Representatives from every major academy and institution had gathered.
Even the Royal Academy was present.
Each of them radiated the pressure of a powerful expert, their auras restrained yet unmistakable. They had come with a single purpose: to take away those who met their standards and mold them into future pillars of their respective factions.
All examinees had already filled out their selection forms. They had listed their preferred institutions in order of priority. If an examinee met the criteria of one on their list, they would be accepted. If not, they would be assigned elsewhere at random.
The rules were simple.
The consequences were not.
Not far from where Stephen stood, a massive holographic display hovered in the air. Four translucent pages glowed softly, filled with names.
Every participant.
Ranked.
Ascending order.
At the very top, one name shone with a brilliant golden luster.
Wilson Thorn.
The son of the City Lord of Earth Mountain City.
Stephen's gaze lingered briefly. Wilson's father was a renowned expert at the Half-step Emperor Realm, one of the most formidable figures on the continent. It was said that when true Emperors were absent, Half-step Emperors ruled as the undisputed masters.
Stephen followed the name to its owner.
Wilson Thorn stood tall and proud, a thin yet imposing man in his twenties. The aura of a Master Realm expert surrounded him unmistakably. He wore an expensive tailored suit, and a massive blade rested across his back.
His posture was relaxed.
Confident.
Around him gathered a crowd of admirers, many of them women, their gazes filled with open admiration.
Second place caught Stephen's attention next.
Elsa Wood.
She stood apart from the crowd, leaning casually against a tree. Dressed in a simple green dress, her hair was tied into a neat ponytail with a silver ribbon. A dark green scabbard rested against her left side, her arms crossed beneath her chest.
She was young.
Yet her presence was cold and aloof, carrying a quiet sharpness that discouraged idle conversation. Long, slender legs and a slim waist gave her an elegant silhouette, but it was her eyes that stood out most.
Clear.
Unmoved.
Elsa Wood was the youngest daughter of the Sword Cloud Pavilion's Pavilion Master, an expert at the peak of the Grandmaster Realm. Though the pavilion currently lacked a living Emperor, her grandfather had once stood at that realm.
Even without an Emperor, their prestige endured.
Stephen's gaze shifted.
Most of the other examinees had already gathered behind representatives of their chosen institutions. Some stood nervously. Others carried pride openly on their faces.
Then he noticed something unexpected.
Only three people stood with him beneath the banner of Great Sword Mountain.
Including himself.
Stephen glanced toward their representative.
The elder was thin to the point of frailty, as though a strong gust of wind might knock him over. Yet his presence contradicted his appearance entirely. His eyes gleamed with sharp brilliance, like a blade honed to its limit.
A true sword cultivator.
Once the sorting process concluded, the representatives stepped forward in turn. One by one, they summoned their flying artifacts, radiant vessels of various forms that hovered into the air with humming power.
................
The elder from Great Sword Mountain wore loose gray robes that fluttered faintly in the air.
Without a word, he waved his hand.
A silvery sword burst forth from his sleeve.
At first, it was no larger than three fingers wide and barely ten inches long, its surface etched with dense, intricate runic markings. Then, before their very eyes, the sword began to expand.
Metal groaned softly.
Runes ignited.
In the span of a breath, the blade grew into a colossal greatsword over fifteen meters long, its edge gleaming like frozen moonlight.
Stephen felt his breath hitch.
Standing beside him were the other two selected disciples.
Wilson Thorn.
And Elsa Wood.
It turned out both of them had listed Great Sword Mountain among their preferred destinations. Having exceeded its criteria with ease, they were naturally taken along.
The elder stepped onto the sword first, planting himself near the very tip as if it were solid ground.
He did not turn around.
"Climb on," he said flatly. "What are you staring at?"
The command carried weight.
Stephen, Wilson, and Elsa stepped onto the blade in turn. The sword was wide enough for them to sit comfortably, one behind the other. The moment they settled, the elder spoke again.
"Hold on well," he said in a crisp, heavy tone. "If you fall off midway, there will be no saving you."
Then—
His aura erupted.
A vast pressure surged outward, far exceeding that of ordinary Grandmasters. The air itself seemed to stiffen beneath the sheer force of it.
Wilson and Elsa stiffened simultaneously.
"A King Realm expert…" Wilson muttered under his breath.
Elsa's eyes narrowed slightly. "So Great Sword Mountain sends someone like this just to escort new disciples."
A flicker of excitement passed through Wilson's gaze.
Stephen felt it too.
If this was merely the one sent to fetch them, then how terrifying must the sect itself be?
The sword lifted from the ground.
Then it shot forward.
Wind roared past them as the greatsword pierced the sky, breaking through layers of cloud within minutes. The land below shrank rapidly, rivers and forests dissolving into distant streaks of color.
As they flew, the elder spoke again.
"It will take fifteen days at the least. A month, if conditions are poor," he said. "Great Sword Mountain lies deep within the Western Mountains."
Stephen leaned forward slightly, listening intently.
"The Western Mountains are far more dangerous than the forests you know," the elder continued. "Beasts there are stronger, more vicious. Many areas remain unexplored even now."
He paused briefly.
"Rifts exist throughout the mountain range. Unmapped. Unstable. Too treacherous to survey completely. As a result, powerful beasts roam freely."
Stephen's grip tightened unconsciously.
"The forests are accessible," the elder said. "Experts form teams and clear them regularly. But the mountains are different. They repel casual exploration."
Danger.
But also—
"Opportunity," the elder said, as if reading their thoughts. "Spiritual energy is denser there. Treasures are more abundant. Rare ores, precious herbs, spirit fruits. Some may be consumed directly. Others must be refined by alchemists."
Stephen's eyes shone faintly.
"The Western Mountains are one of the continent's great danger zones," the elder went on. "Few dare to venture there. Fewer still return."
Then his voice hardened.
"Understand this well. Great Sword Mountain is not a place where family influence holds weight. Titles mean nothing. Background means nothing."
Only strength.
"Here," the elder said, "only your own power determines your standing."
Wilson seemed only mildly attentive. Elsa listened with polite detachment.
Stephen, however, absorbed every word.
This world was still new to him.
Beyond the rift, beyond the forest he had once been chased through, he had barely traveled at all. To him, every sentence painted a wider horizon, vast and intimidating.
The elder glanced back briefly, his gaze sweeping over the three of them. Majestic waves of qi rolled steadily from his body as the greatsword hummed beneath their feet, cutting cleanly through the sky.
Ahead of them lay the Western Mountains.
And beyond that—
Great Sword Mountain.