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Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator - Chapter 81
🕑 Added 2024-12-09 07:01:34 +0000 UTCChapter 81: Recruitment Challenges
"The beast knows its master not through force, but through understanding. So too must we judge those who seek to join our ranks."
—Sage Master Yu Ling, Speaker to the Wild
Xiulan spent the night before recruitment meticulously cleaning her gear.
The black and turquoise robe shimmered under lantern light as she checked each stitch for imperfections. The refined garment was as pristine as when she had bought it.
Severing Light’s blade gleamed after a thorough polish, its edge catching the dim light.
Dawn brought an unexpected cacophony of sounds. Drums thundered through the streets. Bells chimed from temple towers. The scent of incense and cooking food wafted through their inn’s window.
Xiulan stepped onto their room’s balcony. Colorful banners stretched between buildings. Street vendors had transformed overnight, their stalls now festooned with ribbons and talismans. Children ran past wearing masks painted with cultivation symbols.
“What in the world?” Xiulan watched a parade of dancers weave through the crowd below.
“Ready?” Ren Chun adjusted his formal robes behind her.
Their group merged into the festival crowd. Mei Chen bounced excitedly between market stalls while Ren Chun maintained a careful distance from the pressing throng. Street performers breathed multicolored flames into intricate patterns overhead.
“I didn’t expect this. Does it always turn into a festival?” Xiulan dodged a group of children chasing each other with paper talismans.
“Every year.” Feng Yu smiled at a young girl who gaped at her sword. “They see it as a celebration of magic entering the world.”
So much for staying separate. Xiulan followed along with a frown.
“Look there.” Feng Yu pointed toward massive banners hanging from the towering pagoda towers. Each school’s symbol dominated its district—Skyward’s wind-wrapped peaks, Earth’s Embrace’s mountain range, Flameheart’s burning flower, and Aqua Seraph’s cresting wave.
The schools hadn’t separated themselves at all. They’d claimed the heart of the city itself.
Xiulan stared at Skyward Institute’s gates. A robed cultivator stood atop the ornate stone archway, observing the gathering crowd below. Her steps faltered as she took in the transformed entrance—where a simple square had stretched just a week ago, a two tiered arena now dominated the space.
“That wasn’t here before,” Xiulan muttered. The perfectly circular depression carved into the earth stretched sixty paces across on the bottom level, its surface lined with smooth stone with simple grooves cut at regular intervals to give texture.
Xiulan’s group pushed forward through the festival crowd. An invisible force pressed against her skin as they approached the arena’s edge. The pressure explained the crowd’s reluctance to venture closer.
Other cultivators filtered through the crowd toward the arena. A trio of young women in matching green robes strode past. Two brothers sporting identical cultivation medals entered from the opposite side. A lone cultivator in weather-worn traveling clothes stepped into the circle.
Xiulan exchanged glances with her companions. The familiar presence of Feng Yu’s steady confidence, Ren Chun’s focused determination, and Mei Chen’s supernatural awareness strengthened her resolve.
The mounting pressure intensified. While not overwhelming, it demanded acknowledgment—like walking against a strong wind.
The elder atop the gate remained motionless, his blue and silver robes rippling in the morning breeze. A blue-tinted sword hung at his waist, catching the sunlight. The crowd swelled as more aspiring cultivators arrived from every direction.
“The qi pressure serves as our first test,” Ren Chun said. “Those too weak to withstand it won’t qualify.”
Xiulan watched several body refining cultivators strain against the invisible force. Their faces contorted with effort before they crumpled to the ground. Some crawled away, while others needed help from friends to retreat.
“Poor preparation.” Feng Yu shook her head. “They should have known better.”
“The qi feels wrong.” Mei Chen shifted uneasily beside Xiulan. “It pushes and pulls, trying to force us into rigid patterns.”
“That’s typical of schools and sects.” Feng Yu placed a reassuring hand on Mei Chen’s shoulder. “They prefer order and conformity. But don’t worry—Skyward Institute maintains one of the most righteous reputations. They’ll treat you fairly.”
Xiulan shifted her weight uneasily. Words about righteousness echoed. What defined righteousness in this world of cultivation? She had killed her own family members, justified their deaths through their actions. Would a righteous sect accept someone like her?
The morning sun climbed higher as they waited. A few more cultivators trickled into the arena, each carrying themselves with varying degrees of confidence. Some clutched spirit weapons, while others displayed talismans and protective gear.
Is this going to turn into a tournament arc? Anything but that. Feng Yu explained the tests changed yearly according to the elders’ whims. Combat trials remained a common method for testing potential disciples.
A brilliant flash lit the air. White lines of pure qi stretched skyward, weaving into a translucent dome over the arena.
The elder launched himself from the gate, his blue robes billowing as he landed before them. Raw power rolled off him in waves, pressing against Xiulan’s senses.
Something felt off about his display. Master Qingfeng had never needed such obvious demonstrations of power. His presence alone commanded respect without ever revealing the depths of his strength.
This elder’s aggressive qi felt almost... compensatory.
A rhythmic drumbeat echoed across the arena as two dozen cultivators in Skyward’s blue and silver uniforms marched down toward them from behind the gate.
They moved with precision, boots striking the stone in perfect unison. Each outer disciple carried a different spirit weapon—swords, spears, and more exotic arms Xiulan didn’t recognize.
The elder stepped forward. “This year’s recruitment will be simple. Show us your skill by trading pointers with our outer disciples. Those who show sufficient potential shall join our ranks.”
So it’s not a formal test at all. Xiulan studied the lined-up disciples. They’ll judge us by feel during actual combat. The practical approach suited her—structured examinations often missed true talent.
Her confidence grew as she assessed the outer disciples. Their qi levels seemed manageable, and they had faced worse odds during Blackmere’s siege. Feng Yu could certainly handle herself, while Ren Chun’s foundation was solid. Even Mei Chen’s unique abilities would serve her well.
Movement caught Xiulan’s eye. Among the uniform ranks stood a distinctive figure—a cultivator with a softly glowing blue stone embedded in his forehead. His intense stare fixed on Mei Chen, studying her with unsettling focus.
A lingdao cultivator. This was why they had come in here in the first place, so that was a good sign.
“Form ranks!” The elder’s command cracked through the morning air.
The applicants shuffled into rough lines. A young woman in Skyward robes stepped into the arena’s center, her silver-trimmed sleeves billowing. She pointed toward a burly cultivator near the front.
“You. Show me your skill.”
A tall man stepped into the arena, his plain steel sword held at the ready. He bowed deeply to the outer disciple, who returned the gesture with practiced grace.
The outer disciple’s blade flashed. A single silver arc of qi sliced through the air. The applicant flew backward, his sword clattering across cobblestones as he tumbled outside the arena’s boundary.
Another blue-robed disciple replaced his companion, adjusting steel-plated gauntlets. The pattern repeated. Applicants entered one by one, each facing devastating defeats. Some fell to precisely aimed martial strikes, while others crumpled under barrages of elemental techniques.
A few skilled cultivators earned their victories. They stood aside, proudly wearing newly granted silver tokens that marked their acceptance.
Ren Chun strode forward, the first of their group to enter the circle. The outer disciple launched forward with a spear thrust crackling with flame qi.
“Earth Sunders the Lake!” Ren Chun’s shout echoed across the arena.
A massive wave of qi-infused water erupted from the air, crashing against the barrier’s walls. Before the outer disciple could react, the cobblestones beneath him shifted. Stone wrapped around his limbs, encasing him in a floating coffin of earth.
Several disciples rushed to extract their trapped companion. The elder raised a glowing talisman, and the arena’s surface smoothed itself, erasing all evidence of the damage.
Ren Chun joined the small group of accepted applicants. He turned back toward Xiulan and the others, offering a confident wink as he waved.
Xiulan studied next matches intently. Another cultivator sailed through the air, landing hard outside the arena’s boundary. His opponent hadn’t even drawn a weapon. A young woman in emerald robes fared better, deflecting three attacks before disarming her challenger. She joined the small cluster of victors, accepting a silver token with a deep bow.
How many spots remain? Xiulan counted the successful applicants. Eight tokens glinted in the morning sun. The schools usually accepted between ten and twenty disciples per recruitment cycle, from what she had learned. But would they face additional trials after this initial combat test?
“Next.” The outer disciple pointed at Mei Chen.
The lingdao cultivator stepped forward, interrupting his fellow disciple. They conversed in hushed tones before approaching the elder. The blue stone in the lingdao’s forehead pulsed as he spoke.
The elder nodded. The original opponent stepped back as the lingdao cultivator took position across from Mei Chen.
Xiulan gripped Severing Light until her knuckles whitened. The weapon’s familiar weight offered little comfort as she watched Mei Chen enter the arena.
“She’ll be fine.” Feng Yu squeezed Xiulan’s shoulder. “They wouldn’t harm a potential student.”
I hope you’re right. Xiulan forced herself to breathe steadily as Mei Chen faced her opponent.
Unlike the previous matches filled with flashing blades and thunderous impacts, an eerie stillness descended over the arena. Mei Chen stood motionless, facing the lingdao cultivator across the weathered stone circle. Wisps of yin-tinged qi rolled off her small frame in waves, colliding against her opponent’s spiritual energy.
The air grew thick with competing forces. Neither cultivator moved a muscle, yet Xiulan sensed the titanic struggle unfolding between them. Cracks spider-webbed through the stone beneath their feet, spreading outward from the point where their qi clashed. The translucent barrier above flickered and warped under the spiritual pressure.
Maybe we should have kept her seal on. Xiulan’s fingers tightened around Severing Light. They’d gambled on showing Mei Chen’s true nature, hoping it would impress the recruiters.
A thin layer of frost crept across the fractured ground, spreading from Mei Chen toward the lingdao disciple. The temperature plummeted. Xiulan’s breath misted in the suddenly frigid air. The moment the frost touched the edge of the disciple’s blue silk boot, all pressure vanished.
The lingdao cultivator bowed deeply to Mei Chen. She returned the gesture before walking calmly to join Ren Chun among the victors. A small wave and bright smile flashed toward Xiulan, who raised her hand in response.
A senior outer disciple stepped forward to face Feng Yu. Their blue and silver robes rustled as they bowed in perfect synchronization. Liuhuo’s serpentine form coiled around Feng Yu’s shoulders, tongue flicking to taste the charged air.
Feng Yu drew her blade in one fluid motion. A sphere of fire erupted before her, blazing like a newborn star. The intense light painted stark shadows across the arena as the barrier above flared in response to the raw power.
Gasps and cheers erupted from the crowd of mortals beyond the arena’s edge. Children pointed excitedly at the miniature sun while adults shielded their eyes from its brilliance.
The outer disciple raised both arms, qi flowing visibly as they struggled to contain the expanding fireball. Sweat beaded on their forehead from the intense heat.
Feng Yu slashed her blade through the sphere. Flames cascaded down the steel, transforming the weapon into a massive burning whip that stretched across the arena. The blazing tendril lashed out with devastating force.
The disciple’s weapon rose to block, but the impact carried more than flame. Telekinetic force slammed into them, launching their body through the air. They barely caught themselves before crashing into the barrier wall.
Feng Yu’s flame whip cracked through the air again, leaving a blazing afterimage. The sound echoed like thunder across the arena.
“I yield!” The outer disciple dropped to one knee, lowering their weapon in surrender.
Xiulan suppressed a proud grin as Feng Yu strode toward the winners’ circle. Show-off. Still, the display deserved every cheer from the crowd.
One by one, the remaining applicants faced their trials. Some stumbled away in defeat while others earned their tokens through clever techniques or raw power. Each victory thinned the crowd until Xiulan stood alone in the testing area.
The lingering heat from Feng Yu’s demonstration faded as the air grew heavy. Mei Chen, Ren Chun, and Feng Yu watched from their position among the victors. Their presence should have comforted her, but isolation gnawed at her confidence.
The elder stepped into the arena. His blue and silver robes rippled as he drew his sky blue sword.
“I will judge your worth personally.”
