Chapter 001 Just You?

"Whoosh~"

A torrential downpour crashed down, draping the endless, rugged mountains in a wild curtain of rain. At the end of a wide black stone path that wound from the foot of the mountain up to its waist, on a flat and imposing stone platform, a ragged figure knelt, letting the rain soak him completely without a care. He simply straightened his back and knelt on the platform, facing the direction of the grand hall.

Even though the young man's delicate face had lost all color and his whole body trembled uncontrollably from the cold and hunger, the torment nearly making him faint, he still gritted his teeth and remained kneeling, his expression resolute.

The rain grew heavier. Not only was the youth drenched, but his body swayed again and again in the storm, on the verge of collapsing. Only then did two young men in black slowly emerge from the grand hall. Glancing at the youth, the taller one’s eyes flashed with a strange look. "David Clark, come inside and get out of the rain."

Not only did the tall youth look odd, but the thinner one beside him also had a peculiar expression in his eyes.

"Thank you for your kindness, seniors, but I’d like to hold on a bit longer. Elder Harris said that as long as I show sincerity, he’ll make an exception and accept me into the sect. I will persevere." After the tall youth spoke, the boy David Clark forced a smile and answered firmly.

But the thin youth at the hall entrance couldn’t help but curse, "You idiot, Senior Brother Harris is messing with you! With your aptitude, our The Grand Temple is already the fiftieth sect to turn you away. You’re not suited for cultivation at all, and you’ve really knelt here for three days and nights? If you keep kneeling, your legs will be ruined!"

"No, Elder Harris isn’t the type to play tricks on someone like me. Thank you both for your concern, but I’ll keep going." At the scolding, David Clark's face turned pale and a flicker of doubt flashed in his eyes, but he still gritted his teeth and spoke.

"Idiot!"

"Forget him. Let him kneel if he wants. Never seen someone so stubborn—clearly not fit for cultivation, yet so hard-headed. If he dies here, he deserves it!"

...

The two figures in the hall paused again, then cursed under their breath as they retreated inside. Even as they left, their eyes still held that strange look—a mix of mockery, disdain, and even a hint of respect.

In a world where martial arts reign supreme, those with talent can grow ever stronger through cultivation. The first step is spiritual attunement: absorbing the spiritual energies of metal, wood, wind, fire, earth, and other elements into the body. As one accumulates cultivation, the body gradually transforms toward a spiritual form. Spiritual attunement has nine levels; above the ninth is Martial Saint. A powerful martial artist can suppress the world with a thought, stir the clouds, soar through the sky, and burrow through the earth. A martial artist’s talent is often measured by how many elements they can attune to: one is ordinary, two is a genius, three or four is a super or peerless genius. Though legends speak of five or six elements, with six being the human limit, those are just legends. In such a world, all the dominant forces are martial sects.

In Laiguo’s Lingya Prefecture, Wangshan County stretches thousands of miles in every direction and boasts over a hundred martial sects. Aside from three exalted second-rank sects, the rest are all first-rank.

Whenever the sects open their doors to new disciples, countless youths from all over dream of joining. Although The Grand Temple is also a first-rank sect, it is a prestigious one among the hundred in Wangshan County, attracting at least ten thousand hopefuls every year. This year is no exception.

Out of tens of thousands, only a few hundred are accepted; most are turned away. David Clark, kneeling outside, was one of those rejected. But who would have thought that after being refused, he would beg the examiner from The Grand Temple to make an exception and let him in.

The scene erupted. Not only did the other candidates stir, but the Inner Senior Brother Brooks in charge of the final round also laughed and said, "I can make an exception, but you have to show your sincerity, right?" So David Clark knelt outside the entrance of The Grand Temple, kneeling for three days and nights without food or water, never once standing up, persisting even as the heavens poured down rain.

"Let’s hope this kid doesn’t die at our sect’s gate. That would look bad. Should I go ask Senior Brother Harris?"

...

After cursing, the two figures exchanged glances again. The tall youth couldn’t help but roll his eyes—he truly couldn’t understand the boy outside.

In the past two years, the youth David Clark had walked thousands of miles on foot, crossing countless mountains and plains, attending the disciple selection of forty or fifty sects. He passed every character test, but was always rejected for poor aptitude. Even a fool should realize by now that he’s not cut out for martial cultivation, right? Yet this kid still persists?

And all because of a joke from the Senior Brother Brooks in charge of the The Grand Temple exam, he’s been kneeling outside ever since?

To be this stubbornly foolish—there’s no saving him!