Shen Yuan stood beside Bai Chen, eyes cold and unfazed. He cast one final glance at Lei Tianfeng’s broken form before allowing himself a brief, silent breath. The arena, once buzzing with tense whispers and suppressed gasps, had fallen into a deathly silence. The disciples who had witnessed Lei Tianfeng’s downfall dared not even breathe too loudly, afraid they might disturb the quiet rage still lingering in Shen Yuan’s gaze.

Beside him, Bai Chen remained silent, his face a mixture of awe and respect. He knew his friend was powerful, but today, Shen Yuan had shown a ruthlessness that few could ever match. There was nothing to say; even congratulations felt insufficient for what he had just achieved.

At the centre of the stage, Judge Lao Zhuo finally stepped forward, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

“The disciple selection trial has reached its conclusion,” he announced, his tone as grave as ever, yet laced with a hint of reverence. “The remaining contestants have proven their mettle and worth.” He raised his gaze toward the founder of the Gui Clan, Gui Zuwang, who stood in the shadow of the balcony above sitting on his throne while sipping his tea, observing the arena with piercing eyes. The power he exuded was palpable, a silent storm waiting to erupt.

Gui Zuwang gave a subtle nod, signalling for Lao Zhuo to continue.

The judge held out a scroll, a faint glow surrounding it as it began to unfurl. “With the conclusion of these trials,” Lao Zhuo intoned, “I will now tally the final results of the selection.”

The tension in the crowd thickened, every disciple bracing themselves as Lao Zhuo glanced at the scroll. One by one, he began to announce the ranks.

“In tenth place, Xiao Rong,” Lao Zhuo’s voice echoed.

A thin disciple in the back of the group nodded stiffly, relief and pride flickering on his face. The process continued with Lao Zhuo reading each name in sequence, with each ranked disciple stepping forward to acknowledge their place.

By the time the third rank was called, the disciples who hadn’t heard their names began to grow tense, glancing at each other with suspicion and fear. The final two names remained, and everyone’s attention gravitated towards the two young men who had taken the spotlight since the start of the trials: Bai Chen and Shen Yuan.

Lao Zhuo’s voice grew softer yet sharper, his gaze narrowing on the final names.

“Second place, Bai Chen.”

Bai Chen nodded, stepping forward with his head held high. Despite the gravity of his rank, he cast a quick look toward Shen Yuan, an acknowledgment of the power that surpassed his own.

“And in first place…” Lao Zhuo’s voice dropped, only to echo across the arena like a clarion call. “Shen Yuan!”

Gasps rippled through the crowd, and a few disciples exchanged wary glances. They had known, deep down, that Shen Yuan’s dominance was absolute. But hearing it confirmed left a chill in their veins.

Shen Yuan remained still, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked at the judge with his usual calm intensity.

“The first-ranked disciple, Shen Yuan,” Lao Zhuo continued, “has earned the right to choose among the four great factions of the Gui Clan.”

At these words, a stir rippled through the arena, disciples murmuring with renewed interest. Every eye turned toward the four faction leaders, each standing in their respective positions, their expressions sharp and watchful.

The four factions—the Hellfire Temple, the Bloodfiend Hall, the Nether-Shadow Pavilion, and the Boneforge Hall—were pillars of the Gui Clan, each one representing a unique path of cultivation. Each one held immense influence, yet every faction had a distinct identity, and choosing one was no trivial matter.

The first to step forward was the master of Bloodfiend Hall, a tall, wiry man with pale skin and an unsettling smile. His eyes lingered on Shen Yuan, an odd mix of intrigue and hunger flickering within them. Next, the master of Nether-Shadow Pavilion, draped in dark robes, nodded subtly. He was known for his ruthless training methods and a silent but deadly approach to cultivation.

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The Boneforge Hall master, a grim man with an aura of unbreakable resilience, observed Shen Yuan with cool calculation. And lastly, standing at a slight distance, cloaked in fiery red robes, was the master of Hellfire Temple—a woman with an aura as fierce as flame, her eyes burning with an intense, unyielding power.

“Shen Yuan,” Lao Zhuo spoke, gesturing toward the faction leaders. “You may make your choice.”

A heavy silence fell, and every disciple leaned forward, straining to hear his decision.

Shen Yuan didn’t hesitate. His eyes, sharp and unwavering, fixed on the master of Hellfire Temple.

“I choose Hellfire Temple,” he said, his voice cool and calm, yet resonant, like the strike of a war drum.

A wave of shock rippled through the crowd, gasps and whispers filling the air as disciples and even a few elders exchanged surprised looks. The Hellfire Temple, known for its intense cultivation of fire and yang energy, seemed a strange choice for a cultivator like Shen Yuan, who specialized in yin techniques. Even the other faction leaders raised their brows, surprised by his decision.

The master of Hellfire Temple, her expression composed, stepped forward, studying Shen Yuan with an appraising gaze. “Your path in cultivation has followed a yin nature, Shen Yuan,” she spoke, her voice resonant and firm. “Why choose a faction that delves into the arts of fire and yang?”

Shen Yuan met her gaze, his expression steady. “Harmony brings strength,” he replied simply, his words carrying a weight that silenced the crowd once more. “For yin to reach its peak, it must understand yang. For strength to rise, it must be tempered by contrast.”

A flicker of approval passed over the master’s face, her lips curving into a slight smile. “A simple answer, yet one with wisdom beyond your years,” she murmured. She then raised her voice, her tone clear and authoritative. “Then, I officially welcome Shen Yuan as the newest disciple of Hellfire Temple.”

A murmur spread through the crowd, the realization setting in. Shen Yuan, despite his yin-oriented cultivation, had chosen to tread the path of fire. It was a choice few understood, but one that spoke of an ambition to embrace not only his natural talents but the opposing forces as well.

The other faction leaders exchanged glances, their expressions a mixture of disappointment and curiosity. Each of them knew that Shen Yuan’s potential was beyond the ordinary, and they had hoped to claim him for themselves. But it was clear that the young man’s decision was final.

The master of Bloodfiend Hall took a step back, his expression cold as he muttered to himself. The master of Nether-Shadow Pavilion tilted his head, a faint glint of interest in his dark eyes. And the Boneforge Hall leader merely nodded, accepting the decision with a quiet resignation.

Shen Yuan stepped forward, following the Hellfire Temple master as she led him toward the centre of the arena, where the disciples of Hellfire Temple waited, their gazes filled with a mixture of pride and awe. As he passed Bai Chen, the two exchanged a look—a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared.

“Remember this, Shen Yuan,” the master of Hellfire Temple said quietly, her voice carrying a quiet strength as they stopped in front of the assembled disciples. “Hellfire Temple does not favor the weak-hearted. We forge our strength in fire and rise anew from the ashes. It will not be an easy path.”

Shen Yuan’s eyes remained steady, his expression unyielding. “The easy path is for those who fear growth.”

A small, approving smile touched her lips, and she turned to address the gathered disciples. “As of today, Shen Yuan is one of us,” she announced, her voice resonant with authority. “Welcome him as your peer and as a warrior of the Hellfire Temple!”

The disciples of Hellfire Temple raised their fists in acknowledgment, their collective voices echoing across the arena. “Welcome, Shen Yuan!”

Shen Yuan stood among them, his cold gaze softened ever so slightly as he surveyed his new comrades. He knew that this path would be filled with trials, each one more gruelling than the last. But he was no stranger to hardship, and the fire within him had been kindled by something far greater than mere ambition.

As the disciples dispersed, Bai Chen caught up to him, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Hellfire Temple, huh? I can’t say I expected that.”

Shen Yuan merely shrugged, a faint smirk forming. “Life is a game of contrasts, Bai Chen. What better way to temper one’s strength than to embrace what lies opposite?”

Bai Chen chuckled, nodding in agreement. “I should’ve known. With you, nothing is ever simple.”

The two friends shared a brief moment of understanding before parting ways, each heading down their own path. Shen Yuan glanced back once at the arena, his gaze shifting briefly toward the shadows where Gui Zuwang stood, his expression unreadable.

In the depths of his cold heart, Shen Yuan knew this was only the beginning. Hellfire Temple would be the crucible, the flames that would either strengthen him or consume him whole. And he would meet that fire head-on, unyielding and relentless.

As he left the arena, a quiet promise settled within him. He would forge his strength from the fire and the ashes and the ice within, no matter how fierce the flames or ice.