The Apprenticeship

The group formally entered the Sub-Institute. It wasn't particularly lavish, featuring neat rows of buildings. A massive hall stood at its center, where ordinary disciples attended lectures and took exams, while the surrounding buildings housed the Masters' residences. Near the edge, a plaza served for welcoming guests or sparring matches. The registration office was one of the few taller structures; when major events occurred, the dean and the Masters would gather here to discuss strategy.

Dense mountain ranges and forests encircled the area, all belonging to the Sub-Institute's territory, though daily activities were concentrated in the central region, known as "Macro."

After inspecting their tokens, an attendant led them past the great mountains. This was the stage belonging to these prodigies—the true Sub-Institute, called "Micro."

After all, everyone's talent and comprehension differed. One had to know the mountain's height to understand the climb's difficulty. But if the mountain seemed limitless and the suffering boundless, they would lose all confidence to ascend.

Of course, not all the exceptional talents and prodigies here possessed supreme-grade spiritual roots. Most had average or even inferior talent but exceptional comprehension—much like Su from the fallen Imperial City. In an equal environment, they could judge their own strength more accurately, face more hardships to temper their minds, and thus become more resilient, persevering on their own path.

As the saying goes, when Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a person, it first tests their resolve, exhausts their muscles and bones, starves their body, empties their being, and confounds their actions.

Suffering isn't a necessity of life but an unavoidable disaster, like illness. It can kill you, but what doesn't kill you will ultimately make you stronger.

A Master had been waiting for some time. The nine youths' every move throughout the journey had been observed. "This batch has decent temperament, it's just..." the woman at the forefront remarked, watching a replay of their travels.

"Lan Jinxi, you'll follow me!" She stepped forward, looking at Lan Jinxi as she spoke.

"Ah... Um... Yes!" Lan Jinxi hesitated for a moment, then nodded with a smile. "Should I call you Master, or...?"

"Just call me 'Master'," the woman said, taking Lan Jinxi's hand. "Your Master's name is Huanxian. You may call me Master Xian."

Afterwards, a tall and burly man selected Dun and Shaheluo. He was Qiongqian, who preferred to be called "Master Shuo."

Mo Wenxi left with another Master who also practiced divination arts. He remained silent the whole time, only smiling at Yan before departing. According to other students, he was "Master Mu," a very mysterious figure!

Chi's family had already secured a Master for him before his arrival, and the two were already acquainted. He was a somewhat casual Master, with a stubbled face and unkempt long hair, always giving off an unreliable vibe. Thus, he was often called "Master Lan," homophonous with "Lazy Master."

Just then, a golden flash appeared in the distance. The examiner from the final trial stage arrived. "Hey! Didn't think I'd have to take one of you! My junior sisters made it easy—just closed their doors and refused. The old dean, what a guy... caught me off guard and forced a spot on me! Using all his schemes on me!" He covered his face and shook his head, then pointed at Qian Dan. "You. Your techniques are a decent match for mine." He glanced at Yan and shook his head again. "That kid's water runs too deep; I can't handle him. You can call me Senior Brother Jiguang. The title 'Master' is beyond me."

Afterwards, Fan Cang chose not to take a master, preferring to cultivate alone. While he could seek guidance from the various Masters when confused, cultivation ultimately relied on oneself. Unless one had a clear direction and a good method, this approach wasn't recommended.

Yun Feng chose to cultivate with the mountain spirits here, hiding amongst the peaks.

Finally, only Yan remained, standing alone, unsure where to go.

"Young man, you're Yan, right?" A somewhat unkempt, plump old man hobbled over from a distance.

"Senior, you are...?" Yan was startled. Though he thought this old man looked even less reliable and felt somewhat disappointed, at least someone was willing to take him as a disciple. He didn't forget his manners.

"Cisheng is your elder brother, right?" The old man sized up Yan and asked.

"Cisheng?"

"Ah, you might not know his formal name. Just come with this old man!" The old fellow grabbed Yan and dragged him toward a cave residence.

"Cisheng, your brother's here!" Upon reaching the entrance of a cave residence, the old man shouted, then placed Yan where he stood and left alone.

"Kid, you're finally here!" The door was opened by Mountain Lord. Behind him stood that immortal elder brother.

"Big brother, your name is Cisheng?" Yan asked, looking at the immortal elder brother.

"Oh, it was such a rush last time, I forgot to tell you! Fortunately, the old dean is reliable and brought you here." The immortal elder brother smacked his head, finally remembering what he had overlooked.

"So Brother Ci, do I cultivate here or follow you?"

"For now, yes. Once your Immortal Seed recovers, you should follow him. I saw his sparring with Junior Sister Han; he's far more formidable than your big brother!"

"Alright kid, to celebrate you joining the Sub-Institute, let's have a proper drink!" Mountain Lord raised a wine cup, overjoyed.

It was during this feast that Mountain Lord and Shaheluo told Yan they had secretly changed his path. Originally, both were ready to rescue him should he fail. Who could have imagined Yan would walk out on his own? Though he used some tricks in the first two stages, the final one—jointly designed by Shaheluo and Cisheng and touted as the hardest—he didn't resort to cunning, which was a comfort to them.

Afterwards, Shaheluo asked the old dean to check the condition of the entity within Yan's token, inquiring if help was needed. After the examination, the old dean beamed, waved his hand to indicate it was unnecessary, and asked if Yan could come live with him later.

"Old Dean, you've seen my younger brother's condition. There's no need to worry so much on account of his identity."

"Eh~, you know that child's talent as well as I do. He just relies too heavily on external aids. If he finds his own awareness, his aptitude isn't inferior to any of yours."

"Since you say that, I gather you intend to take him as your disciple?"

"This child's experiences are unique. No one here can be his true master in the fullest sense. We'll need to observe him further. Let him stay with this old man for now. It will also give you and Miss Cui some private space."

Shaheluo scratched his head and gave an awkward chuckle.

"There are other children who came with that group. Among them are quite a few with brilliant natural talent. Why, then..."

"Shaheluo, do you remember the unchanging tradition of millennia? Every disciple entering the Sub-Institute must undergo the Gate of Heart-Questioning—writing their aspiration on a bamboo slip. Some, firm in will, put brush to paper immediately. Others dawdle, but eventually think of something. In that moment of hesitation, one can discern a person's original intent for embarking on the immortal path, along with some other things."

"But their answers could still be considered passable, right?"

"Vague. And the other few with some talent wrote too quickly. Not the speed of thoughtlessness, but rather like the result of repeated, mechanical training."

"I understand. It's just a pity for so many promising seedlings..."

"Under heaven, there are countless good seeds. You cannot gather every single one."