Chapter 5: Breaking the Rule

At the same time, within the Heavenly Origin Kingdom, inside a grand hall of the Tianheng Sect.

Five figures sat in a circle around a stone table.

Their expressions were solemn or detached, each one a cultivator at the Soul Formation stage or above.

Sect Master Yan Yunfei sat at the center.

He swept his gaze across them and spoke in a calm, steady voice:

“Disciple recruitment is one month away. This time, the sect will make an exception and open thirty percent of the quotas—regardless of background, only talent will matter. I have already notified the Heavenly Origin Kingdom. Many scions of noble families will be coming. If there are no objections, we will proceed as such.”

The others nodded, offering a few words.

On the left sat Dugu Nishuang.

Today she wore a plain robe, her silver hair cascading like a waterfall, her expression tranquil.

She did not speak.

Not because she was pondering sect affairs, but because she… could not pull herself out of their words.

These words—she had heard them before.

No.

Not merely heard.

She had lived with them.

From the announcement of the open quotas, to the sect master’s exact line—“Many scions of noble families will be coming”—not a word differed.

What shook her even more was the man seated to the right: Li Yao, Peak Master of Lingxiao Peak.

He turned toward her with a smile and said, “Peak Master Dugu, why don’t you choose this disciple first? After all, your Jingyu Peak has been empty for far too long.”

The smile, the tone, even the slight upward tilt of his eyes—everything was identical.

She remembered it vividly.

The last time, he had said this very line.

She had sat there just like now, silently nodding her head.

But that was… ten years ago.

Dugu Nishuang’s fingers trembled slightly, tightening inside her sleeve.

She lifted her gaze, scanning the hall.

Everything was precise, just as she remembered.

The sect master’s expression.

The Silent Peak Master of Danfu Peak.

Li Yao’s teasing.

And the distant Peak Master of Guan Xing Peak, absentmindedly fiddling with an ancient artifact.

“Have I… been reborn?”

Her whisper trembled, thoughts swirling without rest.

Li Yao noticed her dazed look, one brow arching. “Have you cultivated yourself stupid lately? You’ve sat this whole time without saying a word, like your soul’s flown off.”

Dugu Nishuang gave no reply, her expression calm.

But his next words cracked that calm apart:

“If you keep being this cold, soon your entire Jingyu Peak will be nothing but frost.

How about this—why don’t you take on a disciple at this?

Having someone to care for… feels very different.”

Those words—‘having someone to care for’—struck the most fragile chord deep within her heart.

She closed her eyes lightly, trying to press the memory down. But it would not be pressed.

In her mind rose once more the day after the disciple—

The sky had just cleared after rain, the stone steps still slick and wet.

A boy stood there, his clothes half-soaked, back straight, eyes stubborn.

He stood in the wind, rain still streaking down his face.

“I wish to take you as my master.”

She remembered herself standing on the steps, replying lightly: “Your aptitude is beneath my notice.”

It had been the truth. The boy’s spiritual root was impure, his qi weak—utterly ordinary among the thousands applying.

By reason, she had no reason to accept him.

Yet he did not leave.

Day after day, he appeared on time, standing before the mountain gate, motionless, wordless, without complaint.

Wind, sun, rain—
He simply stood there, until deep impressions formed in the stone beneath his feet.

She hadn’t intended to care. But each dawn, as she ascended the mountain, her eyes would meet that silent figure.

Gradually, she grew accustomed to it— Accustomed to his presence where her gaze fell.

Until one day, the boy collapsed.

She went to him instinctively, lowering her eyes.

His face was pale, lips cracked, breath shallow.

Just as she thought he had fainted, his eyes opened.

No fear filled them—only resolve.

“I wish to take you as my master.”

His voice was faint, as if life were about to slip away— Yet he still insisted on finishing that line.

She had been silent a long time, before finally nodding.

“Come with me.”

That was the first time she broke her own rule.

The first time she accepted a disciple.

Though she hated to admit it, her heart had stirred, just slightly.

Thus, Luo Jiutian became her first disciple on Jingyu Peak.

And her only one…

She had refused him at first.

She had never believed obsession could change fate.

But in the end, it was she herself who had pushed him into that path of no return.

He had always stood before her.

Yet she had never truly seen him.

Why… Did it end that way?

Dugu Nishuang opened her eyes.

The sound of discussion in the hall still filled her ears.

Her hand clenched, knuckles whitening, as she forced her turbulent emotions down.

Her voice was low, steady: “This year… I will take a disciple.”

The hall fell abruptly silent.

All were stunned.

Even Li Yao raised his head in surprise.

“You?” He arched his brow. “Are you serious?”

She did not answer.

Her eyes simply lowered, falling upon the participation list before here, where a familiar name was written:

【Luo Jiutian】

The scene shifted to the depths of the Luo estate.

Inside an elegantly furnished chamber, a young man stood before a bronze mirror, adjusting his robes.

His movements were a touch stiff, but every detail was done with meticulous care.

The mirror reflected sharp features, a solemn yet confident expression, and eyes burning with ambition.

This was the main figure of tonight’s recognition banquet—Luo Chen.

Finishing, he straightened, squared his shoulders, and after one last check, pushed the door open.

Down the stone steps outside, Luo Changqing had been waiting.

Wearing the formal robes of the family head, his face stern, his gaze softened with satisfaction as Luo Chen approached.

Luo Chen stepped forward, calling softly, “Father.”

Luo Changqing nodded, his eyes sweeping his son up and down, pride seeping into his tone: “As expected of my son. That bearing alone will outshine the heirs of any noble house.”

His voice paused, then grew heavier: “Tonight, the other three clans will be present. Though the banquet is mere formality, its meaning for you is great. You are the future of the Luo family. You must perform well.”

Luo Chen inclined his head. “I understand, Father.”

He knew. That phrase—‘the future of the Luo family’—was not mere praise.

It was also a reminder.

A reminder not to forget— That once, the Luo family had another so-called young master: Luo Jiutian.

Contempt flickered through Luo Chen’s heart.

That one?

Pampered since birth, drowning in resources, yet after over ten years of cultivation barely reached the early Foundation stage.

And such trash was fit to contend with him?

Luo Changqing caught the look, shaking his head faintly, though he said nothing.

He stepped closer, his voice steady: “Your talent is indeed rare, the ‘Star-Plucking Divine Body’ seen once in a thousand years.
But do not underestimate Luo Jiutian. He may not fight for it, but that does not mean he cannot. You take him too lightly.”

Luo Chen’s eyes flickered.

He did not answer.

After a pause, he nodded.

“Rest assured, Father. I know my limits.”

He understood the meaning behind his father’s words.

They were meant to temper his edge, to keep him from drawing calamity with arrogance.

But this was not arrogance.

It was a certainty.

The ‘Star-Plucking Divine Body’ was rare indeed.

He could draw in the power of the stars each night, his cultivation soaring, far beyond his peers.

Already, he had stepped solidly into the mid Foundation stage, the late stage but a matter of time.

In the future, the gap between him and Luo Jiutian would only widen.

Luo Chen did not believe he could lose.

Facing Luo Jiutian, there was only one outcome.

Victory.