People began to gather in front of the red-robed outer elders, who stepped forward to receive them.

Although the crowd was large, it was mostly made up of spectators and family members of those who would actually participate in the recruitment.

Aside from the slight hesitation in the air—caused by waiting for others to take the initiative and pave the way first—and the fact that the recruitment would last two days, only a few stepped forward to be the example.

The first to arrive in front of one of the elders was a middle-aged man with black hair and a thin frame, visibly nervous, which was a little inconsistent, considering he was the first to step up.

“Wan Peng—” The man raised his fists, ready to clasp them and bow respectfully, but before he could, the elder in front of him grabbed his raised wrist and cut off his introduction.

Without hesitation, the elder made his energy invade the man’s spiritual roots directly, without any conversation.

There, Aotian immediately sensed a blend of four elements—excluding earth—flowing through the person’s roots. Judging by their remarkable thickness, consistency, and resilience, it was evident this was a high-grade root, four times superior in these qualities compared to a low-grade one.

Analyzing a bit more, Aotian saw that the man’s spiritual foundation wasn’t great, with some areas showing impurities, unevenly nourished roots, and slight inconsistencies in his dantian. Even so, this could be corrected over time with the synthesized techniques the sect could provide him.

For the first test, he was approved. It didn’t require much—just high-quality roots.

The next step was checking his character.

“You have the necessary qualifications. Go find Elder Lie Zheng to take the character test.”

The red-robed elder spoke plainly, ignoring the stunned man and returning to await the next candidates.

The man took a moment to process the unexpected pace of things, and before he could understand it, he had already passed the first test, leaving him muttering in shock. But he quickly quieted when he realized the elder no longer paid him any attention.

Aotian didn’t intend to listen to each person’s self-introduction. The line was long and not all would be accepted, so he chose to be direct and cold—unlucky for the man, who was already nervous even before this happened.

Swallowing dryly, the man could only look at the imposing Lie Zheng, the elder of the Punishment Pavilion who had introduced himself earlier, still waiting in the same position with arms behind his back and a straight posture.

Swallowing again, he forced his trembling legs to nervously walk forward and felt his body freeze when Lie Zheng slowly turned his gaze in his direction.

“Don’t waste time. Step forward.”

Lie Zheng said simply, startling the man, who quickly snapped out of it and quickened his pace.

Stopping before the fearsome elder, he lowered his head and prepared to salute, but Lie Zheng raised his hand, stopping him.

“There’s no need for formalities. Just answer the question. Have you ever harmed an innocent? Don’t lie—because I will know.”

Lie Zheng asked in his hoarse and heavy voice, maintaining his serious expression.

The man trembled even more. He opened his mouth, ready to lie, but fear overwhelmed him. Gritting his teeth, he ended up admitting:

“I-I don’t know if this counts as harming… but once, I went to explore an abandoned spirit mine with my best friend… a powerful beast suddenly appeared… a-and I couldn’t do anything, so… I ran…”

The more he spoke, the weaker his voice became, and sadness took over his face, which lowered toward the ground.

It might not have been direct harm, but it was a sin that weighed on his heart, and if he didn’t say anything, he felt that elder would find out anyway. So, he confessed.

Lie Zheng stared at him impassively, but his energy flowed through his veins in a complex pattern.

His Position Ability, Lie Detector, was active.

Deep emotions from the man’s heart began flowing toward him.

Lie Zheng felt that his words were true—but incomplete.

When the man mentioned his best friend, Lie Zheng sensed sadness, loneliness, doubt… and a trace of jealousy.

But when he spoke of fleeing, what he felt was certainty, lack of regret, and a deeply rooted cowardice.

Aotian deduced that he probably hadn’t even tried or considered putting himself at risk to save his best friend’s life.

He only thought of himself and simply felt sad about the friend’s misfortune and the loss of his company.

With that, Aotian was already leaning toward rejecting the candidate.

Cultivators were often selfish and prioritized their own lives over strangers’—but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be loyal or compassionate to those close to them.

In Aotian’s view, that man would not be a good addition to the sect.

Even so, he probed deeper out of principle.

In the man’s eyes, despite his outward respect, there was envy and jealousy toward Lie Zheng’s strength, slight resentment for the indifference with which he was treated, and other negative emotions.

That, in itself, wasn’t a huge problem. But Aotian preferred that disciples in his sect possess a burning desire to grow, rather than just envy others in the shadows.

As for the resentment from being treated with indifference, it was understandable. Still, he should have more patience and understand that until he was recruited, he was nothing to them.

Even so, that alone wouldn’t be decisive… if only there had been a shred of regret in his heart for abandoning someone close to him to save his own life.

Maybe if he had helped his friend, the two wouldn’t have died.

But in his eyes, Aotian—through Lie Zheng—could see that he hadn’t even considered that possibility.

There was also the fact that he was hiding something in his words, and the jealousy directed at the deceased friend.

Aotian didn’t know whether he had abandoned him intentionally out of jealousy, or simply didn’t consider helping him at all, or whether he failed to save him because of negative feelings.

The sadness he identified in the man’s heart might have only arisen after the friend’s death.

In any case, there were too many negative marks—and the result, inevitable.

“You do not fit the profile our sect is looking for. You may leave.”

Lie Zheng declared with indifference, leaving the man in shock.

“I-I didn’t mean to! After that, I regretted it, even now I blame myself… I—”

Panicking, the man began to argue, but the powerful aura of Lie Zheng struck him, pressing down on him so fiercely that his knees began to buckle.

Sweat poured down like a waterfall, and terror filled his gaze.

Lie Zheng stared at him coldly.

“I told you not to lie. The only thing I hate more than evil is liars and cowards. Now, disappear from my sight, or I’ll make you disappear.”

Lie Zheng spoke with icy finality, and the threat was crystal clear.

To Aotian, his words only confirmed further that this man was an undesirable addition, an unworthy person. He had practically admitted to Lie Zheng: I abandoned him on purpose. I didn’t regret it. I don’t feel guilty.

Horrified by the overwhelming aura, the already cowardly man’s heart nearly stopped.

Falling back onto his rear, he didn’t hesitate for a second before scrambling backward, then turning and sprinting away, fleeing in terror under Lie Zheng’s cold gaze.

Lie Zheng remained there, in the exact same spot he had been since the beginning, with his hands behind his back, not moving a single inch throughout the entire incident.

Yet the man fled as if a ferocious predator were chasing him.

His aura slowly faded, and what remained were only admiring gazes from the crowd directed at him.

Was there fear in their hearts? Of course there was. But this was a world where fearing the strong was a daily occurrence—and as long as you weren’t the target of that strength, you could admire it openly.

With that example set, the people in the crowd became bolder rather than more hesitant.

They saw that someone who didn’t meet the requirements was simply dismissed without anything happening.

As long as they didn’t insist or lie, they wouldn’t be publicly humiliated like that man.

Of course, that only applied if they didn’t fall into the category of miserable sinners in Elder Lie Zheng’s eyes.

In truth, Aotian had considered being a little harsher with the man, but feared scaring off future disciples, and the loss wouldn’t be worth it for a moment of anger.

Besides, from what he deduced, the man had merely refused to help his friend—he didn’t lure the beast to him or cause his death intentionally.

It didn’t improve Aotian’s opinion of him, but killing him publicly over it would’ve been a bit extreme.

The example also served to deter others, like Shen He’s cousin, who was in the crowd with a frightened look and no longer dared to act arrogantly as he had before.

Feeling the pressure and seriousness from Lie Zheng and the elders, he gave up the idea of trying his luck with his medium-quality root—and his sins, which he knew were not few.

Thus, the recruitment continued, while the disciples, with nothing to do, took the opportunity to wander off and revisit family or acquaintances, or simply to stroll or find a spot to cultivate.

Aotian had already granted them permission to do so beforehand, through his avatar Lie Zheng.

Their usefulness was in showing that they were alive, healthy, and strong—and merely interacting and walking through the city already contributed to the mission of recruiting new disciples.

Aotian and Rihai also held hands, ready to head off.

“Any place you want to go?”

Aotian asked, looking into her eyes.

“Nowhere in particular.”

Rihai simply shook her head, looking back at him with her beautiful blue eyes.

“Alright then, let’s just walk aimlessly.”

He shrugged, and she smiled at him in agreement.

So the two began to walk with no destination in mind.

What they didn’t know was that, inside Shen He’s pendant, the old man who was analyzing the situation happened—by pure chance—to glance in their direction.

He merely passed his gaze over the couple of disciples walking hand-in-hand, about to look away again, when suddenly, his heart trembled—and he immediately returned his gaze to them in surprise.

His eyes didn’t linger even for a moment on Aotian but locked directly onto Rihai’s face, and he couldn’t help but feel an intense sense of familiarity with that face, even though he was certain he had never seen it before.

‘Strange… why does your face feel so familiar to me? Why does it seem like I’ve seen you somewhere before? But where? I’ve been dead for probably close to a thousand years—how could I know such a young girl, and one who lives in a desert continent of all places?’

He thought in confusion, but his eyes did not leave her figure for even a moment, as if something deep inside him was quietly drawn to her.

It was an extremely strong sense of familiarity.

‘What the hell is going on?’

The old man’s gaze grew complex, trying to understand the source of this strange feeling.

Curious, he couldn’t help but discreetly release his spiritual energy to examine her, trying to find clues about the origin of this sensation.

But then his expression twisted into horror, and he couldn’t help but exclaim aloud:

“How is this possible?!”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep