The wide expanse of the sect's grand ceremonial grounds buzzed with activity. At the center stood a grand stage made from refined spirit jade, polished to perfection, its surface gleaming faintly beneath the soft glow of the descending sun. Disciples and elders alike gathered in large numbers, forming a ring around the raised platform, their hushed conversations blending with the distant chime of spirit bells and the rustle of robes in the breeze.
On the stage itself, nine ornate seats were arranged in a semicircle, each intricately carved and adorned with sect emblems. Eight of these seats were already occupied by esteemed elders—respected cultivators, each exuding a powerful presence. Their robes fluttered gently under their spiritual auras, and their gazes remained poised and calm. The ninth seat, located at the far corner of the semicircle, remained conspicuously vacant.
Sitting in the central and slightly elevated seat was a middle-aged man with a steady and authoritative bearing. His presence was unmistakably dominant—this was Li Tian, Palace Master of the Cloud Sky Sect. He surveyed the surrounding crowd with composed eyes, but as he glanced toward the empty seat, a sigh escaped his lips.
"Sigh… It seems that Elder Fang Ming will not attend this ceremony," he said, voice calm yet carrying a faint trace of disappointment.
The man seated third to his left turned slightly in response. He was clad in flowing yellow Daoist robes, their fabric laced with elegant golden patterns that shimmered subtly under the light. His expression was serene as he nodded in agreement.
"Indeed, Palace Master," he said respectfully. "Elder Fang Ming has always been Dao-oriented, cultivating in seclusion and keeping himself far from worldly affairs. He's never shown interest in sect matters like these… Perhaps that's the very reason for his exceptional talent and rapid cultivation. His dedication to the Dao is unparalleled."
As he finished speaking, the elder exhaled softly, a look of admiration and faint regret in his eyes.
Li Tian, listening, said nothing more. His eyes lingered on the empty chair in quiet contemplation, the silence around him deepening for a breath.
But then—without warning—a sudden shift occurred in the air.
A brilliant ripple of spiritual energy surged above the platform, drawing the attention of all present. Conversations stilled. Heads turned. Disciples looked up, eyes widening in astonishment.
From the skies above, a figure descended slowly, levitating with calm grace, his long black robes billowing like clouds in the wind. His every movement seemed effortless, like the drift of a feather through space, yet his presence carried an unspoken weight that pressed upon the hearts of all who witnessed it.
Fang Ming had arrived.
He floated down onto the stage without a sound, landing with poise and serenity. His sharp eyes calmly swept across the gathered elders, then to the Palace Master. With a dignified nod, he offered a composed greeting.
The atmosphere shifted instantly.
All the elders—including Palace Master Li Tian—were momentarily stunned. But quickly, their surprise gave way to decorum, and they returned his greeting with respectful nods and courteous smiles. There was still disbelief in their eyes, but none dared show it openly.
Li Tian chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he leaned forward in his seat. His tone took on a teasing edge as he remarked, "You really remembered to come today. I thought you had vanished again into a hundred-year seclusion, attempting to break through to the middle stage of the Saint Realm."
Fang Ming gave a small smile, replying calmly, "Palace Master, don't joke. With my talent, it wouldn't be possible to break through in just a hundred years…"
He paused, then added in a relaxed tone, "Well, putting that aside… I thought I'd accept a few disciples. My palace is far too isolated. It wouldn't hurt to have some servants around."
The words fell like stones into still water.
Li Tian, who had been nodding along casually to the first half of the sentence, suddenly froze mid-motion. His eyes widened in visible shock. Around him, the other elders similarly turned to stare at Fang Ming, as though he had just grown another head.
There was silence—pure, stunned silence—before one elder broke it.
"Junior brother… are you sure you're okay?" he asked, blinking. "Did you hit your head while cultivating?"
Another wave of disbelief washed across the elders.
Li Tian, still processing what he had just heard, slowly nodded, clearly trying to make sense of Fang Ming's words.
Fang Ming, however, remained perfectly calm. He sighed, slightly exasperated, and said, "Don't joke, senior brother. I'm being serious. I even have a candidate already decided for my disciple."
The silence that followed was louder than the crowd's earlier whispers.
Li Tian's expression turned from shock to amazement. He leaned forward again, unable to hide the surprise on his face. "You… you even decided the disciple you're going to choose?" he asked, eyes wide. "Junior brother, it seems the sun has really risen from the West today…"
He chuckled, though his voice still carried disbelief. "By the way… who is that person?"
Fang Ming didn't answer immediately. Instead, his eyes shifted subtly, narrowing as he turned his head to glance toward the crowd gathered below the stage. Amidst the sea of disciples and new arrivals, a faint glimmer of blue marked someone in his vision—an indication only he could see, highlighted by the system bound to his soul.
He found her.
The system had already designated her: Li Yao—the one with blue-tier luck, the hidden phoenix bloodline, and the tragic past.
His eyes lingered on her calm and composed figure.
He said nothing, but the smile that touched the corner of his lips carried certainty.
The ceremony had just begun.