Chapter 4: Accepting The Beauty

The silence over the Grand Cloud Plaza lasted only as long as it took for the elders’ brains to reboot.

"Lu Chen! Have you gone completely senile?!"

Elder Zhao was the first to vault off his throne, landing heavily on the white jade with a dull, booming thud. The broad spirit blade on his back rattled against its scabbard as his face contorted in disgust.

"The Grand Entrance Trial has governed our sect for ten thousand years! We harvest divine roots, heaven-blessed talents, and the future pillars of the immortal path! And you, the master of a sacred peak, are descending to adopt a crippled, meridian-blocked mortal beggar who couldn’t light up a firefly root if her life depended on it?!"

A ripple of mocking snickers broke out among the outer disciples and several elders.

High up on the golden throne, Su Wan’er didn’t laugh. Her almond eyes narrowed, frost-tinted eyelashes fluttering as she leaned forward, staring intently down at me.

There was bewilderment in her gaze, but beneath it lay a sharp, suspicious curiosity. She knew I was lazy, she knew I loved comfort more than life itself. For me to personally intercede for an untalented mortal was entirely out of character.

I didn’t give Zhao Cang the dignity of turning my head. My hand remained outstretched toward Shen Qingxue, steady and bathed in a warm glow of spiritual energy.

Shen Qingxue’s breath hitched.

Her filthy fingers hovered an inch above the cold jade floor, trembling. In her dark eyes, cold malice flickered, clashing with utter bewilderment.

My system quickly gave me a few more details.

She was a commander’s daughter whose entire world had burned down in a single night and she had spent months running through mud, enduring hardship, and surviving on raw rainwater while watching the mortal realm bow to corrupt scoundrels. She knew the immortal sects were even colder, discarding anyone without ’divine roots’ like worthless rubbish.

She had prepared herself to be beaten to death on these steps. However, she had never prepared for someone in pristine robes to kneel down in the dirt and offer her a hand.

"Why?" she croaked. Her voice was raw and ruined by thirst, but beneath the rasp was an unbending iron will. "The stone showed nothing. I have no talent. I am... trash."

"The stone measures the mud of the body, not the gold of the soul," I replied, my tone so profound, detached, and saintly that I almost choked on my own righteousness. Damn it.

Inside, my thoughts were running wild, ’Take the hand, little protagonist! Touch the hand so the system registers you and I can start printing divine artifacts!’

Outwardly, my smile remained as gentle as an autumn breeze. "I see a heart forged in hell, yet reaching for the heavens. That is talent enough for Lonely Cloud Peak. Now... do you take my hand, or do you let these blind fools kick you back into the mortal dirt?"

Shen Qingxue’s jaw tightened until a thin line of fresh blood trickled down her split lip. She looked at my spotless white sleeve, then at her own blackened palm.

With a fierce, defiant shudder, she reached up and slammed her hand into mine. Her grip was shockingly tight, like the bite of a wounded young wolf.

DING!

A glorious chime rang directly in my soul.

[Target Shen Qingxue has accepted the Host’s recruitment invitation!]

[Affection Update: +15 (Stunned Bewilderment & Grudging Hope)!]

[Current Affection: 15/100 (Nascent Trust)]

[Host has officially bound his First Protagonist Disciple!]

[Current Investment Multiplier: 2.5x (Scales with Affection)]

[First-Time Investment Special activated: The first genuine gift bestowed upon Target Shen Qingxue will trigger an absolute 10x Critical Evolution, regardless of current affection tier.]

I nearly burst out laughing. The urge to slap Elder Zhao across the face out of pure joy was overwhelming, but I clamped down on my facial muscles, maintaining the serene, untouchable expression of an immortal master who had just performed an act of divine charity.

"Absurd! Utterly ridiculous!" Zhao Cang bellowed, stomping toward us, his robe sleeves billowing aggressively. "Lu Chen, you took this peasant just to fill your quota and hoard your peak’s spirit vein. She has no spirit roots! You are dragging the dignity of the Mystic Cloud Sect into the sewer."

"Enough, Elder Zhao." A cold, crisp voice sliced through the tension like a glacial blade.

Su Wan’er rose from her central throne, floating downward with effortless grace, her azure-and-white robes rustling like flowing rivers.

The overwhelming spiritual pressure of the Nascent Soul realm descended, pressing down on Zhao Cang’s shoulders until the man had to grit his teeth and take half a step back.

Wan’er landed between us, her phoenix eyes sweeping across Qingxue with pity before settling on Lu Chen.

"The rules of the sect dictate that any Peak Master has the right to select candidates of their choosing during the entrance trial without interference," she announced. "Lonely Cloud Peak has made its choice. The matter is settled."

Zhao’s face turned purple, and he could only flick his sleeve. "Fine! Let him play house with a mortal cripple! When the Peak Assessment Tournament arrives next year, if Lonely Cloud Peak places last again, not even you will be able to stop the Council from stripping his mountain!"

With that parting threat, Zhao Cang turned on his heel and stormed back toward the high platform.

Once Zhao was out of earshot, Wan’er dropped her stern Sect Master facade and leaned in. "Are you insane? A clogged waste root? Out of three thousand youths, you chose a mortal who probably won’t even survive the mountain frost! If you wanted to spite the elders, you didn’t have to ruin Lonely Cloud Peak’s legacy."

Lu Chen gave her a roguish wink. "Senior Sister, have some faith in your handsome Junior Brother. The immortal path is about discovering jade beneath stone. Besides, didn’t I promise you I’d bring a disciple home? A promise to a beauty is worth more than ten thousand spirit stones."