Chapter 4: A Peerless Demon Lord… With Only Ding-Lower Aptitude?

For the next few days, Xiao Yifeng was the picture of obedience.

He stayed quietly on the flying ship, and after they landed, he remained in the temporary disciple quarters. Aside from exchanging a few whispered words with Ye Jiusi, he made no extra moves. As for Liu Hanyan, she acted as if she had never met him, treating him like air.

One morning, the sun climbed slowly to the center of the sky. The call of distant spiritual birds echoed through the azure expanse, and white clouds drifted lazily on a gentle breeze.

Xiao Yifeng and the other children were led to an immense plaza.

The ground was paved entirely with white marble, gleaming so brightly under the sun that it made one feel insignificant, like an ant crawling on a mirror. Far in the distance, clouds drifted like sheer gauze—not above them, but floating beneath their feet.

Four magnificent stone bridges extended from the edges of the plaza. They had no piers or supports, hanging suspended in the void. One was the bridge they had just crossed; two others extended flatly into the sea of clouds, their destinations unknown.

The final bridge, located directly ahead, slanted sharply upward. It pierced into the depths of the high clouds like a mighty dragon leaping into the heavens, exuding an aura of solitary pride.

At the end of this dragon-bridge stood a majestic palace. A massive plaque hung above its gates, inscribed with three golden words:

[Taiji Hall]

In front of the hall, nine enormous jade thrones were arranged in a semi-circle. The top of each throne bore a unique totem—flames, a gourd, a sword, and so on. The central throne was the largest, carved with a black-and-white Taiji diagram.

In the center of the plaza, huge bronze cauldrons were arranged in three rows of three, totaling nine. Wisps of green smoke curled up from them, filling the air with a scent that cleared the mind and settled the soul.

Standing beside Xiao Yifeng were dozens of boys and girls, all around ten years old. These rural children had never seen such immortal grandeur. They stood with mouths agape or looked around nervously, too awed to speak.

Surrounding the children were rows of young men in blue robes and jade crowns. They stood like statues, their expressions solemn. Amidst the swirling mists, they looked like descended immortals.

Gazing at this familiar scene, Xiao Yifeng felt a trance-like daze wash over him. Memories of his past life in the Taiji Hall flashed through his mind—humiliation, triumph, judgment.

I haven’t been back to the Wentian Sect in so long. To think that fate would bring me here again.

They didn’t have to wait long.

Creak—

The heavy doors of Taiji Hall swung open.

Over twenty figures slowly walked out. They varied in height and build, men and women alike, each radiating a terrifying pressure. These were the Hall Masters of the Wentian Sect and their personal disciples.

Nine of them took their seats on the jade thrones. The rest stood respectfully behind them.

“Greetings to the Sect Leader and the Hall Masters!”

The blue-robed disciples on the plaza bowed in unison, their voices thundering.

Some of the sharper kids in the crowd hurriedly mimicked them, shouting, “Greetings to the Immortals!”

The rest of the children, waking from their daze, scrambled to bow as well.

“Rise.”

A dignified voice drifted down from the center throne. It wasn’t loud, but it resonated in everyone’s ears.

Xiao Yifeng raised his head along with the others.

The man in the center was tall and imposing, dressed in dark green robes. His beard flowed down to his chest, and his eyes crackled with an inner light like trapped lightning. He exuded authority without anger, a true picture of an immortal sage.

This was the famous Sect Leader of the Wentian Sect, Guangling Zhenren.

Xiao Yifeng stared at him, his eyes filled with complex emotions. Guangling Zhenren noticed the stare but didn’t mind; he assumed it was just another country bumpkin stunned by his presence.

Xiao Yifeng’s gaze shifted to the right.

Seated in the third chair was Liu Hanyan. She wore a snow-white palace dress, her beauty transcending the mortal realm. However, her aura was so cold it felt like a wall of ice, making her seem unapproachable.

She didn’t even glance at him. Her gaze drifted over the crowd with indifferent detachment.

Xiao Yifeng felt a pang of bitterness, but he quickly suppressed it. That was just her nature in those days.

He turned his eyes to the last seat on the left.

Sitting there was a chubby, fair-skinned man with a handlebar mustache. He looked less like a powerful cultivator and more like a wealthy merchant from the mortal world who had just enjoyed a good meal. He wore a blue spiritual robe and tried to look dignified, but compared to the other Hall Masters, he lacked that ethereal “immortal bone.”

Xiao Yifeng’s breath hitched.

This man was his Master from his previous life—Su Qianyi.

Tears pricked Xiao Yifeng’s eyes. It felt like a dream, but even if it was, he didn’t want to wake up. His lips moved silently.

Master…

Ye Jiusi, who was a year older and more observant, noticed Xiao Yifeng staring rudely at the high-ranking elders. Afraid his friend would offend the immortals, he secretly tugged on Xiao Yifeng’s sleeve.

Xiao Yifeng snapped out of it and quickly lowered his head. Fortunately, no one on the dais cared about a staring child.

Did I really go back? Is this a dream or reality? Why would I return to the moment just after my village was destroyed?

His heart was a mess of five flavors—sweet, sour, bitter, spicy, and salty—all mixed together.

“I am Guangling Zhenren, Sect Leader of the Wentian Sect,” the majestic voice spoke again.

“On behalf of the Sect, I welcome you all. You are the proud sons and daughters of heaven, selected from across the lands. You have passed the preliminary tests and met our entry requirements. After the final assessment today, you will officially enter the wall of the Wentian Sect and become our future pillars.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.

“The Wentian Sect has stood for thousands of years, weathering wind and rain to achieve its current status. We are divided into Nine Halls, each with its own unique legacy and secret arts.”

“In a moment, you will be tested for your Spiritual Roots. You will be graded into four ranks: Jia, Yi, Bing, and Ding (A, B, C, D). Based on your rank, the Zhenren will select you. Do you understand?”

“Understood!” the children shouted in unison.

Guangling nodded. “Xuan Yi, preside over the testing.”

“Yes, Master. This disciple obeys.”

A young man stepped out from the ranks of the blue-robed disciples. He was handsome, tall, and carried himself with an air of elegance. He bowed to the Sect Leader, then turned to face the children.

With a wave of his sleeve, a massive device materialized in the center of the plaza.

It was a circular pedestal engraved with I Ching trigrams. Above it floated a large crystal sphere, surrounded by rotating rings of light.

“This is the Spiritual Root Measuring Instrument,” Xuan Yi announced clearly. “When I call your name, come forward and place your hand on the sphere. It will detect your innate talent and emit light. The intensity and color determine your grade.”

He unrolled a scroll. “First. Zeng Niu.”

“I’m here!”

A chubby little boy ran out of the crowd, hands trembling as he pressed them onto the floating sphere.

Hum.

The sphere glowed with a solid green light.

Xuan Yi nodded and recorded the result. “Zeng Niu. Wood Spiritual Root. Grade: Yi-Middle.”

He waved the boy back. “Next. Zhang Lingheng!”

“Here!”

The testing proceeded efficiently. Most of these children had been roughly tested in their villages, so there were few surprises, but the specific grading made everyone nervous.

Xiao Yifeng watched Xuan Yi with a strange expression.

He remembered this man well. Xuan Yi was Sect Leader Guangling’s youngest disciple, a genius in his own right. But the reason he stuck in Xiao Yifeng’s memory was personal: in his past life, after Master Su Qianyi died, Xiao Yifeng’s beloved “Little Senior Sister” had married Xuan Yi.

“Ye Jiusi!”

The name snapped Xiao Yifeng back to the present. He looked at his childhood friend.

“Good luck,” Xiao Yifeng whispered.

“Mmh.” Ye Jiusi nodded, taking a deep breath.

Ye Jiusi walked out of the crowd, looking slightly nervous. He stepped up to the instrument and pressed his palms against the crystal surface.

BOOM!

The sphere erupted with blinding green light, illuminating the entire plaza.

The Hall Masters on the dais sat up straighter. The disciples gasped.

Xuan Yi’s eyes lit up. He smiled warmly at the boy.

“Ye Jiusi. Wood Spiritual Root. Grade: Jia-Upper!”

A sensation! Jia-Upper was the highest possible rating for a new disciple.

Ye Jiusi beamed, rushing back to the line.

“Amazing,” Xiao Yifeng whispered as Ye Jiusi returned.

“Xiao Yifeng!” Xuan Yi called out the next name.

Ye Jiusi patted Xiao Yifeng on the shoulder. “Your turn. Go get ’em.”

Xiao Yifeng walked forward silently, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He knew what was coming.

He placed his hands on the Spiritual Root Measuring Instrument.

Silence.

Then, the instrument seemed to struggle. It flickered weakly, emitting a chaotic mix of colors—red, blue, green, gold, brown—all muddled together in a dim, muddy haze. The light was so faint that if one didn’t squint, they might miss it entirely.

Xuan Yi froze. The warm smile froze on his face.

He tapped the instrument, checking if it was broken. It wasn’t.

He looked at Xiao Yifeng, then back at the pathetic light, his expression turning awkward.

“Xiao Yifeng,” Xuan Yi announced, his voice lacking its previous enthusiasm. “Mixed Spiritual Roots. Grade: Ding-Lower.”