Within the countless immortal sects, two options stood above the rest — the Heavenly Dao Sect and the Immortal Sword Sect. Both possessed supreme heritage, deep foundations, and unrivaled reputations across the immortal world.
After some thought, he decisively chose the Heavenly Dao Sect. The Immortal Sword Sect was undoubtedly powerful, but their disciples all had swords for brains. They were battle maniacs who challenged anyone they laid eyes on, treating every encounter as a chance to sharpen their blades. Joining that sect meant constant trouble, and trouble was the last thing he needed right now.
As for his position within the sect, there was no need to fight for the attention-seeking role of Direct Disciple, nor did he want to sink too low as an Outer Sect Disciple burdened with menial chores. After careful thought, the rank of Inner Disciple was perfect — high enough to avoid regular tasks, yet low enough to stay beneath the direct gaze of the sect's top powerhouses.
Besides, resources meant nothing to him. Ordinary disciples relied heavily on sect resources to cultivate, but he cultivated Chaos Energy directly. His comprehension of Laws far surpassed the need for external guidance. In ten years, the investments he planted before ascending would also begin to bear fruit — a thought that brought a faint, dark smirk to his lips.
Before heading to the selection hall, he adjusted his appearance. His facial structure shifted subtly, his height increased slightly, and his youthful features settled into something completely average — neither handsome nor ugly. It was the perfect disguise to avoid attracting unwanted attention from female disciples or sparking pointless jealousy from male disciples.
Arriving at the majestic sect gate, he took a deep breath and stepped forward. Before the guards scanned him, he silently concealed his bone age, adjusting it to exactly 220 years — just enough to qualify as a rare genius, but not enough to provoke interest from the sect's elders or hidden monsters.
At the same time, he carefully hid his true talents, displaying only a suitable, well-rounded aptitude — strong enough to enter as an inner disciple, but not dazzling enough to draw dangerous attention.
With his disguise complete, he passed through the towering gate and entered the legendary Heavenly Dao Sect — his new temporary home in this immortal world.
Inside the sect, the verification process was surprisingly simple. The guards only checked for traces of demonic qi — nothing else. This was completely normal after ascending from the lower worlds into the Heavenly Dao Sect. In the sect's eyes, everyone came from different places, and background didn't matter unless you were tainted by Devil Dao cultivation.
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The guards themselves were Tribulation Transcendence Realm cultivators, working as gatekeepers to earn contribution points. They were outer sect disciples, and outer disciples were everywhere — like mosquitoes buzzing around the sect grounds.
Once inside, he didn't waste time. He already knew exactly where to go — to the elder responsible for welcoming and registering new disciples.
The registration elder was an old man with a casual, indifferent air. With a single glance, the elder examined his bone age, talent, and cultivation. Everything about him appeared above average — enough to qualify for inner sect disciple status without standing out.
The elder smiled faintly and handed him a sect token, accommodation slip, uniform, and a basic cultivation technique suitable for inner disciples. He briefly explained the sect's system — resources could be obtained through contribution points, earned by taking on missions within or outside the sect.
He listened silently, but none of it mattered. Resources? Techniques? Missions? None of them were of any use to him. His own cultivation method and resources far surpassed anything the sect could offer.
With the formalities complete, he went straight to his assigned courtyard. The accommodation was surprisingly spacious and well-furnished, a small house to himself. Sitting down, he finally allowed his excitement to settle.
Peeking outside, he saw only outer sect disciples running around, handling daily chores and errands. Inner disciples, core disciples, and true disciples rarely appeared unless a major competition, important mission, or sect emergency occurred.
"Perfect," he thought. This was the ideal environment — quiet, low pressure, and easy to blend into.
Out of habit, he casually scanned the minds of passing disciples. To his mild surprise, there wasn't a single trace of demonic spies or hidden corruption. It felt as if the entire sect — even the whole immortal world — was some kind of peaceful utopia.
But he knew better.
This peace was only the surface.
As peace settled in, he no longer sent his clones wandering around the sect. This place wasn't like the lower worlds — here, true powerhouses were everywhere. Right now, he was just stepping onto the starting line of this cultivation race. There was no need to draw unnecessary attention.
With nothing to disturb him, time passed like drifting clouds.
Ten years later.
In this quiet life, without battles or bloodshed, he gradually harmonized with nature, blending into the gentle flow of immortal energy around him. Days passed without conflict, without killing — his hands remained clean, his heart serene.
At times, even he was surprised by his own benevolence, as if he had truly become some kind of living Buddha, radiating compassion and mercy.
But just as he was enjoying his peaceful days, his system window suddenly flickered.
His Devouring Points were rising at an insane speed, faster than ever before.
He paused briefly, then it hit him — the investment he made ten years ago had finally matured, and now, the full wave of returns had arrived all at once.
He raised his lips into a cold smirk.