Golden strings of energy visible to everyone began to emerge out of the platform's cracks, and they gently danced around before they aimed for the participant's forehead. All of them looked tense, but they just closed their eyes, awaiting whatever would happen to them.

The thin golden string quickly made its way through their bodies, and after a while, they began changing colors. Some burned bright golden, others white, and in others the strings simply vanished.

The various sect disciples who manned the platform with the golden-robed elder began escorting those whose string had evaporated out where they came from. Whereas those whose strings shone brightly with different colors were taken to the other side, close to the mountain.

Witnessing the wailing of the teens who didn't make it, Jing felt slightly bad for them because they seemed to place much importance on it. He even noticed some fathers and mothers shaking their heads in disappointment as their children failed. In other corners, the very opposite was happening. It was interesting to observe such a stark dichotomy in real time, Jing thought.

He had also learned from the whispers of the crowd that Golden strings meant Golden Talent, and the white ones Silver Talent. But what each of them meant specifically, he didn't know.

Out of the two hundred that went in, 184 came back, and the remaining 16 were taken to the other side. He knew that it would be a small number, but he didn't expect it to be this small.

One group after the other took their turns to learn about their talents, their potential, and whether they had any future as cultivators. Emotions were high amongst the crowd because this was a life-deciding event for many families there. Yet, the wailings and the wretched despairing cries far outweighed those voiced in joy, tainting the atmosphere with a heavy cloud of misery. The Grand Elders watched everything unfold with an indifferent gaze, and the disciples continued their dutiful work.

Jing even noticed among the groups of people those he knew. Xu Yun had Golden Talent, Zho Tu Silver, Cai Yi Silver, and the other disciple whose name he still hadn't learned Golden.

Time ticked by when finally it was Shen Yun and Jing's turn.

Jing's palms sweated as he began making his way toward the platform. He couldn't help but gulp, and his tongue unconsciously traced the dry contours of his lips. As he stared back at the thousands of people gazing at him from a distance, he felt even more nervous.

Standing there under the warm sun's rays, the process finally began. Unafraid of the golden string, he let it gently enter his forehead. Closing his eyes, he began observing what it was doing.

Like the tentacles of an intelligent elusive monster, the string poured strands of Qi into his body, and then it paused. Seconds later, it moved again and began sucking in all of the Qi it had originally deposited and it turned still.

Opening his eyes, Jing saw that the string was burning bright golden, still connected to his forehead, and he smiled. 'It seems like Golden Talents have at least 63% Soul Purity.' He mused.

Turning around, he glanced at Shen Yun and noticed how he also had a Golden Talent. However, the latter looked shocked as he looked at his. When they were getting escorted into the other side, he closed in and whispered, "Master told me you only had Silver Talent."

Jing's eyes widened, understanding where the discrepancy lay. He shrugged his shoulders and simply said, "Guess not?" Without offering any in-depth explanation. The demonic disciples would swiftly glance at one another from time to time, but they'd quickly avert their eyes so as not to seem too suspicious.

Once all that was done, 923 final participants were chosen, but the entrance test was far from over.

The vast crowd of people looked at them with envious expressions, and the teens' faces beamed with joy, understanding that they were the carps who had taken their first step upon the dragon gates. If everything proceeded smoothly, they'd be able to call themselves disciples of the Golden Mountain Sect. An identity that would usher them in a path of freedom and absolute strength to grasp their faith with their own hands. However, Jing didn't care about all of that. At that moment, he only had one thing in mind, Zho Tu!

His mind ached, dying for answers about what happened to him yesterday. But he could still remember Xu Yun's stern warning about how they shouldn't contact one another in the beginning.

After holding himself for a while, he could not contain it any longer and left Shen Yun behind as he made way for the lone Zho Tu.

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Amongst the group of hundreds of disciples, Xu Yun was quick to catch that change and he glared dagger at him as he did so.

Jing noticed that as well, and he only gave him an apologetic smile and stood before the tense Zho Tu. "What happened yesterday?" He asked, his eyes cold.

"What do you mean? I don't know..." Zho Tu answered somewhat hesitantly.

"Don't play with me," Jing snarled at him in a hushed voice, afraid that someone might listen in. "Why did that guy try to kill me?"

A difficult expression appeared on the remaining twin's face, "You see," He said, trying to think of how best to broach the subject. "My father ordered him to do it."

Jing's eyes narrowed, and his gaze turned even colder, "I knew it," he mumbled. But then he met the boy's eyes once again, "And why did you give me that piece of paper?"

"I have no grudge against you," Zho Tu said with a serious gaze and a sincere tone. "And I don't think you should bear your father's sins."

Jing's face froze, and he felt that the situation was slightly unbelievable. "You do?" He asked, still unsure. "But why didn't you just tell me directly?"

"I was afraid of that man," Zho Tu simply replied. "I didn't know how he'd react and so I just wrote that on a piece of paper. You're still here so I imagine it worked."

"It didn't," Jing said with a shudder, his hands reflexively clutching his throat. That was the single most terrifying experience of his whole life. Even the accident that changed his life for the worse wasn't as brutal as that, it was quick, immediate, and mostly painless physically speaking. However, the experience of clutching his open throat as blood gushed out like a fountain as life gradually escaped him was mortifying.

He recounted what happened to him to the boy, who seemed equally affected by it as he could imagine how terrible it was. "So," Jing said, voice unsure, "That's it?"

Zhao Tu shrugged his shoulder with a smile, "Of course."

"Well, thank you I guess." Jing mirrored his smile and said with a grateful tone.

Suddenly, the golden robe elder who operated the jade platform began speaking once again. "Now," He said, his voice booming reaching every corner. "We will begin the second test, fighting." The moment the last word escaped his lips, a wide smile crept up his face. He randomly glanced at the group of teens and picked, "You, and you there. Fight till one of you surrenders. Whoever loses will leave the sect." He then pointed toward the same platform after he exited it.

'Me,' Jing exclaimed in his mind, eyes widening in disbelief. "Was it me?" He asked Zho Tu.

The latter scowled in mock pain as he said, "Yes..."

"You there, wake up!" One of the nearby disciples who worked under the elder yelled at Jing.

Confronting the reality of the matter, his heartbeat quickened as he moved his steps. 'Fight till one of us surrenders? And in front of such a huge group of people?'

When he stepped above the jade platform, the crowd erupted in cheers, their voice dripping with excited anticipation at watching a good show.

Jing's emerald eyes stared at a boy around his age on the other side of the platform. He had short brown curly hair, and he wore a white robe. But what made Jing's eyes narrow was the sword at this side.

"We're allowed to do that?" He muttered to himself, hands slightly shaking from nerves.

The demon was also whispering in his ears the importance of this fight, the importance of the position he found himself in, and how he had to take advantage of the situation which only made his already turmoiled state of mind even more chaotic.

A white-robed disciple walked in the middle of the platform, and declared, "Fight!" The crowd became even more boisterous after that.

Jing began softly breathing in and out in an attempt to compose himself, and it seemed to work at first. But when he noticed the boy opposite him unsheath his sword as he slowly made his way towards him with a cold look, he gulped. Unaware of how to proceed and overwhelmed with emotion he could only retreat back.

The mindless crowd whose only motive was a bit of entertainment booed in response as they witnessed the cowardly way the fight was unfolding, making Jing even more anxious.

He gritted his teeth as he steeled his heart, and stood in place awaiting his opponent's approach. Once the sword guy was but a few paces away, Jing held his arms in front of him, in an attempt to comfort himself.

The moment the boy closed the distance, he swung his sword at him. Jing's eyes narrowed as he retreated a step back with his left leg, his right leg swiftly moved and went for a kick.

His opponent didn't seem to be very well-versed in swords because the moment he noticed Jing's kick dashing through the air in his direction, he let go of the sword and grabbed the leg with both hands. Summoning every fiber of his strength, he swung Jing to the side, successfully throwing him a distance away.

Jing landed on his side with a thud, his mind jolting with pain. Yet, before he could even wallow in that for a second, the sword-wielding teen was sprinting in his direction with his sword in hand once again. Jing didn't even have time to stand up before a mighty sword was swiftly descending, threatening to cleave him in half.

Both hands were on the grounds below, and adrenaline coursing through his body as his heart wildly beat inside of his chest, he elevated his legs and moved them to the side, dodging the attack that made a clinging sound against the jade platform. Jing's eyes widened, realizing the severity of the danger he was in. 'If that sword landed...' He thought.

Before the boy could pull his sword back, a strong kick found its way to his jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. Due to the abrupt force on his face, the boy had let go of his sword which fell on Jing's face with a thud, slightly grazing his left cheek till it drew blood. Jing swiftly stood up and tightly gripped the sword's handle with both hands.

The crowd cheered once again, getting excited by where the fight was heading.

A stalemate was reached as they encircled one another, the boy felt vulnerable without the sword, and Jing was confused with it. However, the crowd proved to be too impactful on the fighter's decisions as their loud mocking yells made the two boys brace themselves and push forward.