The Azure Sky Sect's headquarters loomed like a grand palace at the heart of its vast domain, its towering spires and intricate carvings exuding both prestige and authority.

  This was where decisions that shaped the future of the sect were made—where honor was bestowed, and where oaths became binding.

  Before the immense central palace, a sea of disciples had gathered.

  Inner Disciples, Outer Disciples, Nameless Disciples, and even fresh Apprentices—every rank was present, standing in reverent silence.

  At the forefront, the Elders and Hall Masters stood in orderly rows, their presence exuding an undeniable weight. Behind them, their respective Core Disciples held their positions with silent pride.

  And at the very center of it all—the Sect Master.

  His gaze was fixed upon Nyuru, a gifted alchemist whose name had long been whispered throughout the sect.

  The crisp morning air carried the scent of burning incense, its smoke spiraling toward the heavens like an unspoken prayer.

  Dressed in deep blue Core Disciple robes embroidered with golden patterns, Nyuru stood before the Sect Master.

  Though her heart pounded, her stance remained steady and resolute.

  To the left of the Sect Master, a woman with a commanding yet serene presence stepped forward—Master Ruyin, the Hall Master of Alchemy and Nyuru’s new mentor.

  Her long black hair cascaded to her waist, a golden ribbon woven through it—a sign of her status and mastery.

  Though her sharp gaze carried the weight of authority, there was a subtle warmth beneath her exterior, as if she saw potential where others saw only raw talent.

  "Nyuru."

  The Sect Master’s voice rang out, shattering the solemn silence.

  "Today, you do not merely rise to the rank of Core Disciple. You are granted a far rarer honor—an apprenticeship under Master Ruyin, one of the greatest alchemists on this continent."

  He paused, letting his words sink in.

  "Be grateful, for such an opportunity is not given to many."

  Master Ruyin raised a hand.

  A servant swiftly approached, carrying a silver tray.

  Upon it lay two golden-scripted parchments, a ritual jade knife, and a cup of sacred wine.

  With effortless grace, Ruyin picked up the jade knife, drawing a small incision across her palm.

  A single drop of crimson blood fell into the wine, merging with the liquid until it shimmered with an eerie crimson-gold glow.

  She extended the cup toward Nyuru.

  "Drink."

  Her voice was even, but the weight behind it was undeniable.

  "My blood is my oath. If you remain loyal to this path, my knowledge and protection will be yours. But if you betray it…"

  She let the words linger, allowing the unspoken threat to settle in the air.

  Nyuru did not hesitate.

  Lifting the cup, she drank to the last drop.

  A surge of spiritual energy flooded her meridians, sending a slight tremor through her body.

  From above, a streak of divine light shot across the sky, sweeping over the courtyard—a celestial acknowledgment of the sacred vow.

  The Sect Master nodded in approval.

  "Now, kneel!"

  Nyuru immediately obeyed.

  Master Ruyin stepped forward, placing her palm gently atop Nyuru’s head.

  In an instant, a blue flame-like seal ignited on Nyuru’s forehead, its glow pulsing for a fleeting moment before vanishing.

  "With this," Ruyin declared, "I acknowledge you as my true disciple."

  A murmur rippled through the crowd, then—

  Thunderous cheers erupted.

  Yet beneath the celebration, hushed whispers carried envy and speculation.

  "Nyuru was already an alchemy genius, but now she's a Core Disciple too? Just how far will she rise?"

  The answer was clear—far beyond most.

  Nyuru took a deep breath, bowed to the Sect Master and the assembled Elders, then turned and bowed once more—to her fellow disciples.

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  This wasn’t just a ritual of promotion.

  It was a declaration.

  A Core Disciple’s fate was now inextricably tied to the sect itself.

  Whatever happened to her beyond these walls would reflect upon Azure Sky itself.

  Among the spectators, Yulin exhaled softly, watching Nyuru step into her new role.

  But before the cheers fully faded, the Sect Master spoke again.

  "Next, we shall welcome another disciple."

  His voice resonated through the courtyard, commanding attention.

  "For certain reasons, we have decided to grant him a unique and distinguished identity."

  Confusion flickered across the faces of many.

  Only those who had been in Vinix City knew the rumors surrounding this promotion.

  "Bring him forward."

  The palace doors swung open.

  And then—he stepped into view.

  A striking young man with long, flowing hair, moving with an unshaken, deliberate ease.

  He was tall, standing at 182 cm, his light blue Taoist robe adorned with intricate golden embroidery, identical to that of a Core Disciple.

  Yet, there was one unmistakable difference.

  On the back of his robe was a golden dragon, biting down on a hexagonal leaf motif—a symbol unlike any other.

  A symbol of the Divine Disciple.

  Devor.

  In an instant, the atmosphere changed.

  Where there had been cheers and admiration for Nyuru—now, a heavy silence took hold.

  All eyes locked onto the young man in blue, their gazes filled with an array of emotions.

  Shock.

  Jealousy.

  Unease.

  Devor, once nothing more than an Outer Disciple, had risen to a position beyond even Core Disciples.

  He had long been known as a Spiritual Farmer, a caretaker of the sect’s herb gardens—a man whose past was filled with both triumph and controversy.

  But as he stood before them now…

  He no longer carried the aura of a mere farmer.

  There was something different about him.

  A calm, effortless presence—a quiet mastery, as if he had long since become one with the very plants he had spent years tending.

  Yet for many watching…

  His presence felt unnatural.

  Even dangerous.

  Whispers rose from the crowd.

  Even the Elders exchanged subtle glances, their expressions unreadable.

  The Sect Master, however, remained unmoved.

  He knew what this moment meant.

  And he knew that from this day forward—

  Devor’s mere existence would shake the very balance of the sect.

  A hushed murmur swept through the gathered Elders.

  "Divine Disciple..." one of them whispered in disbelief.

  It was a new title, an honor never before bestowed in the history of the Azure Sky Sect.

  A Divine Disciple was both privileged and burdened—granted authority equal to a Core Disciple, yet left to walk the path of cultivation alone, without the direct guidance of a master.

  It was an acknowledgment of unparalleled talent, but also a challenge.

  Not everyone believed Devor was worthy of such a distinction.

  The Sect Master raised his hand, and the murmuring ceased.

  His gaze was steady, unreadable, yet there was a weight behind his words as he addressed Devor.

  "You have proven that dedication and perseverance can surpass the constraints of status."

  A moment of silence followed.

  Then, his voice carried across the courtyard, reaching not only Devor but every disciple who had once doubted him.

  "Even without a master, you have forged your own methods of cultivation. You turned barren land in the Fragment World into a thriving, self-sustaining ecosystem. You have cultivated power where none existed before."

  Devor bowed deeply, his expression calm.

  No arrogance.

  No need for unnecessary pride.

  Only an unshakable confidence—the kind that did not need to be spoken aloud.

  The Sect Master’s gaze remained firm.

  "The title of Divine Disciple is not just an empty name." His words carried a hidden warning. "You will have access to the sect’s resources at the same level as a Core Disciple. You may learn from many masters, gain wisdom from numerous teachings, but in the end, your path must be carved by your own hands. No one can walk it for you. No Elder will intervene in your cultivation. The trials ahead will be yours alone to face. Are you prepared for this responsibility?"

  Devor’s answer was immediate.

  "I am ready."

  His voice was deep and steady, like the roots of an ancient tree anchoring itself into the earth.

  A servant stepped forward, carrying a bronze tray.

  Upon it lay the Divine Disciple’s Token—a hexagonal crystal medal shaped like a leaf, within which a swirling dragon’s shadow could be seen.

  The Sect Master lifted the token, pressing it against Devor’s forehead.

  The moment it made contact—

  A golden light flared, illuminating the courtyard.

  For a brief second, an ethereal leaf-like seal ignited on Devor’s skin before vanishing into his flesh.

  A silent declaration.

  A binding acknowledgment.

  "With this, I name you Divine Disciple of the Azure Sky Sect," the Sect Master intoned. "Carry this honor wisely, and remember—a strong root does not fear the wind."

  A wave of subdued cheers followed.

  Yet unlike Nyuru’s ascension, where excitement had filled the air, Devor’s promotion was met with a lingering tension.

  Among the Outer Disciples, some had tears in their eyes, moved by Devor’s rise—proof that even those from humble origins could defy fate itself.

  But among the Inner Disciples and Core Disciples, expressions were more complicated.

  Some were inspired.

  Others were... uneasy.

  Devor had not followed the conventional path.

  And for those who had spent years climbing the rigid hierarchy, his ascension felt like a disruption to the natural order.

  Even worse—many who had once mocked Devor behind his back now feared what his rise meant for their future.

  Would he seek revenge? Would he use his newfound authority to make their lives difficult?

  Or would he simply continue forward, leaving them to drown in their own regrets?

  Devor turned toward the gathered disciples, bowing three times—first to the Sect Master and the Elders, then to his fellow cultivators.

  In the crowd, Yulin smiled softly, her eyes shimmering.

  For a moment, she saw twelve-year-old Devor standing in that same courtyard—young, uncertain, but full of determination.

  Now, he stood before them as a man, strong, composed… and undeniably handsome.

  Who could have predicted that the boy from back then would grow this much, this fast?

  From the stage, Devor’s gaze shifted.

  Not for sentimental reasons.

  Not because he was overwhelmed by his own rise.

  But because something caught his attention.

  Ever since advancing to Foundation Building, his Attribute Analyzer had evolved into a Spiritual Analyzer.

  And now, when he turned his enhanced sight upon Yulin…

  A notification flickered before his eyes.

  [ Name: Yulin Fu ]

  [ Gender: Female ]

  [ Age: 26/313 ]

  [ Cultivation: ??? ]

  [ Other Aspects: Cursed Bloodline ]

  Yulin had never revealed her surname—not once in all the years they had known each other.

  And yet, the system had uncovered it.

  Fu.

  The same surname as Yiru Fu.

  The Fu Empire.

  His mind whirled. Could she be related? It seemed impossible. Yulin had known him since his mortal days, watching from afar even before he embarked on the path of cultivation.

  But then—

  Cursed Bloodline?

  That was new.

  Devor’s eyes lingered on Yulin.

  She had always been graceful, sociable, and easy to befriend. But behind that warmth, there had always been something deeper.

  She wasn’t just talented—she was strategic.

  She had chosen to take on the roles of Spiritual Farmer and Alchemist, not because she lacked combat ability, but because she needed resources to support another path—Flying Swords.

  She had made calculated sacrifices, hiding her strength while quietly accumulating power.

  And now, this.

  A bloodline curse.

  A connection to one of the most powerful empires in existence.

  For the first time, Devor saw not just a friend, but a mystery standing before him.