Xiahou Ren and Yang Shao spent the next few minutes going over their strategy for a likely fight against two three-star and one nine-star cultivator. Like all effective plans, Ren’s was simple. The plan was for Shao to hold Gao Long’s attention for a few seconds while Ren swiftly incapacitated the two three-stars. Then, Ren and Shao would attack Gao Long together with all the strength they could muster. Incapacitating a nine-star disciple of the Path of the Iron Tortoise would be tough, but two seven-stars could do it. At least, that’s what Ren said.
Eventually, a loud drum echoed across the field, and every disciple present turned toward the sound without hesitation. From the side of the field opposite the large stone pagoda, a procession of Shigong disciples approached. Ten outer disciples marched on the outside of the procession, and two inner disciples walked alongside an elder on the inside of the procession. As the procession reached the large stage in the center of the Field of Ceremonies, the disciples stepped to the side of the stage as the single green-clad elder stepped to the stage’s center.
His interactions with Shen Jian notwithstanding, it seemed to Shao that Shigong elders were a big deal. Several dozen outer disciples, all powerful in their own right, turned to the elder and listened with rapt attention. The elder radiated an oppressive atmosphere that Shao knew had to be the effect of some sacred art. Like he did when looking directly at Xu Fei, Shao guarded his mind against intrusion.
Unlike with Xu Fei, however, the pressure exuded by the elder made it hard for Shao to look directly at him. Whatever the elder was doing was the exact opposite ability of the Curse of Jade.
When Shao was able to look directly at the elder with some significant difficulty, he saw that the elder was a serious-looking man with graying hair. Physically, the man appeared to be slightly older than Shen Jian, but he was probably several hundred years old in truth. According to Xiahou Ren, one had to be at least fifty years old to be an elder, yet the man standing in the center of the stage looked like he was in his mid-forties.
In a booming voice, the elder began to speak. “I am Wei Huang Minghao, but all of you will call me Elder Minghao if you know what’s good for you. Unfortunately for everyone involved, it was decided that I will oversee the Rite of Initiation this year. Now, I frankly don’t give a damn about any of you, but I’m obligated to give you all a warning before we start. The Rite of Initiation regularly has a fifty percent survival rate. For the farm boys among you who can’t do math, that means about fifty of the people standing in this field will be dead before the sun sets. This is your last chance to leave before things get dangerous.”
Fifty percent? By the Jade Emperor, what kind of school were they running? It amazed Shao just how little value cultivators put on their own lives. He always assumed that cultivators’ disregard for human life only applied to mortals, but he saw then that their callous nature applied to all people.
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Shao looked back at Xu Fei and saw her face discolor as Elder Zihan mentioned the “fifty percent survival rate.” Despite her fear, Xu Fei stood her ground and did not retreat in the face of danger.
Peering around at the field, Shao expected to see some of the participants flee. To his immense shock, he did not witness a single cultivator leave the field. Apparently, none of them thought that they would be the one to die, even though statistically half of them were wrong.
“All cultivators are psychopaths,” Shao muttered under his breath as he saw this brazen display of hubris. Though his utterance should have been too quiet for anyone to hear, Xiahou Ren gave him a look making it clear that he heard Shao’s words.
“All right, I gave you the warning. Don’t come complaining to me if you die,” Elder Minghao continued. “The basics of the Rite of Initiation are simple. All you need to do is pass through one of the two gates and enter the grounds of Shigong Temple. There are two gates: the Southern Gate, which is just a few lin west of here, and the Northern Gate, which is about twenty lin to the north.
“Though the Southern Gate is closer, it is currently guarded by my granddaughter, Wei Huang Fenhua, who happens to be an inner disciple of the Sect. You guys have no chance against her, but if you do manage to get past her through subterfuge or trickery, then you will receive an award. Anyone who passes through the Southern Gate will be allowed to take a single item of his choosing from the outer treasury. I wouldn’t recommend it, but the option’s there if you’re feeling especially foolish.
“Passing through the Northern Gate is much easier. You’ll just have to walk for about eight hours through treacherous, yaoguai-infested mountain terrain and then ascend the thousand-step staircase to reach it. The local yaoguai aren’t allowed to eat disciples, so they view the Rite of Initiation as a chance to gorge themselves upon human flesh. Don’t worry, though, they eat the weak first.”
By the end, Elder Minghao was delivering his speech like a camper telling a scary story around a campfire. One of the inner disciples standing near him made a gesture, and the elder quickly cleared his throat to finish his explanation.
“Anyway, if you pass through the Northern Gate before nightfall, you won’t get a treasure, but you’ll still become an outer disciple. And, one last thing. All of you will be given a healing pill before you start. Everyone gets one. If any disciple sees you take more than one, they’ll kill you, got it? All right, go.”
With that strangely abrupt ending, Elder Minghao began to walk off the stage. He immediately began to walk toward the pagoda on the southern side of the field, and the participants gave him a wide berth. Once the man had disappeared into the stone pagoda, the cultivators present began to frantically head north of the Field of Ceremonies and toward the temple.