The air was tense.
Forty-six people stood in silence on the wide stone courtyard carved into the mountain — the official trial ground of the Crimson Moon Sect.
Some were whispering. Others sweating. A few mortals looked like they were already praying to every ancestor they could remember.
Among them, only thirteen glowed with faint spiritual energy. The chosen ones. The potential cultivators.
[Narrator] And among those thirteen… one looked like he'd wandered in by mistake while looking for free food.
Yes. Our boy Yun Wao, human disaster.
Then — a gust of wind sharper than a sword.
Out of thin air, a figure appeared in a crimson robe, aura pressing down like an invisible mountain. His sleeves didn't even flutter — the world just made room for him.
The Selection Elder had arrived.
[Narrator] Mid-Golden Core stage. Second strongest in the outer sect. 100% grumpy, 0% impressed.
He scanned the crowd like a teacher already disappointed in the class.
Then his gaze locked onto Yun Wao.
> "A beggar?" he muttered. Loudly. With no shame.
"Interesting…"
He stepped forward, voice suddenly loud enough to shake the stones beneath their feet.
> "The Crimson Moon Sect does not recruit mortals. Not because we are cruel — because we are strong."
"But this year… is different."
"Our Sect Leader is growing old. A successor must be found. And so, for the first time in centuries… we opened our gates."
He looked across all 46 of them.
> "To those who awakened their spiritual roots — you 13 — your trial begins now."
"To the rest… 33 of you have no roots. You cannot cultivate."
A few gasps. One guy straight-up fainted.
The elder didn't blink.
> "But… the sect does not discard the willing."
"If you still wish to stay, you may serve in the Crimson Moon Sect as workers, servants, or assistants. You will be fed, housed, and protected."
"Make your decision after the trial. Now—"
He raised his hand.
> "Let's see if any of you are even worthy of calling yourselves disciples."
FWOOOSH.
A red mist exploded from the earth, devouring the entire trial platform — and the 13 chosen were gone.
[Narrator] Ah yes, nothing says "welcome to the sect" like a soul-devouring fog. Honestly, at this point, we're just skipping paperwork and going straight to trauma.
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