Detection

As time passed.

The line, which had originally stretched so far that its end was nowhere in sight, had dwindled to a clearly countable number. More and more boys were passing the test, and fifteen of them had now qualified.

Cheng Buzheng roughly estimated the time. It would be over in another hour, by which time the sun would be setting.

The test had started in the morning and would end at sunset—a full six shichen.

Suddenly.

A strange sound rang out among the boys who had passed the test.

"Gurgle..."

The burly boy, who had endured his hunger for a long time, wore an embarrassed expression. He hadn't said a word, but his stomach had betrayed him, making it clear that it needed food.

At the sound.

The boys standing beside the immortal glanced at one another. In an instant, they seemed to have reached some kind of unspoken agreement.

"Gurgle..."

"Gurgle..."

"Gurgle..."

Cheng Buzheng's stomach voiced its own opinion, too. As if sharing a tacit understanding, they all looked toward the immortal.

At once.

The strange sounds rang out like a symphony.

Hearing them, the young immortal was momentarily taken aback. Then, as if realizing something, he smiled faintly and said,

"I forgot you're still mortals. You need to eat every day. These are Bigu Pills—one for each of you. They'll keep you from needing food for a month!"

As he spoke, he brushed a hand over the small pouch at his waist and took out a long-necked porcelain bottle. He poured fifteen Spirit Pills into his palm, then flicked his hand.

The fifteen Spirit Pills hovered in front of each boy as if they had eyes, not one more or less than each person needed.

"We thank you, immortal!"

The young immortal waved his hand.

"No need for that. From now on, we'll all be fellow disciples, and you'll be my junior brothers. Just call me 'Senior Brother Huang'!

'Immortal' is what mortals call us. We are cultivators whose goal is to become immortals.

Take a rest. I still have to continue the testing!"

"Thank you... Senior Brother Huang!"

The boys eagerly snatched up the Spirit Pills floating in front of them and swallowed them.

Cheng Buzheng quelled his curiosity and took hold of the Spirit Pill hovering before him. This was the first time he had ever seen one. He didn't rush to swallow it, instead examining it closely.

He knew this Spirit Pill must be among the lowest grade, but it was still something no mortal could possess.

The pill was unremarkable in appearance, its surface a dark, inky black, with a faint glow shimmering over it. Even that was enough to show how wondrous an immortal's methods were.

Just then, his stomach protested again.

"Gurgle..."

Cheng Buzheng didn't delay any longer. He swallowed the first Spirit Pill he had ever obtained. The Bigu Pill melted in his mouth, flowing down like a warm stream and soothing his entire stomach.

In an instant, every trace of hunger vanished.

The cultivators' pills were truly wondrous, with extraordinary effects.

The sun sank in the west. In the blink of an eye, more than half a shichen had passed, and only four scattered lines of boys remained in the plaza. Every so often, a few hurried in from outside at a trot.

The testing was quick. After two ke, not another boy entered the plaza.

At that moment, the old man in black robes, who had been sitting cross-legged in the center and hadn't uttered a word from beginning to end, opened his eyes and surveyed the boys who had passed.

The old man appeared otherworldly, but the instant his gaze fell on Cheng Buzheng, his hair stood on end. It felt as if a primordial beast had fixed its eyes on him. If he hadn't known the old man was one of their own, he reckoned he would have run as far away as he could.

When the Black Robe Elder's gaze moved away, Cheng Buzheng couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Is this what a cultivator is like? I can barely withstand just one look!

The Black Robe Elder rasped, "How many did we recruit this time?"

"Reporting to you, Uncle Ding, Ping'an County has recruited fourteen Four Spiritual Roots and two Three Spiritual Roots, for a total of sixteen," Senior Brother Huang replied respectfully.

"Not bad. Recruiting this many promising seedlings this year has already exceeded my expectations. In the past, we only found three to five. What a pity there isn't a single Double Spiritual Roots!"

Uncle Ding looked at the boys with a regretful expression.

"You have one shichen to return home and bid farewell to your families. After that, we'll set off immediately. Those who have no one to bid farewell to should wait here!"

As soon as he finished speaking.

A refined-looking boy respectfully bowed and said,

"Martial Uncle, I'd like to go out and say goodbye to my parents."

Uncle Ding glanced at him indifferently.

"It's too early to call me Martial Uncle. Wait until you've officially joined the sect."

The refined boy froze at his words, then immediately understood and said,

"Yes, Senior. I'll take my leave."

Uncle Ding closed his eyes again and paid no further attention to the boys who had just passed the test.

Before long, the seventeen boys had gradually begun to leave. Before departing, each respectfully bowed to Uncle Ding, who sat cross-legged on the ground with his eyes closed, and only then did they go.

Cheng Buzheng didn't leave. What if something unexpected happened at that very moment? Wouldn't he lose a heaven-sent opportunity? Besides, his family wasn't nearby, and the clothes he'd left at the inn were worthless. He'd have to abandon the paints he'd made from medicinal herbs, which would be a pity.

But that wasn't enough to make him leave at this critical moment to retrieve the three porcelain bottles of paint.

He believed the immortals had enough authority to deter those powerful families from acting rashly. Though an accident was unlikely, it was still better to be cautious.

As Cheng Buzheng silently regretted leaving behind those bottles of paint, he noticed that only one boy, dressed in coarse hemp clothes, had stayed behind like him.

The boy was fairly sturdy, with a somewhat honest-looking face. He had Four Spiritual Roots. Were his family simply not in the county, or was he cautious by nature?

There were only two boys with Three Spiritual Roots: Cheng Buzheng and the refined boy who had spoken first.

He knew the saying that rare things were precious. Three Spiritual Roots should be better than Four Spiritual Roots.

The spiritual-root aptitude was exactly the same as the setting in the hit webnovel from his previous life, A Record of a Mortal's Journey to Immortality. He just didn't know what would be different later on.

A jumble of thoughts kept flashing through his mind.

More than half a shichen later, all the boys gradually returned to the plaza. They didn't dare wait until the very last moment to come back.

These newcomers, who had only just joined the sect, couldn't afford to incur a Martial Uncle's wrath.

At the moment all the boys had arrived, Uncle Ding, who had been sitting cross-legged with his eyes closed, suddenly opened his eyes. A glint flashed through them.

Uncle Ding rose to his feet and looked at the boys, his face expressionless. "Now that everyone's here, let's set off!"

As soon as he finished speaking.

Uncle Ding brushed a hand over the small pouch at his waist, and a palm-sized jade boat appeared in his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the boat swelled in the wind.

In the blink of an eye, a gigantic jade boat more than a hundred zhang long hovered silently above the plaza.