The toll of the bells echoed through the clouds, vibrating from the mountainside to the very heavens.
Today was the Centennial Grand Ancestral Sacrifice. The summit of Ancestral Peak was the holiest sanctuary recognized by every sect in the Righteous Alliance. Four thousand years ago, after the Founding Grandmaster Su Wenchen fell, the decree was set: a grand sacrifice would be held every hundred years without fail.
At the foot of the mountain, the mist hung heavy and cold, like a damp net draped over the forest.
Several "Spirit-Core Shuttles" were parked on a temporary platform. Runes glowed along their metallic hulls, and a line of eye-catching crimson characters was plastered across the side: "CHANGE YOUR FATE".
"Spirit-Core Shuttle! Ten low-grade spirit stones per trip!" a man shouted. "Traveling via the mountain's spirit-vein tracks—you'll reach the summit in the blink of an eye! Front-row seats at the observation deck let you see the altar's runes clearly!"
The crowd immediately erupted in whispers.
"Ten stones? That's enough for three Protection Talismans..."
"Don't be a cheapskate! It's once in a hundred years! Miss this, and your destiny is sealed!"
Scalpers moved through the shadows, their voices low: "Tickets here! Tickets here! If you're late, you'll be climbing for two hours!"
Suddenly, the crowd parted. A middle-aged man with a sword strapped to his back strode toward the shuttles and tossed a silk pouch directly to the man in charge.
The tall man caught it, hefted it, and his eyes instantly bulged. The pouch hung heavy with twenty mid-grade spirit stones. One mid-grade stone was worth ten low-grade ones—this single bag was enough to buy the entire shuttle.
"Honored guest, please! Right this way!" The man's face instantly transformed into a fawning mask. He bowed low, personally lifting the curtain for them.
The swordsman turned, his voice steady. "Third Young Master, let us board."
Surrounded by guards, a youth stepped forward. He was tall and lean, with refined features and a sharp, unyielding spirit hidden beneath a facade of restraint.
As he stepped onto the shuttle, gazes flooded in from all directions—envy, curiosity, and mockery.
"That's someone from the Ye Family of Tong Province..." someone whispered.
Others were more biting. "I heard that Third Young Master... is Spiritless. He can't absorb a single drop of Qi."
A companion quickly tugged at the speaker's sleeve. "Shut it! Watch your mouth in a place like this."
The Spirit-Core Shuttle jolted. The runes beneath the chassis ignited, locking onto the mountain's ascent tracks. In the next breath, the scenery outside blurred—forests, stone steps, and crowds were pulled into streaks of light as the wind howled in a straight line.
Ye Wenzi rested his hand on the window frame, calmly watching the clouds fly past.
"Uncle Liu," he spoke softly. "Do you truly think the Grand Ancestral Sacrifice can allow me to cultivate?"
Ye Liu's throat tightened. He forced a thin, reassuring smile. "It certainly can. Many have had their spirits awakened here before. The Patriarch didn't send you here to be a laughingstock."
As he spoke, his eyes swept over Ye Wenzi's back. Although the boy lacked spiritual energy, his frame was rock-steady, sitting as straight and sharp as an unsharpened blade.
Ye Liu felt a pang of pity. Ye Wenzi was the Third Young Master of the great Ye Family. When he was born, auspicious omens had filled the sky, leading everyone to believe a "Kirin Child" had been born. Yet, he was found to be unable to absorb spiritual energy. However, strangely, he could still practice the family's martial arts to temper his body. Even without Qi, he had walked the path of Body Refining.
Compared to those without talent, Ye Wenzi's path of Body Refining was far more formidable. But in this world, Spirit Cultivators ruled supreme. Given the choice, anyone would choose the path of Qi.
The Grand Ancestral Sacrifice was one of the most significant events in the Xuan Domain. It was said that onlookers could gain immense benefits—those stuck in bottlenecks might reach enlightenment and break through, and those born without talent might be gifted with spirit roots.
Within moments, the shuttle settled onto the summit platform. What would have taken two hours on foot had been completed before the scent of runic ink in the cabin had even faded.
"Guests, we have arrived. Please watch your step!" The shuttle operator bowed even lower as he pulled open the door.
The summit of Ancestral Peak was grander than Ye Wenzi had ever imagined.
The square was carved flat, bordered by ancient white jade railings. The ground was paved with grey spirit stones, worn smooth by the passage of time. At the center stood an eight-tiered altar, topped with a golden light barrier. Beneath it, a colossal statue of a long-haired man holding a sword faced away from the crowd—a mere silhouette that made people hold their breath in awe.
The square was already packed with disciples from various sects, their robes different but all wearing the Alliance badge.
"Honored guests of the Ye Family, this way please," a reception disciple greeted them politely.
"Oh—isn't this the 'Trash' Third Young Master of the Ye Family?"
Just as Ye Wenzi and his group were being led to their seats, a nasally, mocking voice rang out across the square.
A fair-skinned youth sat nearby, playing with a black-gold token, his eyes fixed on Ye Wenzi. A sign nearby read: Yu Province, Yu Family. He was Yu Qing.
"Trying your luck here to awaken your spirit? Your old man spent so much effort and failed; you think a sacrifice will change anything?"
Before the mockery could fade—
"Since when," a cold, authoritative female voice echoed from the other side of the crowd, "has it been your turn, Yu Qing, to point fingers?"
The voice wasn't loud, but it carried an invisible weight. The noisy square suddenly fell silent.
The crowd parted again to reveal a slender, upright figure. She wore a green and white Daoist robe embroidered with silver clouds. A warm jade talisman hung at her waist. She was elegant, her aura restrained but sharp.
"Lin Qinxue... the Fourth Miss of the Lin Family from Yu Province," someone whispered in awe.
Lin Qinxue stopped beside Ye Wenzi. She glanced at him, her eyes softening for a fleeting second before turning cold as winter water toward Yu Qing.
"Yu Qing," she said calmly, "have you said enough?"
Yu Qing's face paled, then he forced a smile. "Miss Lin, I was just speaking the truth. The Grand Sacrifice isn't for everyone to just 'try their luck'."
"Whether someone is worthy," Lin Qinxue said flatly, "is for the Grandmaster to decide."
She paused, her tone turning razor-sharp.
"Not you."
A collective gasp went up from the crowd. Yu Qing's smile froze, his face turning various shades of red and white, but he didn't dare retaliate. Lin Qinxue was one of the most brilliant geniuses of the century. Even his own arrogant older brother, Yu Feng, admired her—he couldn't afford to offend her.
As Yu Qing fell silent, the storm subsided.
Lin Qinxue turned back to Ye Wenzi, her coldness vanishing instantly.
"Brother Ye," she blinked, her tone turning light and cheerful. "You won't blame me for interfering, will you?"
Ye Wenzi was stunned for a moment, then shook his head with a smile. "How could I? I should thank you for bailing me out."
Hearing this, her smile bloomed like spring flowers. Just as she was about to say more, a respectful voice spoke from behind her.
"Miss, the ceremony is about to begin. It is time to return to your seat."
Lin Qinxue frowned, clearly unwilling to leave.
"Qinxue," Ye Wenzi said softly. "I'll see you in a bit."
The young girl was momentarily stunned, a soft pink hue slowly creeping onto her cheeks. She gave a shy, dainty nod.
"Brother Ye... I'll see you in a bit then," she murmured, her voice filled with a bashful warmth.
"I know you can do it. I truly believe in you!"
She gave a small, hurried wave of her fist before turning away. Her brisk footsteps carried her quickly into the crowd, her head lowered as she tried to hide a shy, fluttering smile.