“Jade! It’s not proper to ask someone you barely know about such personal matters, and certainly not in company,” the old man intervened again in a stern voice. The princess deflated, her shoulders sinking as she shrank into her chair, the vibrant energy draining from her posture.

  Cade was quick to wave it off. “Senior, it’s truly not a problem,” he said, turning to the young princess. “I also lived a very boring life. Our family owned a small vineyard. I would rise before sunrise to carry water from the river for washing, cooking, and drinking. After the sun rose, we would leave for the fields, returning home before dusk, sweaty and tired. Then we washed, ate, and soon after went to sleep, only to repeat everything the next day. This is how most villagers live; each day a copy of the last.”

  “That sounds terr…” Jade stuttered, biting her tongue as her mind frantically searched for another word, “...sounds like a hard life. But then… how did you become a cultivator? You’re young, but despite your… responsibilities, your realm is so high already. Or maybe you’re much older than you look?” She inquired in a confused voice, her eyes narrowing at him with suspicion.

  Though the conversation was ostensibly between the two of them, Cade could feel everyone listening in. Amelia and Regina’s ears perked up, though the two women tried not to show their interest, their gazes flickering in his direction before returning to their teacups. It was only natural; people were curious about the lives of others. Nevertheless, he had to be careful with his words. Especially around this Darkheart fellow. Cade had no idea which dubious sect the man hailed from; there was something off about him. Normally, each life signature would pulse with slight emotional fluctuations, but his was mostly static. And his name was ridiculous. Childish, really, except the grim, lean-faced man hardly seemed the type to give himself a ludicrous moniker. This only increased Cade's wariness.

  “As for my age, I’ll be 21 in a few months,” he answered, chuckling softly. “Regarding the rest, it’s a long story for a rainy day. Let’s just say my life didn’t turn out exactly as I imagined, though I still consider myself very privileged. After all, I’m here, among the elite of young cultivators. Who knows, I might even get into the monastery while many will return to their homes with naught but disappointment. Some might not return at all. I do hold a bit of an advantage, after all,” he boasted, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Best to change the course of the conversation, and nothing triggered a noble more than a commoner claiming to be better than them.

  Arthur, the older of the two youngsters, snorted disdainfully. “What advantage could a peasant possibly have? While you were carrying your river water, we were training in cultivation arts. If anyone has an advantage here, it’s us!” The youth struck his chest with an open palm to emphasize his words.

  Var Du Long’s eyes narrowed slightly, his life signature showing a hint of irritation. On the other hand, Darkheart remained unbothered, his negligible emotional fluctuations unchanged.

  Cade smiled inwardly. He recalled reading a social treatise discussing this exact issue among young nobles from several hundred years ago. Despite the passage of time, little seemed to have changed. Their privileged upbringing usually imbued them with feelings of superiority, detaching them from the brutal reality of the cultivation world. They rarely considered their words or their audience, believing themselves untouchable. A few months ago, he might have been irritated by such a comment, but now the insult rolled off him.

  Unexpectedly, Jade came to his defense. “Arthur! Cade is a body refiner. Of course he’ll have an advantage in the physical trial. We’ll be climbing a huge mountain, not fencing for points,” she rebuked the nobleman. Cade offered her a thankful smile, and the princess beamed, puffing out her chest.

  “Hmph. Body cultivators are overrated. There’s a reason why their monasteries aren’t more popular. If not for the Law Severing Art, nobody would bother coming to this shithole. A well-trained qi cultivator will always beat a mindless brute.” Despite being chided by the princess, Arthur maintained his overconfident stance.

  Jade was about to retort, but Cade beat her to it. “I don’t necessarily disagree,” he calmly responded, provoking a few surprised glances, including one from the youngster himself. “Any well-trained cultivator will more often than not beat a mindless brute, assuming neither holds a significant realm advantage. But to assume that all body cultivators are mindless—or brutes—puts your inexperience on display. Presuming less and learning more would be far more conducive to your growth.” In truth, those pearls of wisdom belonged to Master Lao Ren, who often launched into elaborate monologues while his disciple stayed silent, too focused on restraining his pain to speak. On such occasions, the old man would wander through all manner of subjects.

  “What?!” Arthur exclaimed, shooting up from his chair. Roland rose right after him, nodding sharply, indignation written across his face. “Some lowly peasant dares to lecture me, the third heir of the Brightheart Empire?! You uncouth…”

  “Both of you, sit down. And you”—Var Du Long snarled, pointing at Arthur—“need to shut up.” The old Sect Master’s voice brooked no argument.

  Elder Darkheart cast a lazy glance at the old man but didn’t respond. His cultivation might have been quite high in comparison to most cultivators, but next to Var Du Long, he was a pipsqueak. The stunned noble plopped back into his chair, his complexion reddening with suppressed anger. Roland tried to calm him down, but Arthur sharply shrugged off his hand.

  “Behave yourself. You’re no longer in the Empire. The only thing that stands between you and facing the consequences of your words is Darkheart, and he’s not going to protect you inside the monastery. Assuming you even get in. Do you understand?” the Sect Master stated firmly.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Senior is unfair. Why can he say whatever he wants, and I can’t?” Arthur argued weakly, his tone sullen.

  Var Du Long sighed. In that moment, he truly felt his age. He didn’t possess enough patience for these children. He barely had enough for Jade. “Cade was correct in pointing out errors in your judgment, doing so in a respectful way. He also gave you solid advice. And what did you do? Offend him. Can you really not tell the difference?” the old man said, notes of anger sharpening his tone.

  “Arthur, stop arguing with Sect Master Du Long,” Darkheart chose to speak for the first time. His voice was just like his appearance—unpleasant. Cade noted the cadaverous man didn’t do anything to correct the young noble’s behavior. His fluctuations made it clear he didn’t care one way or the other.

  The young Brightheart immediately closed his mouth, throwing Cade a murderous look before turning away. The Asura doubted Arthur had taken the Sect Master’s words to heart. One thing had to be said about the old man: he wasn’t in the habit of taking nonsense from anybody. Cade had no idea how powerful an early Soul Avatar cultivator was, but he suspected this elder wasn’t much weaker, despite not having crossed that boundary yet.

  The atmosphere in the small camp grew heavy. Just as he was about to stand and excuse himself, excited shouting erupted in the distance. “A Saint has appeared! The announcement is coming!” someone exclaimed, and many repeated his words, the cries echoing from all around.

  “We might as well hear it,” Var Du Long said, sighing deeply. He had already calmed down and was back to his normal, stoic self. He pointed at his empty teacup, and the young servant immediately disappeared inside the tent to brew a fresh pot.

  In the meantime, Jade leaned in Cade’s direction, conspiratorially covering her mouth. “By the way, I completely forgot—my father’s head alchemist managed to cure Griswold! He’ll need to start cultivating from the first stage of Qi Condensation, but Master says it should go quicker this time. Sadly, he won’t be able to regain his old face; the bones have already knitted. But at least some of the scarring should go away. Alchemy is pretty amazing, isn’t it? To be able to recover from losing your cultivation,” she whispered.

  The young Asura had been resigned to this news ever since Jade mentioned they were trying to heal Griswold. He just knew it was coming. His bad luck had become so predictable, he now assumed the worst possible outcome for any serious decision he made. Griswold’s face was a paltry consolation; he wasn’t exactly handsome before. Cade had made a huge error by leaving that bastard alive. A mistake that demanded rectification.

  “Yes, a miracle to be sure,” he whispered back, trying to keep the killing intent from his voice.

  Jade smiled under the veil. He saw the princess wanted to add something else, but a booming voice interrupted her, spreading across the thousands of gathered cultivators.

  “Welcome to our Sword Dao Trial! The trial will begin tomorrow at the ninth hour. Anyone in the Skeletal Reinforcement or Foundation Establishment realms is free to climb the mountain. Candidates may ascend using only their own hands and feet. No tools, weapons, or artifacts are allowed. Fighting is allowed, but killing is not. Theft and robbery are likewise banned. Any candidate found breaking these rules will be immediately disqualified and sent off the mountain. All communication between outsiders and candidates is forbidden. Any attempt to rescue a candidate from a fall will result in disqualification unless performed by another candidate. Outsiders attempting to directly interact with candidates or interfere in the trial in any way will be killed on the spot. And just so you understand we have the means to deal with anyone…”

  A ripple of spiritual qi pressure exploded from somewhere near the peak of the mountain, spreading in all directions. When it struck Cade, dark spots danced before his eyes. It was a nauseating, weakening sensation, the likes of which he had never experienced before. The pressure threatened to squash him. Knowing the fluctuations were harmless didn’t help; the feeling itself was overwhelming. He felt Jade clutching onto his forearm as she swayed unsteadily in her chair, beads of sweat appearing on her forehead. Cade shot a quick glance around him and noticed that Amelia, Regina, and Roland had all lost consciousness. In the distance, many young cultivators were dropping like flies. Arthur was down on his knees, vomiting on the expensive carpet. The Sect Master appeared unbothered, but Darkheart was as tense as a drawn bowstring. His life signature finally displayed fluctuations, ranging from irritation to concern. Apparently, he wasn’t entirely emotionless when it came to his own well-being.

  The pressure vanished as quickly as it appeared.

  “Heavens, what terrible power,” Jade whispered, abruptly releasing her grip on his forearm. “Sorry,” she added, quickly lowering her eyes. The veil did little to conceal her blushing complexion.

  “Don’t worry about it. The pressure was indeed something else,” Cade nodded, smiling lightly.

  After this shocking display of strength, the voice resumed. “Thirty-six Sword Masters and four Sword Dao Saints will be observing the trial. If a candidate adheres to the rules and enters the citadel within two weeks’ time, they will have passed. On the northern side of the mountain, a group of one hundred disciples awaits the first candidates. For now, that is all.”

  And then the voice fell silent. A moment later, waves of murmurs rose from all around them as cultivators began discussing what they had just heard. Arthur slowly rose on shaky knees and started shouting at the servants, venting his humiliation. The three unconscious nobles slowly began to regain their senses.

  “Fuck, my head is killing me,” Roland forced the words out, squeezing his temples. Amelia and Regina seemed to be in a similar predicament, their pale faces gradually regaining color.

  “Should we queue up? Otherwise, we might not get our collars in time,” Jade asked, glancing at everyone.

  “You decide. After all, this is your trial,” Var Du Long responded, sipping on tea as if none of this was his concern.

  From Cade’s perspective, it made little difference. When it came to climbing, he felt supremely confident. But Jade might require all the time she could get; he had no idea how well she would do. Even though he didn’t promise the old man to lend her a hand during the trial—and he was sure the proud princess wouldn’t accept his help anyway—Cade now felt he should at least ensure she progressed without being bothered by anyone. The other youngsters didn’t seem interested in going anywhere just yet, likely focused on getting rid of their migraines by circulating spiritual qi. Arthur’s complexion was still rather pale, and he avoided meeting anyone’s gaze.

  Jade glanced questioningly at Cade, who offered her an encouraging grin. “Sure, let’s go."