The elder in white and pink stepped forward with a poise that immediately set him apart. His movements were fluid, as if every gesture had been rehearsed a thousand times until nothing but perfection remained. His long dark hair was bound in silver thread, and his expression bore the cool confidence of someone who had never known failure.

  Not arrogance born of ego. But the quiet arrogance of excellence.

  “I am Elder Hua Lianjian of the Mount Hua Sect.”

  He allowed the name to settle, as if it needed no elaboration.

  “Mount Hua,” he continued, “has stood as a pillar of sword cultivation. Our teachings do not confine themselves to any single form of the blade. Whether short or long, curved or straight, elegant or brutal—a sword is but an extension of the heart.”

  “Our focus is not the shape of the weapon, but the philosophy behind its swing.We teach our disciples to embody the sword—not wield it. To breathe with it. To move with it. To become it.”

  He stepped lightly forward and extended his hand. With no fanfare, a sword of glass-like steel appeared at his side—neither glowing nor humming, but so perfectly polished it reflected the faces in the crowd like a mirror.

  He raised it slowly, and with one calm motion, traced a line through the air. Where his sword passed, the light bent.

  He returned his sword to his side, allowing it to vanish into thin air. Then, he raised his hand once more.

  But this time… he did not summon a sword.

  Instead, two distinct objects appeared before him—floating in perfect balance.

  A hushed stir moved through the cultivators present.

  Every sect so far had offered a single gift.

  But Elder Hua offered two.

  He gestured toward the first item—a robe of soft, radiant fabric, its texture light and flowing, with floral patterns that shimmered faintly. A subtle calming fragrance drifted from it.

  “This is the Petalshade Blossom Robe,” he said. “Woven from the rare spirit-infused petals of the Eternal Spring Bloom—flowers that blossom only once every hundred years atop Mount Hua’s highest cliffs. It offers spiritual resonance with the body’s Qi, softens incoming spiritual force, and moves with the wearer like a breeze through blossoms. It is made for the art of cultivation through grace and flow.”

  Then, to the second item—a small lacquered box appeared in the air, which opened to reveal a porcelain gourd marked with Mount Hua’s crest.

  “And this… is our Sword Soul Harmonization Tea. Brewed only for those we believe may one day embody their sword completely. Drinking it will allow you to commune with your Soul Weapon—sharpening your bond, deepening your understanding, and guiding your steps toward perfect sword resonance, allowing you to earn your sword’s true name much faster.”

  As his words washed over the hall, something inside me stirred.

  “To earn your sword’s true name…”

  Those exact words.

  My breath caught—just for a moment. A prickle ran down my spine, like a string being pulled taut within me.

  I had heard them once before.

  Not from the mouth of a cultivator… but from the system that had rewritten my fate.

  Fate-Defying Sword.

  That was the name it had whispered to me. The moment I fell. The moment the gate opened. The moment my second life began.

  I had believed it was unique—something beyond comprehension. A secret held between me and whatever power granted me this system.

  But now, I learned it was not a secret.

  It was a concept.

  A sword’s true name… was a real thing.

  What did it mean, then? What was a true name? Was it a measure of compatibility? Of cultivation? Of the bond between soul weapon and its wielder? I didn’t know. And in truth, I wanted to ask—desperately.

  The question sat on my tongue like a weight.

  But I was no fool.

  Interrupting them would draw irritation I couldn’t afford. So I said nothing.

  I held the question in silence, burying it deep into the folds of my thoughts.

  Later, I will look into this whenever I can.

  Elder Hua lowered his hand as the two items gently faded from view.

  “Mount Hua does not shape blades to conquer others,” he said at last, “but to master the self. If that is the path you seek… our mountain awaits you.”

  And then… he returned to his seat.

  The final figure stood.

  Where the other elders had risen with calm pride, this woman rose like a blade being drawn—ready to cut through her competition.

  Her robes were pristine white, embroidered with faint violet patterns. A long veil hung in front of her face, attached to hair so pale it was nearly silver, flowing down to her waist.

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  When she bowed, it was effortless.

  “I am Elder Bai Ruyin of the Emei Sect.”

  Her voice carried no aggression. Smooth and melodious, yet with an unmistakable edge beneath it.

  “Our sect is unlike the others here. We are women—only women. Our techniques are not forged for strength, but for grace and lethality.”

  She stepped forward, and with a flick of her fingers, summoned a sword—thin and elegant, its thinness far exceeding Lan Rou’s own soul weapon.

  “You wield a blade most would call impractical. Too long. Too light. Too fragile. But to us, it is perfect. We have cultivated with such weapons for generations. You would not need to adapt to us. We already walk your path.”

  But then… Elder Bai’s aura sharpened. Her head turned to where the other sect leaders sat, and her words shifted in tone.

  “And yet… not a single one of them mentioned your physique. The Celestial Orchid Physique—a body constitution so rare, it appears only once every ten thousand years.”

  She raised a single finger, her voice dipping lower—not to whisper, but to strike.

  “Do you know why they did not mention it? Why not one of them dared to speak of it?”

  Lan Rou didn’t respond. Her hands trembled faintly at her sides.

  “Because they can’t. Because this physique… only appears in women.”

  “The Celestial Orchid Physique harmonizes with Qi like no other, allowing for profound spiritual growth, rapid cultivation gains, and unmatched purity of inner flow. But more than that…It is one of the most sought-after dual cultivation bodies in the world.”

  Gasps and murmurs swelled again, louder now. Even among the high platform, a few sect leaders shifted uncomfortably.

  Lan Rou looked stunned, uncertain what to say—her lips parted, but no words came.

  “Tell me, child. If you were to join their sects… do you know what that would mean?”

  Lan Rou didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

  So Elder Bai answered for her.

  “It means becoming the focus of every man’s gaze. Gaze not of respect—but of hunger.”

  “A beautiful young woman with a frail frame and a once-in-ten-thousand-years dual cultivation physique? Do you truly believe their male disciples would resist the temptation? That they would not try to win your favor—or force it? Do you think the women in their sects would praise you? Or hate you, watching their lovers, their brothers, their masters give you all their attention?”

  Her voice turned cold.

  “The lust of men is dangerous. But the envy of women? That is deadly.”

  And then she looked at Lan Rou again, voice softening just slightly—not in pity, but in promise.

  “In our sect, you would not be watched. You would be understood. You would be trained by women who walked the same path. You would never need to fear whether your cultivation came with a price hidden behind someone’s smile.”

  She let the tension linger for only a breath longer before continuing.

  “The Celestial Orchid Physique is not unknown to us.”

  She raised her head slightly, chin lifted with pride.

  “Throughout our sect’s long history, whenever this physique has appeared, it has always chosen the Emei Sect. And not once has one of those chosen failed to ascend to the higher realms under the sect’s guidance.”

  “We know this constitution intimately. We have preserved records, techniques, and personalized guidance that align with your cultivation. The method that has chosen you—the Nine-Petal Amethyst Sutra—is a profound and rare scripture that harmonizes perfectly with the Celestial Orchid Physique.”

  She looked directly at Lan Rou now, her voice softening in tone but not in power.

  “You were not given that technique by chance. You were born for it. And we are the only sect that knows how to help you realize its true potential. Others may offer treasures, pills, or robes. But we offer understanding. We offer a lineage that has cared for your path across history.”

  From her sleeve, she slowly raised a small velvet box, letting it open with a delicate flick of her fingers.

  Floating above her palm was a bracelet unlike any other.

  A fine circlet of silver filaments, thin as thread and impossibly intricate. Embedded into its delicate weave were nine small orchid-shaped gems, each one carved from soft-pink jade and radiating a gentle inner glow.

  The very air around it seemed lighter and more vibrant.

  “This is the Orchid Vein Seal.”

  Gasps echoed quietly across the room.

  “A spiritual treasure refined for one purpose: to aid those who carry the Celestial Orchid Physique. When worn, it passively absorbs ambient Qi from your surroundings—whether in meditation, cultivation, or even sleep. Every breath you take will bring you strength. Every still moment will push your cultivation further.”

  She closed the box with a soft click and lowered her hand with poise.

  “It has waited generations for a rightful owner. And now… it waits for you.”

  “We are not the largest sect. Nor the richest. But we are yours. The choice is yours too. But choose with clear eyes and a logical mind.”

  She bowed deeply—lower than any of the other sects had before her.

  And then, in one fluid motion, returned to her seat.

  Silence followed, because everyone in the hall understood…

  A storm of decisions was now in Lan Rou’s hands.

  The announcer stepped forward once more, his expression composed, though a faint sheen of sweat clung to his brow, a sign of the pressure even he felt.

  He bowed respectfully to the five seated elders.

  “My sincerest thanks to each of the esteemed sects for your generous presentations.”

  Then, his gaze shifted to the center of the open circle where Lan Rou stood, still as glass, her long hair brushing the folds of her clothes.

  “Lan Rou,” he called gently, “you have heard their words, witnessed their sincerity, and received their offers. Now, the decision lies with you. Which sect… do you choose to follow?”

  The chamber was silent.

  Lan Rou remained where she was, her head lowered slightly, shoulders tense—not from fear, but from deep contemplation.

  And I understood.

  She wasn’t hesitating because she didn’t value what had been offered.

  She was hesitating because every path held merit.

  The Wudang Sect’s deflective swordplay matched her weapon’s length and delicacy. Mount Hua’s philosophy and harmonization techniques spoke volume. Even Qingcheng and Shaolin had offered her tools of significant value.

  But Elder Bai of Emei… she had spoken the truth.

  I had only known Lan Rou for a fleeting moment, yet even in that time, it was clear—she was kind, soft-spoken, and far more delicate than she would ever admit. Brave, yes—but not confrontational. She would never thrive under the scrutiny of jealous peers or the gaze of lustful cultivators who saw her as a prize to be earned or claimed.

  She needed safety. She needed quiet. And above all, she needed a place where she wouldn’t have to defend herself simply for existing.

  Only one sect had offered her that.

  At last, Lan Rou lifted her head.

  She took a small breath and stepped forward. Then she bowed deeply and gracefully

  “I thank the honored elders of every sect for their kindness and their generous offerings.”

  Her voice was quiet… but steady.

  “But I have made my decision… I wish to walk the path of cultivation under the Emei Sect guidance.”