The Trial Begins, the Summoner Cult Reappears

From the carriage, one could already see Rare Beast Peak in the distance.

Rare Beast Peak was the final summit of the Qingyuan Mountain Range and the closest to the wilderness.

Ahead, a vast crowd gathered, with inner and outer sect disciples clearly separated.

Without exception, they were all new disciples who had yet to participate in the sect’s trial.

The moment the sect master’s carriage came to a stop, it instantly became the center of attention.

"Is that the sect master’s true disciple, Ying Bing?"

"Tsk... this junior sister’s looks are downright unfair."

"Keep it down. I heard from Qian Bufan’s true disciple that she’s already opened eight meridians in the Qi-Blood Realm. She was even rewarded with a set of Black Cloud Silk inner armor for it."

"How long has she been here? Eight meridians already? What a monster!"

"Don’t tell me someone could win the sect trial in their first year? That would be too terrifyingly talented."

"Who’s that next to her?"

"True Disciple Li Mo. They entered the sect together."

"Oh, I know him! True Disciple Li is a really good guy!"

Hearing the chatter, Li Mo’s lips twitched.

Thanks, but I prefer doing good deeds anonymously. No need to hand out "nice guy" cards.

"Moonview Cliff... seems to be deep in the trial grounds."

Scanning the map, Li Mo located the place where Ying Bing had agreed to meet him.

The deeper one ventured into the trial grounds, the stronger the beasts became.

Moonview Cliff was remote, requiring passage through territories of late-stage and even peak ninth-rank beasts.

Without some real skill, reaching it would be impossible.

"One hour..."

Li Mo glanced at Ying Bing, who had taken the lead at the front of the crowd, and silently bolstered his own resolve.

Don’t underestimate this transmigrator’s cheat abilities!

Suddenly.

Li Mo noticed a familiar gaze locked onto him.

Wang Hu.

The boy still wore his usual arrogant expression, but a sickly pallor lingered between his brows, casting a shadow over his entire demeanor.

Meeting Li Mo’s eyes, he slowly drew a finger across his throat in a slashing motion.

"What’s his problem now?"

Li Mo rolled his eyes but instinctively sensed something off about Wang Hu’s condition.

With a thought, he activated his Heaven’s Eye and scanned him.

[Name: Wang Hu]

[Age: 16]

[Physique: Tiger Arms, Panther Waist]

[Realm: Qi-Blood Realm, Eight Meridians]

[Fate: Black]

[Evaluation: Moderately talented. With diligent training, he might achieve something in the future. However, his narrow-mindedness, vindictiveness, and arrogance make him prone to extreme paths.]

[Recent Misfortune: Beast Seed deeply implanted. Strayed too far down a dark path. His own essence-blood can no longer sustain him, forcing him to consume beast blood. Gradually losing sanity.]

"Beast Seed?"

Li Mo’s brow arched slightly.

What puzzled him wasn’t Wang Hu’s fate, but the fact that he had come into contact with the Demon Summoning Cult.

Before the sect trial, outer disciples weren’t allowed to leave the mountain unless they withdrew from the sect.

If Wang Hu had stayed within Qingyuan Sect the whole time, where had this Beast Seed come from?

"This trial might not be as straightforward as it seems."

Li Mo pondered for a moment.

Well, when the Child of Destiny is involved, things going smoothly would be the real anomaly.

Following the usual tropes, the ice block (Ying Bing) would probably turn the tide at a critical moment, maybe even pull off a desperate counterattack?

But since he knew now...

"Master!"

Li Mo rushed straight to where the elders were seated.

"Hmm?"

Shang Wu, who had been dozing off, rubbed her sleepy eyes at her disciple’s voice.

"Time to eat?"

"I’ll treat you after the trial. There’s something important I need to report."

Li Mo explained his suspicions, though he covered up the Heaven’s Eye with a plausible excuse.

The moment the words "Demon Summoning Cult" left his mouth—

Xue Jing and Qian Bufan immediately straightened, their expressions turning grave. Even Shang Wu’s drowsiness vanished.

"Are you certain it’s the Demon Summoning Cult? This is no joking matter."

Qian Bufan’s voice was low, his brows furrowed with concern.

"My father served as a county captain and once captured a cultist. The aura feels similar, though I can’t be entirely sure. But given the severity, I thought it best to report it. Better a false alarm than negligence."

Li Mo’s reasoning was sound.

"Li Mo is always thorough."

Xue Jing pondered briefly before nodding.

"Nine out of ten, that Wang Hu kid has practiced the cult’s forbidden art—Hundred Beasts Blood Refinement."

"Daring to extend their claws into our Qingyuan Sect."

Yin Huaxuan, elder of Rare Beast Peak, shot to his feet, looking ready to drag Wang Hu in for interrogation.

"Yin Hua, always so hasty."

Xue Jing stopped him, then gave Li Mo an approving glance.

"We’ll handle it. Return to the trial and proceed as normal. Act as if nothing happened."

"Understood."

Li Mo complied without hesitation.

Old Xue probably had his own plans.

In Qingyuan Sect, if even the elders couldn’t resolve an issue, overthinking it wouldn’t help.

......

Half an hour later.

Qian Bufan stood before the assembled disciples, hands clasped behind his back as he announced the trial rules:

"Ordinary beasts do not count toward points."

"Ninth-rank early-stage, mid-stage, and late-stage beasts are worth 1, 3, and 15 points respectively."

"Of course, there are also peak ninth-rank beasts—worth 100 points. But unless you possess strength comparable to the Inner Breath Realm, don’t attempt them lightly."

"Upon slaying a beast, or in emergencies, fire a signal arrow. An inner sect deacon will come to assist."

With that, Qian Bufan returned to his seat.

The disciples collected their signal arrows and selected weapons before the thousand-strong crowd marched into the forest.

"Yin Hua, junior brother."

Xue Jing suddenly spoke.

"Hm."

Yin Huaxuan nodded.

He blew a bone whistle, and from Rare Beast Peak, hundreds of birds took flight—some diving into the woods, others circling overhead.

......

A short while later.

A signal arrow shrieked across the sky.

Soon, an inner sect deacon returned, dragging the corpse of a black leopard the size of a calf. Its eyes were wide as saucers, its ferocity frozen in death.

The fatal wound was a single, clean slash to the throat—so precise that not a drop of blood spilled, the wound instantly sealed by frost.

"Ying Bing, one point." Qian Bufan marveled.

"Many disciples can kill ninth-rank beasts, but to do it so flawlessly, without wasting a single ounce of strength—that’s rare."

Yin Huaxuan’s eyes gleamed.

"Even if I suppressed my cultivation to the Qi-Blood Realm, I couldn’t match that."

Xue Jing clicked his tongue in admiration.

"Little Ying never had combat experience before, did she?"

Shang Wu’s almond eyes sparkled.

First time killing a beast, and it was like slaughtering a chicken.

Many prodigies, despite their strength, faltered when facing beasts, their prowess reduced to a fraction under pressure.

But some thrived in battle, growing stronger the fiercer the fight—like herself.

Shang Wu called it the "Innate Brawler Constitution."

"Why hasn’t my dear disciple made a move yet?"

The master propped her chin on one hand, her drowsy eyes half-lidded as she teetered on the edge of sleep once more.

Whoosh—

Another signal arrow pierced the air.

"Li Mo, one ninth-rank early-stage beast slain!"

The strange beast dragged back by the inner sect steward left the elders deep in thought.

After staring at it for a long while, Xue Jing finally spoke hesitantly:

"Is this thing... a Wingfang Serpent?"

To be honest, if Old Xue hadn’t just used the scales of a Wingfang Serpent for alchemy, he wouldn’t have recognized what this mess even was.

The "serpent corpse" had its head blown apart, fangs shattered, and every bone in its body broken, causing the long serpentine body to crumple into a heap—like a soda can crushed underfoot.

Too brutal.

A complete opposite of Ying Bing.

Qian Bufan, resting his hands on his round belly, fell into contemplation:

"Disciple Shang Wu, wasn’t Li Mo practicing sword techniques?"

"He’s also mastered the Six Harmonies Fist," Shang Wu shrugged, as if to say this wasn’t her fault.

Yin Huaxuan picked up a fragment of a fang:

"The fangs are the toughest part of a Wingfang Serpent, yet they were shattered along with its body in a single punch."

"That kid’s current level isn’t inferior to Ying Bing."

"And he’s also trained in some kind of body-forging technique?"

Xue Jing felt his scalp tingle.

None of the elders disagreed—with their discerning eyes, they could deduce much from the battle’s aftermath.

Judging by the outcome of the fight against a ninth-tier early-stage beast, Li Mo’s performance was no less impressive than Ying Bing’s.

But the elders opened their mouths, unsure whether to praise him or not.

This fighting style was far too reminiscent of a certain someone...

The Qingyuan Sect already had Shang Wu to deal with—wasn’t one enough?!

If a second one appeared, wouldn’t that be disastrous?!

"Ah, Old Xue, you fool—why didn’t you take Li Mo as your disciple back then?"

"?? My true disciple quota was full! Elder Qian had openings—why didn’t he take him?"

"I wanted to, but Disciple Shang Wu got there first!"

"You fool!"

"Is it too late to steer him away from this... misguided path?"

The elders sighed in dismay.

Shang Wu abruptly stood up, one hand on her hip, the other clenched into a fist, knuckles cracking ominously:

"Fine, if you want to poach my disciple, go ahead. Whoever beats me gets my precious apprentice."

The hall fell dead silent.