The mists of the northern marsh broke at last.
When dawn rose, its light spilled across a vast plain of white stone—endless and cold, gleaming like frozen lightning.
At its heart stood a city so immense that the horizon itself seemed to bow before it.
The Imperial Capital of the Xu Empire.
Walls forged from soul-infused jade soared to the heavens. Towers shaped like spears pierced the clouds, while golden banners rippled in the wind, inscribed with ancient runes that thrummed faintly with Dao resonance.
Every cultivator who laid eyes upon it felt a subtle tremor in their heart—an instinct older than fear.
Even Lin Xuan, who had seen the Misty Cloud Peaks at sunrise and the Spirit Sea at dusk, found his breath caught for a moment.
This was not a city.
It was a declaration.
As they approached the colossal gates, the flow of travelers thickened. Sects from all corners of the continent had gathered—each displaying banners that glowed faintly with spiritual light.
The Heavenly Flame Pavilion, their disciples clad in fire-patterned silks.
The Blue Moon Sect, graceful women whose steps left ripples of moonlight in the air.
The Iron Bone Hall, a thousand strong, their armored disciples marching in perfect rhythm.
And among them, the Crimson Sect—their red-robed procession silent, oppressive, and cold.
Yu Ling lowered her gaze as they passed. Her disguise remained intact, but the faint pressure of that crimson aura made her spiritual sense ache.
Lin Xuan said nothing, but his hand brushed the jade token hidden within his sleeve—the relic that had survived their sect's annihilation. The faint pulse of it grew stronger the closer they came to the city.
At the gate, soldiers wearing black-gold armor stood in ranks. Each carried a halberd crackling faintly with spiritual energy. They checked scrolls, tokens, and sect emblems one by one.
When Lin Xuan's turn came, the soldier's gaze swept over him.
"Name."
"Xuan," he said calmly. "A wandering cultivator."
The man frowned. "No sect?"
"None."
He raised his token. "Travel pass, issued in the Northern Plains."
The guard examined it briefly, then waved them through. "Proceed. Cause no disturbance inside the capital. The penalty for violating peace during the Selection is death."
Yu Ling and Chen Mu followed silently.
The instant they stepped through the gate, the city's spiritual pressure descended like an invisible tide.
It was alive.
Ancient formation arrays lay beneath every stone, humming faintly. The streets themselves glowed with faint sigils, guiding the flow of spiritual energy toward the city's heart—where the Imperial Palace stood like a sleeping dragon.
By afternoon, the city was a storm of motion.
Every tavern brimmed with young cultivators.
Every courtyard echoed with the sound of sparring.
The Heavenly Selection was still days away, yet challenges erupted daily—small duels fought to test strength and reputation.
Whispers moved through the crowd like wind through bamboo.
"The Blazing Sun's prodigy has already defeated seven core disciples of the Iron Bone Hall!"
"The Blue Moon Saintess will arrive tomorrow—her beauty's said to charm even spirits!"
"They say the Crimson Sect's Second Elder himself is within the city, though no one dares approach him…"
Lin Xuan and Yu Ling took refuge in a modest inn within the Eastern Quarter, where common cultivators and rogue wanderers stayed.
The air was thick with tension, ambition, and rumor.
Chen Mu pressed close to the window, gazing at the distant palace towers. "It feels… alive," he murmured.
Yu Ling nodded faintly. "The Empire uses ancient Heaven-vein arrays to sustain the capital's formation. Every breath we take here strengthens its defense. If war ever breaks out, this city could become a fortress unmatched under heaven."
Her tone held quiet awe—but also unease.
Lin Xuan's gaze lingered on the horizon. The jade token in his sleeve pulsed again, stronger this time, as though something within the city was calling to it.
Three days later, drums thundered through the capital.
The call of the Heavenly Selection had begun.
From all corners of the empire, sect banners converged toward the colossal square before the Hall of Heaven's Mandate, where an enormous jade platform floated midair, etched with ancient runes.
There, the Emperor himself sat upon a throne of black spirit iron, his robe shimmering like starlight.
Flanking him were five figures—each emanating terrifying, restrained power.
They were the Imperial Envoys, chosen by the Elder from Beyond Stars to oversee the trials.
The crowd fell silent as the head envoy stepped forward. His voice carried like thunder, calm yet absolute.
"By decree of His Majesty, the Heavenly Selection begins.
From today, all registered participants may enter the Preliminary Path—a domain conjured from the Empire's own spiritual arrays.
Within it, only strength, fate, and will shall decide survival.
One hundred will emerge. One shall be chosen."
The jade platform shone brighter.
Then—
A ripple passed through the crowd.
From the western procession, a crimson-robed figure walked forward.
The Crimson Sect.
Behind him stood a line of disciples, their robes flowing like blood. At their center was a man whose presence turned the air cold.
The Second Elder.
He bowed to the Emperor with perfect decorum.
"Your Majesty," he said slowly, "on behalf of the Crimson Sect, we request that all participants be screened. Rumors speak of impostors fleeing justice, hidden among the common ranks."
The Emperor's gaze was unreadable. "The Selection belongs to Heaven, not man. Let Heaven decide."
But the Elder's lips curled faintly. "Even Heaven must not shelter criminals."
A faint pulse of killing intent rippled through the plaza.
Yu Ling's breath caught. Lin Xuan's fingers tightened slightly behind his sleeve.
For a moment, he thought the Elder's gaze brushed over him—an unspoken warning, like a knife pressed to the heart.
Then the sound of laughter broke the tension.
Yan Zixian, the Blazing Sun prodigy, stepped forward, smiling faintly. "Elder," he said, "if Heaven's will is so fragile that it fears the hidden, perhaps your sect should offer to replace it."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The Elder's eyes narrowed. "Watch your tongue, boy."
But Yan Zixian merely bowed with effortless grace. "Of course. My apologies—my tongue sometimes moves faster than my blade."
The crowd burst into low laughter. The pressure dissolved like smoke.
Yet Lin Xuan noticed something others did not—the Elder's shadow on the stone did not match his form. It flickered, twisting faintly, as though something inside him wasn't quite… human.
That evening, as moonlight pooled over the tiled roofs, the Eastern Quarter fell quiet.
Yu Ling stood at the balcony of their room, gazing toward the palace. "The Elder's request wasn't random," she said softly. "They suspect."
Lin Xuan nodded. "But they can't act within the Selection's laws. That's our only shield."
Her eyes lingered on him. "Once the trials begin, that shield will vanish."
He didn't answer. Instead, he looked toward the city's distant walls—where he could feel something ancient stirring.
The jade token at his wrist glowed faintly once more.
For a fleeting instant, he saw a reflection in the window—not his own, but that of a man standing in golden robes, eyes filled with infinite stars.
And then it was gone.
Deep beneath the Hall of Heaven's Mandate, where the Empire's oldest seals lay buried, a circle of robed figures gathered.
At the center of the array floated a crystalline orb—its surface swirling with mist and faint screams.
One of the figures, cloaked in imperial black, spoke in a low tone.
"The fragment has entered the capital. Its resonance grows stronger."
Another voice—cold, almost serpentine—replied,
"Then the hunt begins anew. The Crimson Sect failed to retrieve it in the mountains. Let the Selection finish what their blades could not."
The mist within the orb pulsed violently, forming the faint outline of a youth's face—Lin Xuan's.