Chapter 32: Sect trial begins

The Sunken Ruins of Taihua stretched far and wide, its crumbling temples and deep ravines standing as monuments to forgotten battles. The air here was thick with residual Qi, remnants of long-dead cultivators lingering in the stone, whispering of the past.

Jin Ye walked through the crowd, his steps steady, his robe shifting in the wind. He wasn't the only one here, of course—thousands had gathered, each carrying their own ambitions.

The noble families made their presence known the moment they arrived, their embroidered robes gleaming with clan insignias, each one a symbol of lineage, wealth, and generations of cultivated power.

At the forefront stood the heirs and prodigies—young masters and ladies who had spent their entire lives shrouded in privilege, trained by top-tier instructors, and granted resources rogue cultivators could only dream of.

Their gazes carried an innate arrogance, a certainty that this trial was just a formality, a stepping stone toward a position they already believed was theirs.

Among them, a few names stood out:

The Bai Clan, known for their mastery of ice-based techniques, their disciples moving with calm precision, their presence cold and untouchable.

The Zhao Clan, whose cultivators carried a domineering aura, specializing in Qi reinforcement and direct combat, their sheer presence forcing weaker cultivators to step aside.

The Ren Family, alchemists and strategists, not the strongest in combat but deadly when it came to planning and resource manipulation.

Each noble stood apart from the crowd, forming their own circles, whispering among themselves, already deciding who was worth acknowledging and who was beneath their notice.

Then there were the rogue cultivators—warriors who had survived the hard way, with nothing but their own strength. Some stood alone, their eyes sharp, their presence coiled like a blade ready to strike. Others moved in small groups, uneasy alliances formed out of necessity.

Among them, a handful of alchemists and formation specialists lingered near the edges, likely seeking a path into the sect that didn't require raw power. They were careful, observant.

And then there were the overconfident fools—those who had barely reached the 8th stage of Qi Refinement and thought it made them special.

Jin Ye smirked to himself.

They wouldn't last long.

This wasn't just a test of talent. It was a battlefield.

The Azure Sky Sect didn't just recruit disciples—they forged them in fire. And those who couldn't withstand the heat? They'd be left behind, or worse.

His gaze swept across the gathered cultivators, sizing them up, weighing their worth.

Then, something familiar caught his attention.

His silver eyes flicked to the side.

Wang Yiran.

Jin Ye almost chuckled.

The last time he'd seen the arrogant young master, he had been left in the dirt, his pride shattered for all to see.

And yet—somehow, he was still here.

Jin Ye studied him, noting the changes. He wasn't the same as before. The arrogance was still there, but it had been tempered. His eyes held something new—desperation. Determination.

And his Qi had grown.

7th-stage Qi Refinement.

Jin Ye tilted his head slightly.

No doubt he used his families resources to forcefully propel his cultivation level. Too bad it wasn't enough.

Jin Ye found it almost amusing.

Then, Wang Yiran saw him.

For a moment, the smirk on his lips flickered, just slightly, before he forced it back into place.

Jin Ye simply smirked.

"So you're still here? Interesting."

Wang Yiran's jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides, but he didn't move.

He wasn't foolish enough to provoke Jin Ye now.

Not here. Not yet.

Jin Ye turned away, his smirk widening.

He had bigger things to focus on.

Jin Ye barely had time to take another step before he heard a sharp gasp from the crowd.

"What the hell?!"

A familiar voice cut through the tense atmosphere, and before Jin Ye could even turn, Song Yuan was already pushing through the crowd toward him.

The outer sect disciple stopped in his tracks, staring at Jin Ye like he had just witnessed a ghost. His eyes flickered with disbelief, his mouth opening and closing as if struggling to find the right words.

Finally, he exhaled, shaking his head. "No way. No damn way."

Jin Ye raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

"Something wrong?!" Song Yuan pointed at him, voice rising. "You—" He hesitated, scanning Jin Ye's Qi presence, his expression twisting from shock to outright disbelief.

Then he grabbed Jin Ye by the sleeve and pulled him slightly to the side, lowering his voice.

"You were 4th-stage Qi Refinement a month ago," he hissed. "Now you're at 9th-stage?!" His eyes darted over Jin Ye again, as if checking for signs of Qi deviation, instability—anything to make this make sense.

Nothing.

Jin Ye's aura was steady, controlled, solid.

Song Yuan rubbed his face, still trying to process it. "Do you even understand how ridiculous that is? That kind of progress should've ruined your foundation!"

Jin Ye shrugged, completely unbothered. "Guess I got lucky."

Song Yuan stared at him. Then let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "No. No, this isn't luck. This is freakish."

Jin Ye smirked. Finally, someone was starting to understand.

Song Yuan's reaction wasn't exactly quiet.

A few heads turned their way, curious cultivators picking up on the conversation.

"Did he just say 9th-stage?"

"No way. He must've misspoken."

"Wait… isn't that the guy who humiliated Wang Yiran?"

More whispers spread. Some scoffed, dismissing it outright.

"Bullshit. No one jumps five stages in a month."

"Probably an exaggeration."

But others weren't so quick to dismiss it. A few cultivators carefully probed Jin Ye's Qi, their expressions shifting ever so slightly.

The realization was starting to creep in.

Jin Ye wasn't here just to participate.

He was here to crush the competition.

Wang Yiran's expression twisted as he caught wind of the murmurs. His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists.

Meanwhile, Jin Ye?

He just smirked, letting them talk.

They'd see soon enough.

The moment the sect elder released his Qi, the air grew thick, heavy, pressing down on the gathered cultivators like a storm hanging overhead.

Some of the nobles barely reacted, their expressions calm, though a few clenched their fists behind their backs, unwilling to show weakness. Their training had prepared them for pressure like this—but even they weren't unaffected.

The rogue cultivators fared worse. A few staggered slightly, their breath hitching, as if their bodies instinctively wanted to retreat. Some fought against it, their jaws tightening, eyes flashing with the fierce will of survivors. Others grimaced, beads of sweat forming at their brows, but they held their ground.

The alchemists and formation specialists, those who weren't warriors, fared the worst. A few gasped aloud, their hands gripping their robes as they struggled to steady their breathing. One clenched his teeth so hard a small crack echoed from his jaw.

Yet, no one fell.

No one dared to.

Even the most overconfident fools, the ones who had strutted in believing themselves invincible, now stood stiffly, their bravado replaced with nervous silence.

Jin Ye, standing among them, merely tilted his head, his silver eyes gleaming with amusement.

This was nothing compared to what he had faced before.

Silence.

The air grew heavy, as if the ruins themselves were holding their breath.

A figure descended from above, robes billowing as they landed effortlessly at the center of the trial grounds.

A sect elder.

His eyes swept over the crowd, sharp and cold, as if he could already tell who would make it and who would be left bleeding in the dirt.

When he spoke, his voice carried without effort, yet it felt like a blade scraping against their ears.

"This is your final moment of peace before the trial begins," the elder said. "Treasure it."

The weight of his presence sank deeper, forcing even the nobles and rogue cultivators to straighten their backs.

"Many of you believe this trial will be nothing more than a stepping stone," he continued, his gaze lingering on the overconfident ones, the ones who had treated this like a mere formality.

"You think yourselves talented, special—untouchable."

A pause. Then—a sharp smirk.

"You are not."

The wind shifted as his Qi flared ever so slightly, causing cracks to form beneath his feet.

"This ruin may be lower level, but do not be mistaken—it is still dangerous. It is filled with traps, ancient formations, and beasts that have survived far longer than any of you."

His eyes narrowed.

"If you are careless, if you are weak—you will not leave."

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd.

Even the ones who had been mocking weaker competitors just moments ago found themselves swallowing hard.

Jin Ye, on the other hand, just smirked. He had prepared for this.

Without another word, the elder raised his hand, and a deep rumbling echoed through the ruins.

The golden barrier at the far end of the trial grounds shimmered, runes lighting up as the massive stone gates groaned open.

Beyond them—shadows stretched across the broken landscape.

Ruined temples. Crumbling pillars. The scent of decay and dormant power hung in the air.

The unknown awaited.

The elder's gaze swept over them one last time.

"Enter."

Hesitation seized the crowd.

Then—the first cultivators surged forward.

Some moved with confidence, others with cautious steps. The weakest among them hesitated, second-guessing themselves.

Jin Ye?

He walked forward at his own pace, calm as ever.

This was just the beginning.