The intensity of Spark's reaction to the Abyssal Pavilion caught Flint off guard. His words echoed in her mind: "join the people who tried to capture me." Each syllable felt like a small stone dropping into the pit of her stomach, creating ripples of unexpected guilt.

Flint prided herself on maintaining composure in most situations—it was practically her trademark. Yet now, she found her usual calm slipping through her fingers like fine sand. Her attempted nonchalance couldn't quite mask the slight tremor in her voice.

"I'm sorry," she managed, the words feeling clumsy on her tongue. "I wasn't trying to betray you... I just..." The sentence trailed off into uncertainty. Flint, who approached everything with careful logic and precision in her nature, found herself at a loss to explain her own actions.

She studied Spark's face, noting how his golden wolf eyes had taken on that particular gleam they got when something truly bothered him. Although he typically exudes arrogance, there was a rawness in his expression that caused her chest to tighten uncomfortably.

Gathering herself, Flint tried a different approach. "What is it about the Abyssal Pavilion?" she asked, her curiosity mixing with concern. "Why does it affect you so strongly?"

The questions hung in the air between them, heavy with unspoken implications. Flint found herself holding her breath slightly, watching Spark's reaction.

At her apology, the anger in Spark's golden eyes gradually subsided, though a barely perceptible trace of reproach remained. It seemed he was upset at the mere thought of Flint 'abandoning' him, even though where she chose to go was entirely her own business.

He spoke slowly, his voice carrying a weight she rarely heard. "The Abyssal Pavilion is a sanctuary for all fugitives who've escaped from the Immortal Alliance. Since its founding, they've positioned themselves in opposition to the Alliance, hiding behind the noble-sounding slogan of 'providing refuge to all fallen souls in the world.'"

"Then..." Flint's brows furrowed as she processed this information. "Could Lenient Pine be a fugitive too?"

At the mention of that name, the resentment in Spark's expression deepened. His voice took on an eerily quiet tone. "Who knows? Perhaps he's killed quite a few people."

Flint nodded, propping her chin on her hand thoughtfully, letting silence settle between them. Seeing her wavering resolve, Spark pressed on, his voice softening with an unusual gentleness.

"Stay at the Celestial Sword Sect to cultivate," he urged. "I've heard that righteous cultivators who reach the Master level can join the Immortal Alliance. Their Secret Scripture Pavilion might hold more clues to help you find your memory." He hesitated for a moment before adding, his voice carrying a hint of hope, "And perhaps... you might even achieve the Great Perfection of Deity. It's not entirely impossible—others have done it before..."

Spark felt absolutely ridiculous as the words left his mouth. Here he was, the proud third prince of the Inferno Wolf clan, practically preaching about the virtues of the Celestial Sword Sect like some sort of cult leader from the mortal realm. What had become of his dignity? Yet he couldn't seem to stop himself from continuing.

"The sect's defensive formations are top-tier," he added, internally cringing at his own eagerness. "And the spirit herbs in the medicine garden are... quite adequate." He was definitely not listing benefits like a merchant hawking wares at a night market. Definitely not.

Flint's thoughtful expression only spurred him on. "The training grounds are spacious," he heard himself say, wondering when he'd turned into such an enthusiastic spokesperson. His mother would never let him live this down if they could see him now. The mighty Spark Lumin, reduced to rattling off amenities like an overeager inn keeper.

"And..." he faltered slightly, painfully aware of how un-princely he must sound, but pressed on anyway, "the caves in Soaring Heaven Sword Peaks have excellent... fuusui, if you plan to establish a celestial dwelling here in the future…."

Fuusui? Really? He wanted to bite his tongue. Since when did he, a noble wolf demon, care about fuusui? He was starting to sound like those street-corner fortune tellers in the human cities.

But when he saw Flint's expression shift from uncertainty to contemplation, he couldn't bring himself to stop. If sounding like a desperate recruitment officer was what it took to keep her from walking into the Abyssal Pavilion's trap, then so be it. His dignity could recover later.

"The library..." he continued, mentally apologizing to his royal ancestors for his complete lack of proper bearing, "has over ten thousand scrolls." He paused, then added with what he hoped was casual nonchalance but probably came out more like desperate pleading, "Some of them might help with your memory."

Flint propped her chin on her hand, looking genuinely thoughtful now. "That... actually does sound useful," she admitted slowly. "I don't know much about this world yet."

Spark felt a surge of hope, though he tried his best to maintain his usual aloof expression. He probably failed miserably, but at this point, what was one more crack in his dignified façade? He'd already thoroughly destroyed his image as the cool, detached prince anyway.

"It would be... not entirely unfortunate if you decided to stay," he managed, trying to salvage at least a shred of his usual demeanor. But even as he said it, he knew he was fooling no one – least of all himself. Here he was, a noble wolf demon prince, practically begging a human to stay at the sect. His younger sister would laugh herself sick if she ever found out.

But watching Flint's uncertainty gradually give way to consideration, Spark decided he could live with feeling like a cult leader. His dignity would recover. Eventually. Probably.

Flint nodded along as Spark continued his earnest pitch, though truthfully, most of his words about "training ground" and "medicine garden" were floating right past her. Something about fuusui? Whatever that was. She was more fascinated by how the usually arrogant wolf prince had transformed into what seemed like an enthusiastic tour guide.

Still, his unusual eagerness was... oddly touching. And now that she thought about it, maybe staying wouldn't be such a bad idea. After all, they had barely escaped those Abyssal Pavilion cultivators. The memory of that aggressive spiritual pressure still made her shoulders tense.

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"You know," she interrupted Spark's ongoing lecture about the optimal alignment of something-or-other, "getting captured by high-level cultivators wasn't exactly fun." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "And I suppose if I want to avoid that happening again, I should probably learn how to do more than just run away really fast."

Spark's golden eyes lit up at her words, though he quickly tried to school his expression back to princely indifference. He wasn't quite fast enough to hide his tail-wagging enthusiasm (metaphorically speaking, since he was in human form).

"The training facilities here are..." he began, but Flint was already following her own train of thought.

"Plus, this world seems pretty dangerous," she mused aloud, unknowingly feeding Spark's hopes. "There are probably lots of things that could kill me that I don't even know about yet. Just like the high-level cultivator we encountered before, they could easily crush us…"

"Yes, exactly!" Spark agreed perhaps a bit too quickly, then caught himself and cleared his throat. "I mean... that is a reasonable concern."

"And I suppose," Flint continued, warming to her topic, "if I'm going to figure out who I am and why I lost my memory, being dead would make that significantly more difficult."

She was basically talking herself into staying at this point, but Spark nodded along to each point as if she was making the most profound observations he'd ever heard. His attempt to look sage and not gleeful was almost endearing, in an amusingly transparent sort of way.

"So really," she concluded, "staying to cultivate would be the logical choice. For survival purposes. And memory recovery. And not dying." She glanced at Spark, who was trying very hard to look like he wasn't holding his breath. "The excellent fuusui is just a bonus, right?"

"Right," Spark agreed solemnly, though his eyes were practically sparkling. "Just a bonus. A completely insignificant factor in such a rational decision."

Flint bit back a smile. She still wasn't entirely sure what fuusui was, but if it made the wolf prince this happy, it couldn't be all bad.

Flint brightened as a memory suddenly surfaced. "Oh! That reminds me – Sage North Thunder mentioned something about taking you to the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion. If I'm joining too, I suppose I'll need to get tested as well?"

Spark nodded, his scholarly expression returning as if he was glad to be back on familiar ground. "Yes, that's the rule. You need at least a Second-tier spirit root – Gifted level – in one element to join the sect."

"Speaking of spirit roots," Flint said, thinking back to the morning's events, "I saw quite a scene earlier. There was this Wind-Charm Fox cultivator named Seedling who tested for a First-tier Flux element root. You should have seen how everyone reacted – it was like a festival broke out right there in the testing grounds."

A smirk tugged at the corners of Spark's mouth, and his golden eyes took on a distinctly mischievous gleam. The princely dignity he'd been trying so hard to maintain gave way to unmistakable smugness.

"Well then," he said, looking entirely too pleased with his First-tier spirit root in Light Element, "I have another shock for them."

The way he said it, with such casual confidence, made Flint raise an eyebrow. Clearly, the wolf prince was expecting to cause quite a stir. The awkwardness he had felt earlier as a recruitment officer was now a distant memory, replaced by his usual aristocratic arrogance - although this time with a hint of playful amusement.

As they made their way to the Spirit Root Testing Pavilion, the training grounds had emptied considerably. The disciples who had been practicing sword control with natural aura earlier had all migrated to the Aura Meditation Grounds, likely to replenish their energy before the midday meal.

The late morning sun hung high in the sky as they approached the pavilion, its ancient pillars decorated with intricate carvings of the five elements. Inside, they found Sage North Thunder examining what appeared to be a spirit detection artifact, his movements precise and methodical. He looked up at their arrival, a measured smile appearing beneath his neatly trimmed black goatee.

"You've come for the testing," he stated more than asked, setting down the artifact with careful movements. His calm demeanor was welcoming but not effusive – the practiced courtesy of someone who had mastered the art of being approachable while maintaining professional distance.

“This is Sage North Thunder.” Thinking of how Spark had been unconscious, Flint introduced him while standing beside him. “Honorable Sage, this is Spark… the humanoid form of that wolf.” Flint then said to Sage North Thunder.

“It is an honor to meet you, Sage North Thunder.” Spark inclined his head with perfect princely grace, already knowing what the test would reveal about his First-tier Light element spirit root. "Yes, Sage. I'd like to formally register my spirit root test results now."

"Very well." The Sage nodded, his actions efficient as he began preparing the testing apparatus. Then Spark added, with a casual wave toward Flint, "She wishes to join the sect as well."

Sage North Thunder's eyes showed a flicker of interest, though his expression remained composed. "Two candidates," he acknowledged with a slight nod. "We can proceed with your registration first, then test the young lady's spirit root."

Flint couldn't help but notice how Spark's lips twitched slightly at the Sage's matter-of-fact tone, as if he was already anticipating how this collected demeanor of Sage North Thunder would crack once his results were officially recorded.

Having already tested his spirit root before, the wolf prince's confidence was absolutely unshakeable. His earlier smugness hadn't diminished one bit; if anything, it seemed to be growing with each step they took deeper into the pavilion.

The crystal sphere began to glow as it displayed Spark's spirit roots in all six elements. Among them, his Light element spirit root shone with particular brilliance, its First-tier radiance filling the pavilion with golden light. For a brief moment, Sage North Thunder's composed facade cracked, genuine amazement flashing across his features before settling into profound appreciation.

Spark stood there radiating satisfaction, every inch the proud wolf prince who knew exactly how exceptional he was. Flint watched the familiar brilliant display, reminded of the scene she'd witnessed that morning. A small part of her felt almost disappointed that the other disciples weren't here to witness this – Spark would have thoroughly enjoyed their attention and acclaim, just as Seedling had received.

But then a nagging thought crossed her mind. Would someone make the same dismissive comments they had about Seedling? That beast cultivators, no matter how talented, rarely advanced beyond Master level? She glanced at Spark, wondering how he would handle such skepticism. Knowing him, probably respond to those who sneer with that aristocratic disdain he wore so well, but still...

Her musings were interrupted by Sage North Thunder's voice. "With a First-tier spirit root, you qualify directly for the Inner Sect," he informed Spark, his tone carrying a hint of approval beneath its professional exterior. "You'll have the privilege of choosing an elder as your master. We can handle those arrangements after..." He turned to Flint, the testing crystal already beginning to glow again. "Now, let's proceed with your spirit root test."

Spark's smug expression somehow managed to become even more self-satisfied at the mention of the Inner Sect, though Flint noticed his eyes drift to the crystal sphere with obvious curiosity about her upcoming test.

The crystal sphere sat innocently on its pedestal, its surface glimmering with latent spiritual energy as Flint stepped forward. At Sage North Thunder's gesture, she placed her palm against its cool surface, expecting to see the same kind of luminous display she'd witnessed twice now.

Nothing happened.

The sphere remained stubbornly dim, as lifeless as ordinary glass. Flint kept her hand steady, waiting, but the silence in the pavilion grew heavier with each passing moment.

Sage North Thunder's brows furrowed slightly. He reached out and placed his own hand on the sphere, which immediately responded with a soft glow, revealing his dual Gifted-tier spirit roots in Light and Flux elements. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he withdrew his hand. "The artifact is functioning correctly..."

"Try again," he instructed Flint, his voice carrying a hint of professional curiosity.

Once more, Flint pressed her palm against the crystal's surface. Once more, it remained completely inert, as if she wasn't even there. The contrast between this dead silence and the brilliant display of Spark's test just moments ago couldn't have been more stark.

Sage North Thunder observed the sphere intently, his expression growing more contemplative with each passing second. Finally, he drew back, stroking his short black goatee as he came to a conclusion.

"It appears," he said carefully, "that you have Deficient-level spirit roots in all six elements." His tone was measured, clinical. "This means you have no natural affinity for any type of spiritual energy. That's why the crystal sphere shows no reaction – there's simply nothing for it to detect."

The words hung in the air like heavy stones dropped into still water. Spark's earlier smugness had completely vanished, replaced by barely concealed concern as he watched Flint anxiously, his golden eyes searching her face for any sign of distress. His fingers twitched slightly, as if he wanted to reach out but wasn't sure if he should.

Flint stood frozen, the words failing to form on her lips. The silence that had been heavy before now felt crushing, until Sage North Thunder's voice cut through it with gentle finality.

"I'm sorry," he said, his professional demeanor softening slightly with genuine regret, "but your aptitude does not meet the requirements for entry into the Celestial Sword Sect."

Flint remained rooted to the spot, a complicated mix of emotions churning inside her. The vague hopes she'd been nurturing – of finding a place here, of understanding this world better – twisted into something more complex, tinged with shame and uncertainty. It wasn't even a matter of choosing whether to join the sect anymore; she simply didn't have the right to make that choice at all.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant sounds of birds outside the pavilion. Finally, Flint found her voice, though it came out quieter than she intended.

"I understand," she said, trying to keep her tone steady. "I'll... take my leave, then."

Just moments ago, she had been watching Spark's triumphant display of talent. Now she was preparing to walk away alone, her own test having revealed nothing but absence. The contrast couldn't have been more stark, and she could feel Spark's anxious gaze burning into her back as she turned toward the door.