Five days had passed since Yun Yuannan last spoke with Han, filling in a few details he might have overlooked earlier. Now, Han found himself brimming with anticipation.


    Soon enough, nearly everyone expected had arrived. Han spotted Jiang Hengchuan, along with several disciples from Xuandu Temple, all gathered to witness the occasion. Lu Qingmo was taking on a disciple, an event that mattered most to her peers, as they were about to welcome a new fellow disciple into their ranks.


    The impact, however, was minimal—no one stepped forward to object. After all, who could argue against such a perfect match? A talented beauty and her destined mentor—some random naysayer didn’t stand a chance. Taking a disciple was a personal choice, and with both parties in agreement, no one could stop it. Yun Duo’s background was spotless, and after years by Lu Qingmo’s side, this step felt like a natural progression.


    Jiang Hengchuan caught Han’s eye, his gaze flickering briefly. He sent a quiet message to his disciple, Jiang Yingyu, who glanced at his master with a troubled expression before waddling over to Han. The plump young man forced a stiff smile. “Uh… you… me… um…” he stammered, barely stringing a sentence together.


    Han blinked, confused. What’s this guy’s deal? With his ethereal, almost otherworldly looks, was Jiang Yingyu just starstruck?


    “Jiang Yingyu, right? Brother Jiang?” Han took the lead, breaking the awkward silence.


    Relief washed over Jiang Yingyu’s face as he nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes, that’s me!”


    Han suppressed a cringe. What an unfortunate name. “So, what’s up? Why’d you come over?”


    “My master asked you to step over for a chat,” Jiang Yingyu managed, glancing toward Jiang Hengchuan, who was already heading outside. “He’s got something to discuss.”


    Han nodded. “Alright, I’ll head over now.” He followed, curious. Jiang Hengchuan was Lu Qingmo’s senior brother—their relationship was lukewarm at best, with no real bad blood. Han figured it was worth hearing him out.


    Jiang Hengchuan led him to a secluded corner and cut straight to the point. “Han.”


    “Senior Jiang, what’s this about?” Han asked.


    “You know Lu Qingmo’s identity, don’t you?”


    “Of course. She’s a disciple of Xuandu Temple.” Han resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Obviously. I’m this close to knowing her inside and out. If I didn’t even know that, I might as well throw myself at Senior Sister and call it a day.


    “Then let me ask—your thoughts on Xuandu Temple?” Jiang Hengchuan pressed.


    Han paused, considering. “The best in the world. I’ve admired it for ages.”


    Jiang Hengchuan went quiet, eyeing him. This kid’s got some nerve. Even Xuandu’s own disciples wouldn’t dare claim they were the absolute best.


    “The best in the world might be a stretch,” Jiang Hengchuan said dryly.


    Han feigned shock. “What? You mean they’ve surpassed even that?”


    Jiang Hengchuan stared, momentarily dumbfounded. What kind of logic is this? “Xuandu Temple serves as the state religion of Great Qi, overseeing the Ghost and Spirit Division and protecting the people. Its merits are boundless, and it’s revered by all.”


    Han nodded earnestly. “True. Whatever their goals, the Ghost and Spirit Division, under Xuandu’s guidance, keeps Great Qi’s counties safe. Without them, regular folks wouldn’t stand a chance against demons or rogue cultivators. Judge the deed, not the intent—that’s why so many hold Xuandu in high regard.”


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Jiang Hengchuan gave a slight nod. “The temple hopes Lu Qingmo will return to the mountain. If she leaves, what’s your plan?”


    “I’ll follow Mo’s lead,” Han replied simply.


    “She’s guided your cultivation from the start,” Jiang Hengchuan continued. “She’d make an excellent master for you.”


    Han fell into thought. Master and disciple, huh? Sounds kind of thrilling. The dynamic adds a whole new layer—gets the blood pumping just thinking about it.


    “Xuandu may not be the undisputed best, but it’s among the top-tier traditions,” Jiang Hengchuan added. “It offers the finest training for its disciples. With your talent, you’d be valued highly. Has Lu Qingmo mentioned this to you?”


    Han saw through the conversation now—Jiang Hengchuan was trying to recruit him. It caught him off guard. According to Lu Qingmo, Jiang and his family had once tried to trade for her Thunder-Fire Seal, only to be turned down. Yet here he was, still extending an olive branch. Maybe her claim that he was upright wasn’t just talk.


    Han was mulling it over when footsteps interrupted. Lu Qingmo appeared, grabbing his arm and pulling him away, leaving Jiang Hengchuan with a single line: “Senior Brother Jiang, you’re overstepping.”


    Jiang Hengchuan didn’t react to her words. Instead, his gaze lingered on her hand gripping Han’s arm. He froze. The icy, untouchable Lu Qingmo, doing something like this? His mind raced, piecing together bits of intel about Han—how, after a certain point, the so-called genius of Taibai stopped returning home, spending his nights at the Ghost and Spirit Division’s headquarters. Alone, that detail had seemed odd. Now, it clicked into place, and Jiang Hengchuan’s brain short-circuited. Is there something off about Lu Qingmo?


    “Don’t mind what others say,” Lu Qingmo told Han as they walked. “Do what you want—don’t let anyone sway you. You know how special you are. Even well-meaning advice might not end well for you. Trust your own heart.” She paused. “I’m off to find Yun Duo now.” With that, she strode off, clearly swamped with tasks.


    Han smiled. Mo’s always looking out for me.


    “Brother Zhou!” a voice called. Han turned to see Cui Yaozhi approaching, flanked by Jiang Yanyao of Suzhen Palace, Wang Zai of Xuandu Temple, and a young man in a Taoist robe with a sword strapped to his back. Judging by his attire and company, Han guessed he was Suo Xian, the prodigy of Feixian Dao—a peerless talent in his own right.


    These four represented the pinnacle of their respective traditions, their reputations towering. It seemed Lu Qingmo’s disciple ceremony had drawn them all out. Han walked over, greeting Cui Yaozhi with a grin.


    “Brother Zhou, let me introduce you,” Cui Yaozhi began. “This is the saintess of Suzhen Palace—”


    Jiang Yanyao cut in with a smile. “Cui, your info’s outdated. Zhou and I have already met.”


    Wang Zai chuckled. “Same here—I’ve crossed paths with Brother Zhou before.”


    Suo Xian’s sharp gaze sized Han up before he gave a curt nod. “Looks like I’m the only one who hasn’t met the famed genius of Black Cloud. Feixian Dao, Suo Xian.”


    “Han,” he replied. Suo Xian wasn’t his birth name—upon becoming Feixian Dao’s chosen, his past identity dissolved, replaced by his title. It was tradition: no family name, no given name, just a daoist moniker to signify the pursuit of the Great Path.


    “Don’t sell yourself short,” Cui Yaozhi said. “From the day we set foot in Black Cloud Town, who among us didn’t already know Brother Zhou? We’ve been ‘acquainted’ in spirit for a while.”


    Wang Zai laughed lightly. “Well said, Brother Cui.”


    The five stood together, chatting and laughing, the atmosphere warm and easy. Each was among the world’s brightest young stars, their personalities distinct yet harmonious in this moment. They didn’t fawn over one another, nor did they tear anyone down—their confidence shone quietly within.


    Han felt it keenly: the pride and unshakable belief radiating from these four. Yet in casual conversation, they were calm, composed. It only deepened his disdain for the arrogance of Tianlong Gate’s disciples—a stark contrast driven, no doubt, by their ties to Yunjiang Dragon Palace. His bond with the dragon maiden had naturally put him at odds with them.


    Eyes from the crowd kept drifting their way, emotions mixed—envy, awe, disbelief. Five peerless prodigies from top-tier traditions, radiating charisma, were impossible to ignore. To many, Han, a nobody from the sticks, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with such figures—confident, unflinching, every bit their equal—was surreal. The sight hit harder than watching him trade blows with a Bone-Forging expert.


    How did he get here? they wondered. Yet, knowing his feats, it made sense. A commoner who, with only Organ Refinement mastery, could rival Bone-Forging strength—anywhere he went, no one would dare underestimate him. Give him a top-tier martial art, and he’d rocket to the elite tier of prodigies. His future was limitless; only a fool would dismiss him—and in doing so, dismiss themselves.


    When talent and power reached such heights, background ceased to matter. Smart people recognized a peer when they saw one. Of course, the world was big enough for a few “less-than-smart” prodigies to pop up now and then—Han knew that well from his past life scrolling the internet.


    The ceremony continued, with Yun Duo officially becoming Lu Qingmo’s disciple. Remarkably, no one caused a scene. The day unfolded smoothly, a rare and quiet triumph amid the gathering of legends.