Chapter Seventeen: The Disciple Selection Tournament Begins

When Qin Xiaochuan finally squeezed his way to the front of the crowd, he saw a frail, diminutive old woman standing in the center of the corridor. She wore a fitted martial arts outfit, appearing remarkably spirited, and her graying hair was topped with a black martial arts cap embroidered with the character "Spirit" at the center, commanding respect and making it impossible to underestimate her.

So this is Master Jinghai, he mused. I thought she’d be a burly martial arts instructor. Xia Dan never mentioned that Master Jinghai was a woman, let alone an old lady. Is she really as formidable as everyone claims?

As Qin Xiaochuan scrutinized Master Jinghai, lost in thought, the petite old woman stepped up to the microphone stand before her, took the microphone in hand, and tapped it a couple of times to check the sound.

“Hello, hello, that’s good. Everyone, please quiet down. I am Master Jinghai, the one you all wish to study the secret arts under…”

Her voice, though tinged with age, sounded kindly and carried clearly through the microphone to every ear in the courtyard. The moment the crowd heard her speak, they fell silent. Yet, as they looked upon the shrunken, withered figure on the corridor, several contestants began whispering among themselves.

“Hey, is that really the legendary Master Jinghai?”

“It is, but she doesn’t look it. She’s so tiny.”

“She barely comes up to my waist. I bet I could knock her down with a finger. Hard to believe this is the famous Master Jinghai.”

A few people dressed in martial arts attire near Qin Xiaochuan whispered to each other, clearly sharing his disbelief that this frail old woman could be the legendary master.

“My standards for disciples are extremely strict. Anyone who fails the selection will be eliminated. Now, we begin the first test…”

The crowd instantly fell silent at the mention of the first test. What would the mysterious Master Jinghai’s test be? All held their breath, waiting expectantly. The atmosphere was so tense one could have heard a pin drop.

“It is… drawing lots!”

A collective gasp echoed through the crowd, and many fell back in shock, utterly surprised that the legendary master would choose her disciples by drawing lots. It was truly baffling.

“What? Drawing lots?” Qin Xiaochuan glanced at Zhang Yang, who was equally dumbfounded, rendered speechless by this selection method. So much for the rumors of mystical selection—this seemed anything but miraculous.

“Everyone, please come forward one by one. Inside this jar are sealed slips of paper,” Master Jinghai explained calmly, placing a jar filled with paper slips before her and holding the microphone as she outlined the rules. “If you draw a slip with a label, hold on to it without opening it. Only open your slip when I say so. If anyone opens theirs beforehand, they forfeit. You—let’s start with you.”

She pointed to a student-like contestant below, and the test began.

With the first person in place, the rest lined up behind, each taking their turn to draw a lot.

What a farce, thought Qin Xiaochuan as he waited in line, hands in his pockets, scanning the crowd for the demon child rumored to be among them. This old lady is nothing like the stories. Once I’m done with this, I can go home and rest. Xia Dan’s advice was useless—who selects disciples like this? Her methods are bizarre.

Behind him, Zhang Yang seemed equally dissatisfied. Drawing lots? Fine by me if I don’t get picked. I just want to ask her about my spirit hearing, he thought, lost in his own concerns.

Once the last contestant had drawn a slip, Master Jinghai picked up the microphone, cleared her throat, and addressed the group: “Now, I will announce the rules. Open your sealed slips. Those with a red slip pass the first test; those with a white slip fail and are disqualified from advancing. You may look now…”

“Great! I got it!”

“Damn, it’s white…”

“I got it too—it’s red! Woohoo!”

“No luck for me. What about you?”

“Me neither…”

As some celebrated drawing a red slip and others, frustrated, tossed their white slips to the ground, Master Jinghai’s face bore a satisfied smile. You fools think it’s just a slip of paper? That paper is made from special materials to test spirit power. Only those with sufficient spiritual energy can react with the solvent on the slip and turn it red. Did you really think I’d leave my selection to luck? Idiots.

“No luck… no luck… no luck…” Qin Xiaochuan muttered as he unfolded his slip, surprised to see it was red. “Hey, Zhang Yang, what about yours?”

“Mine’s red, too.”

Both of their spirit energy levels had passed.

“Those who drew a red slip, follow me to the next testing location. The rest, please leave,” Master Jinghai announced, seeing that the results were out.

“Wait!” As she was about to leave, two burly men dressed in fortune-teller garb blocked her path. One, with a scarred face and a bushy beard, shouted at her, “We’re famous spirit users around Qingcheng. How dare you use this draw-lots nonsense to eliminate us? Do you take us for a joke?”

“That’s right! My brother here is correct. You owe us an explanation! Even if you’re the master, if your words don’t make sense, we won’t let this slide.”

“Yeah, explain yourself, or I won’t be so polite.”

“Stop your squawking, you brats,” Master Jinghai retorted, hands clasped behind her back, looking up at the men twice her size with mocking eyes. “You call yourselves spirit users, yet you couldn’t even draw the right slip? What a joke. I was letting you leave with dignity, but it seems…”

“What? Damn this old witch… how dare she mock us…” Enraged by her words, the two men raised their fists, ready to attack.

Seeing them charge at Master Jinghai, Qin Xiaochuan hesitated, wondering if he should intervene. With her small frame, she might be sent flying with a single blow.

“Hah!” Master Jinghai’s eyebrows shot up, her eyes widened, and she let out a thunderous roar at the two men. Without touching them, an invisible force burst from her, sending the hulking figures flying out of the courtyard.

“Wow! Did you see that? Master Jinghai didn’t even touch them—they just went flying!”

“Yes, incredible! The rumors are true!”

“And those two huge guys were thrown so far—what kind of technique is that? I’m definitely in the right place. I must become her last disciple!”

“So… so that’s Master Jinghai’s spirit wave? Amazing!” Qin Xiaochuan was awestruck. As a martial arts enthusiast, he had never seen such a spectacular technique. His desire to go home evaporated instantly, replaced by a burning hope to learn this skill for himself.

“…Ahem, I must be getting old. In the past, I could deal with that sort just by looking at them. My spirit wave is weakening,” Master Jinghai muttered, half to herself, half to the crowd. Then she addressed them: “As you’ve seen, size is not a measure of ability. Those of you who’ve passed are more qualified than those two. Now, follow me—I’ll take you to the second test.”

As the successful candidates followed Master Jinghai, Qin Xiaochuan suddenly remembered his other mission—to find and apprehend the demon child. The demon child must be among these people, he thought. But there are still so many left... Wait, I have the demon power meter—why didn’t I think of that?

He raised his hand to activate the device, but as he pressed the button, black smoke began to pour from the wristband. The demon child’s power must have been too much, overwhelming the meter and destroying it.

What? How could this happen?

“Hey, Xiaochuan, why is your watch smoking? Did it burn out?” Zhang Yang asked curiously, noticing the smoke billowing from Xiaochuan’s wrist.