I run a casino in the immortal realm.

The Qingyun Sect recruits new members every three years.

At the foot of Yingke Peak, two miles east of Qingyun City, a dense crowd of several thousand people had gathered.

Young cultivators under the age of eighteen came from all over the country, the furthest having traveled for half a year.

Zheng Yifei stood in the middle of the crowd, with Zhao Ling'er closely following on his right.

At the foot of the mountain stands a sacred stone tablet, three zhang tall, with four lines of text inscribed on it:

I tried it, and climbed the ladder.

The second test was to examine the bones.

The third test is to measure the energy.

Those who disagree shall leave; those who deceive shall die.

The last character, "death," was written in vermilion ink, so red it was almost blinding.

The "Ten Thousand Steps to the Clouds" extends from the foot of the mountain to the clouds. Each step is engraved with array patterns, and the higher you go, the heavier the spiritual pressure released by the array patterns becomes.

Cultivators below the seventh level of Qi Refining will be overwhelmed by spiritual pressure after walking three thousand steps; only those above the seventh level have a chance to reach the top.

This is the simplest and most direct screening method—if your cultivation level isn't high enough, don't waste your time coming up here.

The bugle sounded.

The crowd surged toward the steps.

As Zheng Yifei stepped onto the first step, a spiritual pressure rose from the soles of his feet and tentatively pressed down on his shoulders.

So light it's almost negligible.

He possesses five spiritual roots, and although his cultivation is slow and requires a large amount of resources, the concentration of spiritual liquid in his Qi Sea is four to five times that of cultivators of the same level. This amount of spiritual pressure is not even enough to be considered a warm-up.

Zhao Ling'er is different.

Fifth level of Qi Refining.

When she took the five hundredth step, her face turned pale.

The spiritual pressure felt like an invisible hand pressing down on my head, and with each step I took, my knees trembled slightly.

She gritted her teeth, fine beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and her steps grew slower and slower.

People around them started to fall behind.

A young man at the fourth level of Qi Refining collapsed at the eight hundredth step. After struggling for two breaths, he was thrown back by the array patterns, rolled down the steps, and howled all the way.

Three more people collapsed around a thousand paces away, crying as they crawled back down the mountain.

When Zhao Ling'er reached the 1200th step, her legs went weak.

She knelt on one knee on the steps, her hands supporting her weight, breathing rapidly.

"Stand up."

Zheng Yifei's voice came from above. He had already taken 1,300 steps and turned to look at her.

Zhao Ling'er raised her head, her lips were purple, but her eyes remained focused.

Zheng Yifei stepped back and extended his hand.

Zhao Ling'er hesitated for a moment, then took his hand.

The spiritual energy flowed through his palm, not much, just enough to offset the extra 30% of spiritual pressure.

"Walk your own path. I'll only shield you from some of the obstacles."

Zhao Ling'er took a deep breath and struggled to her feet.

The two people walked uphill, one in front of the other.

Zheng Yifei's spiritual energy output was precise down to the last detail, maintaining a delicate balance so that Zhao Ling'er wouldn't get too relaxed and attract attention, nor would she really be unable to hold on.

Five thousand steps.

A large number of cultivators at the sixth level of Qi Refining began to leave the area, and a group of people knelt haphazardly on the steps.

Seven thousand steps.

Even cultivators at the early stage of the seventh level of Qi Refining couldn't hold on any longer. A chubby-faced boy had just completed the 7,000th level when his eyes rolled back and he fell backward onto the sky.

Nine thousand steps.

Zhao Ling'er's fingers trembled, her nails digging into Zheng Yifei's palm, leaving crescent-shaped marks. Her spiritual power was almost exhausted, and she was only hanging on by a thread.

Zheng Yifei increased his spiritual energy output.

For the last thousand steps, he practically dragged Zhao Ling'er up with him.

Step 10,000.

The steps came to an end, and a bright and open view opened up before us.

A huge plaza hangs above a sea of ​​clouds, surrounded by sheer, precipitous peaks, with cyan mist swirling among them.

In the center of the square stands a stone archway thirty feet high, inscribed with "Qingyun Sect".

Zhao Ling'er collapsed to the ground, panting heavily.

Zheng Yifei released her hand and looked around.

There were about 500 people who reached the summit, less than 20% of the total number of people at the foot of the mountain.

"First test complete."

A voice, aged and dignified, came from behind the archway: "Those who came up alive, move forward. Those who didn't, go home and farm."

The second checkpoint is located in a hall behind the archway.

Bone age assessment.

A grayish-white stone tablet, about ten feet tall, stood in the center of the hall, its surface as smooth as a mirror. The person in charge of the inspection was an old man with white hair and beard, in the late stage of Foundation Establishment, with indifferent eyes, as if watching livestock enter the pen.

The process is simple. Simply place your palm on the stone tablet, and the tablet will display your bone age number.

Those under 18 years old will be disqualified.

Too old, die.

There is no third possible outcome.

The seventh person in front of Zheng Yifei was a bearded man with a broad back and a powerful presence; he was at the ninth level of Qi Refining.

He placed his hand on the stone tablet.

A line of numbers lit up on the monument: Nineteen years old.

The bearded man's expression changed instantly.

"Senior, I—"

He didn't finish his sentence.

The old man raised a finger, and a beam of light pierced through the bearded man's chest. Blood mist exploded, and the corpse fell straight down, its eyes still open in death.

The square was quiet for three breaths.

Two apprentice servants walked over expressionlessly, dragged away the corpse, and wiped away the bloodstains on the ground with a mop.

The process continues.

When it was Zhao Ling'er's turn, she placed her palm on the monument, and the inscription lit up: Fifteen.

Too.

Zheng Yifei stepped forward and pressed his palm against the cold stone tablet.

The surface of the monument shimmered with light: Seventeen.

The old man's gaze lingered on him for a moment before shifting away.

Too.

The third stage.

Test your spiritual power.

In fact, once you reach this stage, you've already been accepted into the sect; the spirit test is just for allocation.

Deeper into the hall, there are several passageways, each with a plaque hanging above it:

Danfeng.

Peak.

Peak formation.

Fu Feng.

Sword Peak.

Beast Taming Peak.

There are also the General Affairs Hall and the Enforcement Hall.

The steward in charge of diverting the flow was a female cultivator in her thirties, at the mid-Foundation Establishment stage, with an expression colder than a stone tablet.

"Spiritual root test: press your hand on the jade bead. Those with single or double spiritual roots will be given priority in choosing a temple; the rest will be assigned based on the specific circumstances."

A fist-sized, milky-white jade bead floated above the stone platform.

Zhao Ling'er goes first.

When the palm touches the jade bead, two beams of light appear—wood and fire.

"Dual spiritual roots, wood and fire."

The steward glanced at her cultivation level and frowned: "Fifth level of Qi Refining? That's a bit low. Do you have any other special skills?"

Zhao Ling'er took out the nameplate of a first-level alchemist from her storage bag, and then took out three high-grade spirit gathering pills and placed them on the stone platform.

"A first-tier alchemist has a 60% success rate in producing high-grade Spirit Gathering Pills."

The steward picked up a pill, sniffed it, turned it over to check its quality, and finally showed a slight change in expression.

"Forge a batch on the spot."

Zhao Ling'er paid a special assessment fee of five hundred spirit stones and squatted in front of the public alchemy furnace in the corner of the hall to begin refining pills.

After an incense stick had burned, the lid of the furnace was lifted, and three top-grade Spirit Gathering Pills lay quietly at the bottom of the furnace, their quality even slightly better than the sample she had taken out.

The deacon remained silent for two breaths.

"Danfeng, outer disciple, recorded."

Zhao Ling'er turned to look at Zheng Yifei, her eyes reddening, and nodded vigorously.

It was Zheng Yifei's turn.

Press your palm onto the jade bead.

Five beams of light shone simultaneously, representing the five elements of gold, wood, water, fire, and earth, their intertwined colors causing everyone present to squint.

The square suddenly fell silent.

The deacon glanced down at the record board, then looked up at Zheng Yifei. His expression remained unchanged, but the corners of his mouth visibly drooped downwards.

"Five spiritual roots".

As soon as those two words were uttered, a murmur of noise arose from the surroundings.

"Anyone with only five spiritual roots dares to take the entrance exam for the Qingyun Sect?"

"How did this person get up here? Is he at the eighth level of Qi Refining?"

"What's the use of reaching the eighth level of Qi Refining with five spiritual roots? The spiritual power conversion rate is less than half that of three spiritual roots, unless you have a massive amount of resources."

"Just by looking at his clothes, you can tell he's not from a big family. Where did he get all that resources? He'll never be able to reach the Foundation Establishment stage in this lifetime."

The deacon ignored the murmurs at the meeting and proceeded with official business: "Danfeng will not accept five types of spiritual roots."

"The peak of the weapon is not to be accepted."

"The battle formation will not be contained."

"Fu Feng will not accept it."

"Sword Peak will not accept it."

"Beast Taming Peak will not accept you."

Six popular branches, six of which "rejected" admissions – a clean and efficient decision.

The deacon picked up his pen and added a line at the very end of the register.

"General Affairs Hall, Outer Disciples, Records."

She handed over a gray identity token, speaking calmly: "Monthly salary is ten low-grade spirit stones. Report directly to the General Affairs Hall."

Ten spirit stones.

Zheng Yifei accepted the token, his expression unchanged.

A barely suppressed sneer came from behind.

"A piece of trash with five spiritual roots, go work as a beast of burden in the General Affairs Office."

The speaker was a sixteen or seventeen-year-old boy with a single fire spiritual root. He had just been admitted to Sword Peak and held his chin high.

Several of his fellow newcomers next to him laughed.

Zheng Yifei tucked the token into his pocket and turned to walk towards the narrow path with the sign for the General Affairs Hall.

Zhao Ling'er caught up and grabbed his sleeve: "Brother Zheng..."

"Report to Danfeng. If you need anything, come to the General Affairs Hall to find me."

Zheng Yifei patted the back of her hand, his voice as calm as ever.

Zhao Ling'er let go of his hand, stood at the crossroads, and watched him walk into the gray, narrow path, his back disappearing into the dark passageway.