
"Incredible speed… but let's see how long you can dodge."
He jumped into the air and instantly appeared behind her.
"Mountain-Breaking Kick!" he roared, slamming his foot toward her side.
She didn't see it coming.
The kick landed—though she managed to shield herself with her elbow, the impact still reddened her fair skin. Pain surged through her arm, but her focus didn't waver.
The male cultivator landed gracefully and smirked.
"I don't know why you insist on continuing, but I'm warning you—next time, I won't go easy. If you have a weapon, use it. Your soft hands won't be enough."
She chuckled, unbothered by his provocation.
"Oh?" she said softly.
In the blink of an eye, she vanished again—reappearing behind him. A flash of silver glinted in her hand.
Before he could even turn around, a silver needle pierced into his neck.
With a dull thud, he collapsed onto the platform.
Silence swept the arena.
No one could comprehend what had just happened. In mere seconds, he had gone from arrogant confidence to unconscious defeat.
The host's expression tightened. He turned to a nearby disciple.
"Go check—was he poisoned?"
Just as the disciple was about to move, a figure stood up from the audience.
Lady Qinru.
She fixed her eyes on the girl. There was something about her… something deeper than just talent.
Her gaze pierced through the surface, as if analyzing every layer of her existence.
Then she spoke, her voice clear and resonant, filled with a mysterious power that commanded the attention of all:
"Girl, you have successfully cleared the second advanced round. Now I ask you—do you wish to become my personal disciple?"
An uproar followed.
"Fuck... why is it always like this after every round?!" one participant groaned.
"Shit, when are we even going to get to fight?! Two people have already been selected, and now one's even becoming Lady Qinru's disciple!" another complained, nearly pulling at his own robes in despair.
Some looked ready to cry.
But the girl didn't seem surprised. Her eyes turned calmly to Lady Qinru, and—
To be continued...