In the alley behind a tavern in North City, an independent cultivator preparing to leave the city overnight had just climbed onto the wall when a claw covered in fine, dark-red scales dragged him down.
Second Brother could not even be bothered to spare him another glance. One slap shattered the Celestial Crown of his skull.
Beside a well in South City, two furtive men in black were preparing to pour powdered poison into the water. Before they could open their packets, Yang Mie's Blood-Qi Spear had already pierced their chests.
No interrogation. No wasted words.
Overnight, hundreds of covert agents on the list were uprooted. Their bodies were packed into Storage Bags, without so much as a drop of blood left on the Bluestone Slab.
The next morning, the sun rose as usual.
The Mortals were still beside themselves over Kindling Number One Academy, as though a hundred claws were scratching at their hearts.
There were too many applicants. The long queue stretched across more than a dozen streets, lasting from dawn until dark.
Although Zhou Xuan had greatly relaxed the admission requirements, disregarding both Spirit Roots and meridians, the vast majority were still mercilessly eliminated when they reached the test.
The test was simple: place a hand against the thirty-foot-tall Resonance Stele at the academy gate.
If the stele lit up, they could enter. If it did not, they had to leave.
A potbellied wealthy merchant rubbed his hands together, then pressed one against it, brimming with anticipation.
His face turned crimson with exertion. He mustered every ounce of strength he had, but the stele showed no response.
"Next." The Yang Clan disciple handling registration remained expressionless.
The merchant panicked. He pulled a large handful of banknotes from his robes and tried to stuff them into the disciple's