Chapter 81

Not long after, ten young, elegant cultivators had arrived, including Liu Xiaolou; it seemed all the banquet guests were present, when an elderly man with a beautiful beard emerged from behind the hall—he was quite aged, seemingly fifty or sixty, yet still strikingly handsome, commanding admiration.

The young cultivators in the hall all bowed deeply in unison, chanting: “Greetings, Master Zheng!”

Liu Xiaolou followed suit, his lips moving silently as he wondered: Could this be the patriarch of the Zheng family?

Master Zheng smiled: “It’s rare to see so many of you. All of you are rising talents from around Luoshan, a gathering of the finest youth—Luoshan is honored, and I am overjoyed. Tonight’s banquet shall truly be a feast.”

In just a few words, Liu Xiaolou felt warmth settle deep in his heart; suddenly, he was among the “rising talents,” one of the “finest youth,” and he was delighted. He bowed humbly with the other young cultivators, repeatedly saying, “We dare not.”

Master Zheng took his seat at the head and nodded to the steward beside him: “Begin.”

The steward stepped forward and announced loudly: “Let the esteemed youths determine your seating order!”

As the name implied, “determining seating” meant establishing rank. Liu Xiaolou perked up, thinking: The contest has begun—but how exactly will it be done?

One stepped forward and bowed: “This junior has reached Qi Refining seventh level!”

Another said: “This junior is sixth level!”

Another added: “This junior is also sixth level!”

“This junior is fifth level!”

“This junior is seventh level!”

“This junior is fourth level…”

“This junior is third level… ashamed…”

“This junior is second level…”

Amidst the chatter, each revealed their cultivation level.

The one who claimed shame was not Liu Xiaolou. Though he, too, was at third level, ranking near the back among the young cultivators, he felt no shame—only surprise. He was glad he wasn’t last; having another third-level cultivator beside him was already rare, and even rarer was someone lower—a second-level!

A mere Qi Refining second level dares to apply for a steward position—and doesn’t even say “ashamed”? How bold are you?

Liu Xiaolou glanced casually at the second-level cultivator, his eyes filled with contempt—his appearance was decent, but he was nothing but a silk-covered pillow!

After everyone had reported their levels, the steward said: “Please arrange yourselves according to cultivation level—higher levels ahead, lower levels behind!”

The young cultivators lined up accordingly: two seventh-levels stood at the front, followed by two sixth-levels—the White Cloud Swordsman and the Green Robe Scholar—then two fifth-levels, one fourth-level, then two third-levels including Liu Xiaolou, and finally the one who had claimed second level.

Liu Xiaolou glanced at the third-level cultivator beside him, thinking: I’m slightly higher in cultivation—I’m just one acupoint away from completing third level, after all.

The man turned to look at him and said: “I’m Yuan Ziqi of Yuanjiawan. What is your name, brother?”

Liu Xiaolou replied: “I’m Liu Xiaolou of Sanxuan Sect.”

Yuan Ziqi blinked—he clearly had no impression of Sanxuan Sect—and bowed slightly: “Pleasure to meet you.”

Liu Xiaolou knew nothing of Yuanjiawan either; he smiled and nodded.

Suddenly, the steward pointed at one of them: “Young Master Zhang, I heard last month you failed to break through. In barely half a month, have you already succeeded?”

Young Master Zhang’s face turned red: “This junior did not fully break through—only barely missed it; I can barely count myself as fifth level.”

The steward shook his head: “Your level is your level—no room for deception. Please return.”

Young Master Zhang looked toward Master Zheng and stammered: “Uncle Zheng…”

Master Zheng sighed: “Return to your mountain, nephew. I will apologize to your father later.”

The young man who had falsely claimed his level left, dazed and defeated.

Liu Xiaolou was speechless. If you’re applying for a steward position, your cultivation level will be tested soon enough—how could you fake it? He was glad to lose a competitor, yet puzzled: “If this Zhang is a family friend of the Zhengs, why is he here applying for a steward role—and why does he care so much?”

The steward continued: “Esteemed youths, some of you I recognize, others I do not. Please state your family lineage.”

The young cultivators began announcing their origins:

“This junior is from Yunxi Baiyun Mountain Villa—my father is Yun Conglong!”

“This junior is a disciple of Huangti Palace—my master is Chongyang Recluse.”

“This junior is from Sanhuang Sect—my father is Elder Peng Qingyun of Sanhuang Sect.”

“This junior is from Jiepai Chen Clan…”

When it came to Liu Xiaolou, he declared: “This junior is of Sanxuan Sect… Sect Master!”

Everyone stared in surprise. Liu Xiaolou instantly became the center of attention—even Master Zheng turned his gaze toward him.

The steward couldn’t help asking: “Esteemed youth, may I ask—what is Sanxuan Sect?”

He couldn’t dodge this. If he succeeded in the application, they’d surely investigate later. So Liu Xiaolou answered honestly: “Sanxuan Sect… is a sect on Wulong Mountain.”

The steward pressed: “Wulong Mountain… is that the Wulong Mountain in Xiangxi?”

“Yes.”

Upon hearing “yes,” the young cultivators shook their heads, and faint snickers arose.

The steward ignored Liu Xiaolou and turned to the last-row, Qi Refining second-level youth, who simply replied: “This junior is from Shuanglong Town, Ding Clan.”

Yet the steward’s expression turned solemn with respect: “Esteemed guest, please step forward three places.”

The young Ding cultivator smiled and stepped forward, passing Liu Xiaolou and Yuan Ziqi, taking his place among the sixth-level cultivators.

The steward added: “Please, the Sanhuang Sect guest, step forward two places. The Baiyun Mountain Villa and Huangti Palace guests, each step forward one place.”

After the lineup was rearranged, the steward paused and looked at Liu Xiaolou and Yuan Ziqi standing side by side: “Esteemed Sanxuan Sect guest, please step back one place.”

Family lineage was Liu Xiaolou’s weakest point—he couldn’t compete with anyone. He accepted his fate and stepped to the rear.

The steward spoke again: “Please state the divine art you cultivate!”

“This junior cultivates the Six Desolate Ultimate Art!”

“This junior cultivates the Sanhuang Marvelous Method!”

“This junior practices the Baiyun Sword Art!”

“This junior studies…”

“This junior…”

When it came to Liu Xiaolou, he had already decided: he would name two arts. “This junior cultivates Sanxuan Art and Qianji Scripture!” Sanxuan Art needed no explanation; Qianji Scripture was merely a catalog of array materials—not a divine art—but the more skills one had, the better. Extra was extra.

The steward conferred briefly with Master Zheng, adjusted a few positions, but Liu Xiaolou remained where he was—clearly, neither Sanxuan Art nor Qianji Scripture had impressed Master Zheng.

Suddenly, the steward asked: “Esteemed youths, has anyone studied dual-cultivation arts?”

The young cultivators exchanged glances, some stared straight ahead, others blushed and lowered their heads. The hall fell silent. No one answered.

Only Liu Xiaolou’s heart stirred. Though he didn’t know how dual-cultivation arts related to the steward recruitment, he raised his hand: “This junior’s Sanxuan Art includes a divine method called the Yin-Yang Scripture—it is a dual-cultivation art.”

At this moment, he had no choice but to fight.

Though met with a wave of disdain, the effect was immediate—the steward announced: “Please, the Sanxuan Sect youth, step forward three places!”

Liu Xiaolou beamed as he moved to the sixth position, when Master Zheng stroked his beard and smiled: “Good. Knowing dual-cultivation arts is excellent—may you produce heirs soon.”

Liu Xiaolou was stunned.