Among the eleven youths, not a single one succeeded in awakening the ancient artifacts sealed within the cavern of Hundred Implements Cliff.

  Aside from Yun Che, there had been one other girl—silent and withdrawn—who managed to advance more than ten feet into the grotto. Yet she too was expelled without mercy.

  The trial ended that very day.

  Those deemed “without fate” were escorted down the mountain.

  Yun Che was sent back to the Yun Clan of Qinglan City by the same Zhang-surnamed cultivator in white robes who had guided them on their ascent. His expression remained as cold and distant as before. Traveling with them were Yun Han and Yun Feng—no longer mere candidates, but disciples-in-waiting.

  Sword light cut through the heavens. Violent winds roared.

  The man surnamed Zhang clasped his hands lightly toward Yun Han, a faint, practiced smile appearing on his face.

  “Junior Brother Yun Han, congratulations on being accepted under Elder Dao Xu. Your path ahead is boundless.”

  Yun Han made no effort to hide his arrogance. He replied calmly, as though stating an obvious truth:

  “My master has already spoken. Once I return home and settle my affairs, he will formally transmit the Profound Frost True Canon and ice-aspected techniques to me.”

  Yun Feng rolled his eyes.

  “Tch. Big talk. Just because you found yourself a good master. I’m entering the Artifact Refining Hall—do you think I’ll ever lack magic treasures or pills?”

  Yun Han glanced at him with disdain, then turned his gaze toward Yun Che, who had remained silent throughout. A sneer curled his lips.

  “Well? I told you long ago, Stone. Immortal sects are no place for mountain trash like you. Have you and your father finally awakened from that foolish dream?”

  Yun Che slowly lifted his head. His face was utterly expressionless, as though the words had never reached him. Instead, he addressed the cultivator ahead in a dry, steady voice:

  “Esteemed Immortal, please send me back to Qinglan City as soon as possible.

  My parents… are waiting.”

  Being completely ignored, Yun Han’s eyes flashed cold.

  “Stubborn country bumpkin,” he scoffed. “Go back to your herb basket. That’s the fate meant for you.”

  A trace of complexity flickered across the Zhang cultivator’s eyes as he swept his gaze over the three youths—whose destinies had already diverged beyond comparison. He said nothing more. With a flick of his sleeve, the sword light surged forward, leaving the mist-shrouded peaks of the Profound Frost Sect far behind.

  The return journey was still made by sword flight, cutting through icy gales.

  But Yun Che’s heart was no longer the same.

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  On the way up, he had carried a fragile, burning hope, his eyes filled with longing as he gazed toward the clouds.

  On the way back, there was only cold desolation. Even the drifting clouds felt like silent mockery.

  Soon, Qinglan City appeared on the horizon.

  Before they even landed, Yun Che could see lanterns blazing and crowds surging around the Yun Clan estate. When the sword light descended into the great plaza before the ancestral hall, the sight before him made his pupils tighten.

  Nearly a hundred banquet tables filled the square—far more lavish than the feast held when he had departed half a month earlier. Rare delicacies gleamed beneath lantern light. Toasts rang out endlessly. Almost the entire Yun Clan had gathered, even distant branches summoned home.

  Laughter and congratulations filled the air.

  At the center stood his father, Yun Chengshan; his eldest uncle; and his third uncle, Yun Qingmo, surrounded by layers of relatives offering relentless praise—especially Yun Chengshan, once overlooked, now treated as a man reborn.

  “Chengshan! Your Che’er has truly leapt the dragon gate! Soon you’ll be the father of an immortal—who in Qinglan City wouldn’t honor you?”

  “Second Brother, I always knew this fortune would fall upon your son! Just wait—your days of hardship are over!”

  “Congratulations! My useless boy only made it in thanks to Che’er’s blessing! Tonight, we drink until dawn!”

  Yun Chengshan smiled, years of bitterness seeming to melt away.

  Yet deep inside, a heavy stone remained suspended, refusing to settle.

  Cheer… you must succeed…

  Nearby, Yun Che’s mother was likewise surrounded, voices overflowing with warmth and expectation.

  “You’ve suffered long enough, Sister-in-law.”

  “What a fine son you raised!”

  “My daughter just came of age—why not bind our families together?”

  From a distance, Yun Che’s eldest uncle watched coldly, amusement hidden behind his smile.

  Enjoy it while you can. Once the immortal leaves and the truth settles… let’s see how this play ends.

  Just as the celebration reached its peak—

  An ice-blue streak of sword light descended from the heavens, landing at the center of the plaza like a freezing final note.

  Silence fell instantly.

  Every voice stopped. Every breath was held.

  The Zhang cultivator stood calmly amid the stunned crowd. His gaze swept across the scene of worldly expectation and vanity. He sighed inwardly—had his own hometown not looked the same all those years ago?

  His eyes settled on Yun Che. A flicker of pity passed unnoticed.

  “The Dao is merciless,” he murmured. “Worldly ties must be severed.”

  Sword light rose again. His figure vanished, leaving only a faint voice drifting back:

  “Those chosen will depart in three days.

  Settle your mortal affairs.”

  The moment he left, the tension shattered.

  “Han’er!” Yun Han’s father rushed forward, gripping his son’s arm. “Elder Dao Xu truly accepted you?!”

  Yun Han lifted his chin.

  “Within ten years, I will stand at the forefront of this generation.”

  Laughter erupted.

  Nearby, Yun Feng yawned lazily.

  “Relax, Dad. I’m officially an apprentice of the Artifact Refining Hall now.”

  Yun Han scoffed.

  “A glorified errand boy. Kneeling and begging just to light furnaces—how honorable.”

  Yun Feng shot back,

  “Say that again after a refining contest. Let’s see who shines whose boots.”

  Amid the noise, Yun Che stood alone.

  From the moment the immortal descended, Yun Chengshan had watched his son closely. On Yun Che’s calm—lifeless—face, there was no joy. Only exhaustion, loneliness, and something broken beyond words.

  His heart plunged.

  “Stone…” Yun Chengshan whispered, pushing through the crowd.

  Yun Che’s mother followed, hope still trembling in her eyes.

  “Che’er… what did the immortals say?”