Chapter 39: Disciple Selection Ceremony Begins! Where Is The Supreme Elder?! (Patreon)

The Verdant Serenity Valley was a sight to behold, lush and vibrant, cradled within towering mountains. It was here that the Black Rose Sect's Disciple Selection Ceremony took place. After the ceremony, the Sect Master would traditionally claim the privilege of first pick among the new disciples, followed by the five Grand Elders and then the Nascent Soul Elders. Those not chosen but talented enough might be taken in as outer sect disciples, where they would serve as servants with dreams of one day ascending into the inner sect—the only true disciples of the Black Rose Sect.

At the heart of the valley stood a large pagoda in which the Grand Elders were seated. The main seat, however remained empty as it was reserved for the Sect Master, who had yet to exit closed-door cultivation.

Grand Elder Darius, who sat at the right-hand side of the seat of authority, scoffed. "Where is that brat? Just because he has broken through to the Ascendant realm doesn't give him the right to show us such disrespect."

Grand Elder Tenzin, attempting to soothe the situation, replied, "Perhaps there's something holding the Supreme Elder up. I believe he'll be here shortly." His eyes shifted, betraying a slight hint of anxiety.

Grand Elder Lydia remained silent amidst the bickering. Arguing as always, like hatchlings in a nest, she mused. Her gaze was fixed on the sea of participants below, searching for a successor to the Medicine Hall. Amelia had promise, yet her violent streak was more suited for the battleground than the healing gardens. The Medicine Hall demanded cultivators who could temper their inner demons, a trait Amelia sadly lacked.

Grand Elder Wyatt, a bald man with a long white goatee who had the frail appearance of a scholar but the shrewd gaze of a seasoned manipulator, let out a weary sigh. "If the Supreme Elder doesn’t arrive within the next fifteen minutes, we shall commence the ceremony without him. Unfortunately, we simply cannot delay any longer."

Grand Elder Tenzin frowned. He had emphasized the importance of the ceremony to Slifer, but the Supreme Elder remained absent. Even Slifer’s servant, the bald fellow, seemed to have vanished without a trace after being dispatched to fetch him. Just where did he disappear to? he wondered.

Breaking the mounting tension, Grand Elder Lydia finally spoke. "Grand Elder Wyatt, may I have a look at the jade slips?"

"Of course," Wyatt replied, handing over the jade slips to her. Jade slips were crucial at such events. There were over a thousand participants, and each had a jade slip detailing their background and character. It was vital that their character was suited to become a demonic cultivator, or they showed signs that they could be molded into one. The Black Rose Sect couldn’t afford to nurture a disciple who might later spew righteousness at every turn.

***

The participants looked around nervously, exchanging whispers and speculative glances as they awaited the commencement of the selection ceremony. Over a thousand hopefuls from cities under the Black Rose Sect's dominion were present.

“I heard the Jexlarin Clan sent their top three talents this year," murmured a tall youth with striking silver hair.

“Pfft, they're nothing compared to the Vexorin Clan from Wick City,” sneered a girl with piercing green eyes.

While major cities like Wick, Kaizer, and Rizarian were well-represented, there were also participants from smaller villages and towns within the Black Rose Sect's territory. Just my luck to stand out like a sore thumb, thought a young man in white robes. His attire was a far cry from the extravagant silks donned by those from the major cities. But while his clothes spoke of simplicity, his eyes held a sharpness that belied his humble origins.

Every so often, a collective gasp or murmur would rise from the crowd. "Look, that's Ivor from the Zyrklon Clan. They say that he is descended from a Thunder Eagle."

Amidst the murmurs, the shared dream was palpable. To be chosen by the Sect Master was a rare opportunity. Yet, the name on everyone's lips was not the Sect Master but Elder Slifer. Rumors had spread like wildfire about his cultivation level.

“Do you really believe that Elder Slifer has reached the Ascendant realm?” a young woman from Kaizer City whispered.

“It's more than just a rumor,” said another, looking around cautiously before leaning in. “My cousin in the Wizeron Clan said it's true. Can you imagine training under him?”

A third chimed in, “Sure, he’s known to be ruthless, but the chance to study under an Ascendant cultivator? Who wouldn’t risk it?”

William Wick stood tall amidst the crowd, his robes of deep blue embroidered with threads of gold that showed off his status as a spoilt young master. His youthful face, framed by raven-black hair, was alive with laughter as he chatted with the scions of the Vexorin and Zyrklon Clans.

Suddenly, his laughter was cut short as a boy bumped into him. William stumbled, catching himself just in time. His face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anger. The eyes of his peers were upon him, waiting to see how he would react.

Straightening his robes, William turned sharply to face the clumsy offender. Before him stood a plump boy, his eyes wide with alarm. "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to—" the boy stuttered, bowing apologetically.

The cheap fabric of the boy's attire was enough for William to grasp the full picture. With a disdainful sneer, he reached out and slapped the boy, causing him to lose balance and fall onto the muddy ground. “How dare a mere village bumpkin touch me,” he sneered, brushing off his robes with exaggerated disgust.

Laughter erupted around them. "Look at the fatty!" one of the Zyrklon Clan members jested.

Tears welled up in the village boy's eyes as he touched his reddening cheek. I didn’t do anything wrong. Dusty thought bitterly. The weight of his oversized robe had been his downfall. His mother, in her eagerness to send him off looking presentable, hadn't considered the practicalities of such attire.

"I-I was just looking for my friend," Dusty muttered, his voice barely audible over the mockery.

The onlookers whispered and chuckled, enjoying the spectacle. William stood tall, a smug smile playing on his lips. “Let this be a lesson,” he said loudly. “In the world of cultivators, your place is beneath our feet.”

Dusty was aware of his ignorance. The city boys around him spoke of realms and cultivation as if they were common knowledge, while he knew next to nothing. And now he found himself face-down in the dirt, humiliated. I-I thought this was a ceremony for an immortal sect, his mind raced. The realization that he was in a demonic sect filled him with dread. But…it’s too late to back out now.

The young man in plain robes hesitated, his foot hovering mid-step. He was about to intervene when a voice cut through the tension. "Hey, leave him alone," a new figure declared, stepping protectively in front of Dusty.

William's gaze slid from Dusty to the newcomer. He was tall, with broad shoulders that spoke of hard physical labor. Despite having an imposing presence, William sensed no spiritual energy from him. “Oh, and who might you be?"

"I'm Nomed," the tall boy stated simply, extending a hand to Dusty, who gratefully accepted it and scrambled to his feet. "And I'm this one’s friend," Nomed added.

William, feeling the eyes of his companions on him, forced a sneer. "I thought the Black Rose Sect had standards. But it seems they let any village riffraff sully these grounds," he spat out the last word with contempt.

Nomed's eyes narrowed at the insult, but he held his tongue. "Let's go," he said to Dusty, and the two of them began walking away to find a different spot.

William's group burst into fits of laughter, taking jabs at the retreating duo. "Look at those rags!" one jeered. "Probably never seen a silver coin in their lives!" another chuckled.

Yet, deep within, William felt a pang of unease. That gaze... he reflected, remembering Nomed's cold stare. Did I make a mistake? But he quickly pushed the thought away, reassuring himself, I'm the young master of the Wick Clan. Why should I worry about a village bumpkin?

As they walked, Dusty whispered, "I didn’t think you'd make it in time. The village elder was so worried when he couldn't find you."

Nomed gave Dusty a warm, reassuring smile. "I wouldn't miss this for the world," he declared, pausing briefly before clapping a hand on Dusty's shoulder. "This ceremony... it's our ticket to a better life."

Dusty nodded with enthusiasm. If anyone from our village could impress the sect, it'd be Nomed. He's always been exceptional at everything he tried.

***

After the 15 minutes had passed, Grand Elder Wyatt cleared his throat, drawing attention as he stood up. "We can't wait any longer," he declared.

Grand Elder Tenzin released a resigned sigh, "I agree."

Turning towards the crowd of participants, Grand Elder Wyatt greeted them. His voice wasn't loud, yet it carried effortlessly, reaching every ear with crystal clarity. The participants fell silent instantly, their eyes drawn to the imposing figure atop the pagoda.

"Examinees," Grand Elder Wyatt began, "you have already passed an initial evaluation to stand here today, which deems you qualified to attempt the Black Rose Sect tryouts." The participants listened intently, hanging on his every word.

"The first of your trials will be the trial of will." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "A formation will transport your souls to an illusory plane. There, you must ascend a mountain. Only those who reach the summit shall pass. Should you fail to do so within six hours, you will be eliminated."

A wave of murmurs, a blend of shock and awe, rippled through the crowd. Eighty percent fail? some thought, their confidence wavering.

Sensing the rising anxiety, Grand Elder Wyatt raised his hand for silence. "However," he continued, his voice stern, "those who surmount this trial will be guaranteed entry into the Black Rose Sect." He paused, then added almost as an afterthought, "Even if it is as a mere inner disciple."

This time, the murmurs were different—tinged with excitement and determination. I will be one of those who succeed, many thought, their spirits reignited.

"Silence," Grand Elder Wyatt commanded, quelling the rising chatter. "As for the subsequent trials, I will not waste words explaining them now. Only those who pass the first will need to know." His tone left no room for questions.

Nomed, staring up at the Grand Elder, thought resolutely, As long as I pass this, nothing else matters. He didn't care about being taken in as an elder's disciple; he just needed to enter the sect.

Beside him, Dusty shivered. "If I knew it'd be this scary, I'd have stayed in the village herding goats," he whispered to Nomed, trying to lighten the mood. At least goats don't judge you if you can't climb a mountain in your mind.

Meanwhile, the young man wearing white robes narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixated on the Grand Elder. Will is not something I lack,he thought confidently, looking down at the sword at his waist. Only the strongest of wills are qualified to wield a sword.

William snorted dismissively at the first trial. Just as I was told. A test of will. He mused further, If my source is correct, then talent will be next, followed by comprehension. He wasn't content with mere entry into the sect; his ambitions soared higher.

His gaze flickered across the Grand Elders, searching for a specific figure. “For this to work, you need to be here,” William muttered under his breath, feeling a twinge of annoyance.

Author's Note

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