Chapter 178
Perched atop the mist-shrouded Ten Thousand Spirits Mountain, the sect’s grand entrance was framed by two towering white jade doors, each dozens of zhang high. Carved into them were lifelike depictions of mythical beasts from the Classic of Mountains and Seas, while a plaque forged from eternal black iron bore three bold, sweeping characters: Ten Thousand Spirits Sect.
Climbing the long staircase paved with jade bricks, Jian Yunlan reached the sect’s entrance.
The staircase had a staggering thirty thousand steps. Many collapsed halfway, and less than half of those who set out actually made it to the top.
The atmosphere at the entrance was solemn. The tightly shut jade doors presented an unyielding front to the hopeful candidates who had traveled so far.
At the center of the circular platform stood an ancient bronze mirror, flanked by a man and a woman—both dressed in the flowing blue robes of inner disciples, their every movement exuding an immortal’s grace.
Surveying the newcomers, the female disciple to the left of the mirror spoke coolly:
“The bronze mirror before you is the first trial of Ten Thousand Spirits Sect’s selection—the Spiritual Root Test.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, but infused with spiritual energy, it carried clearly to everyone’s ears.
A long line had already formed in front of the mirror. After a brief consideration, Jian Yunlan joined the queue.
A shabbily dressed, pockmarked boy stepped up to the mirror, his expression a mix of nerves and hope. The mirror’s reflection shifted several times before finally settling on a withered tree branch.
The male disciple to the right of the mirror glanced at it and declared impassively:
“Mixed spiritual root. Unqualified.”
A murmur of disappointment rippled through the crowd.
The boy’s hopeful expression crumpled. Head bowed, he shuffled away dejectedly. One by one, those behind him took their turns, and the male disciple repeated his verdicts:
“No spiritual root. Unqualified.”
“No spiritual root. Unqualified.”
“Mixed spiritual root.”
“…”
Out of all those who had climbed the mountain, aside from a handful who tested as three-element spiritual roots and passed the preliminary round, nearly 90% were deemed unqualified on the spot.
Some of the rejects left immediately, but most lingered nearby, waiting.
“I heard if fewer than a hundred people qualify, they’ll pick a few standouts from the unqualified pool,” someone beside Jian Yunlan remarked offhandedly. “Not many passed today—maybe there’s still hope. That’s why they’re staying.”
“Ah, so there’s a second chance,” Jian Yunlan mused, nodding.
The line moved quickly, and soon it was his turn.
…Jian Yunlan’s striking looks drew an extra glance from both disciples as he stepped forward.
The male disciple on the right, Zhang Qing, and the female disciple on the left, Wang Yue, had been stationed here for nearly four hours already. Overseeing the selection was a thankless task—standing for hours, sometimes dealing with desperate, weeping mortals begging for another chance.
Bored, they exchanged a private spiritual message:
“What do you think of this one?” Wang Yue murmured.
“Handsome, sure,” Zhang Qing yawned. “As for spiritual roots… can’t sense any. Just another mortal. Hope he doesn’t cry when he fails.”
Sure enough, as they chatted, the mirror delivered its verdict.
The reflection solidified into… a gleaming spatula.
Zhang Qing: “……”
Wang Yue: “??”
In all their years overseeing the selection, they’d seen the mirror manifest metal, wood, water, fire, earth, even rare variants like lightning.
But a spatula?
First time.
What kind of spiritual root is tied to a spatula?!
The Cook’s Spiritual Root?!
Despite their internal mocking, the sect elders had decreed that all anomalies be classified as mixed spiritual roots. And they truly sensed no spiritual energy from the young man—they couldn’t be mistaken.
“Ahem,” Zhang Qing coughed to mask his bewilderment and flatly announced, “Mixed spiritual root. Unqualified.”
Jian Yunlan had expected this. He nodded politely. “Thank you.”
Then he moved aside—joining the crowd of rejects waiting in hopes of a second chance if the qualified fell short.
Zhang Qing and Wang Yue exchanged another glance, this time filled with pity.
People like Jian Yunlan—they’d seen plenty.
“These types have probably spent half their lives dreaming of joining an immortal sect and making something of themselves. Now that their dreams are shattered, they can’t accept reality and still cling to the hope of a second chance,” Zhang Qing thought, shaking his head internally. “But how could that ever happen?”
Even if the number of qualified candidates truly fell short of a hundred, the second round of selections would only pick from those already pre-approved—mostly relatives of sect elders or disciples, the so-called “connections crowd.”
“A smooth path to immortality requires talent, luck, and resources—none can be lacking,” Wang Yue mused via spiritual transmission.
Zhang Qing scoffed. “For someone like him—no talent, no connections—even setting foot in Ten Thousand Spirits Sect is a pipe dream. What’s the point of waiting around like—”
His words cut off abruptly.
Not just him—everyone at the sect entrance froze, whether still in line or already eliminated.
All eyes turned to the strikingly handsome young man who had just been rejected.
…The reason was simple.
Most eliminated candidates, when moving aside to wait, either wore expressions of despair, sat slumped with heads in hands, or prayed fervently to the heavens.
But this young man was different.
With light steps, he walked to the center of the crowd, set down his large travel pack, and sat cross-legged. Then, he pulled out… a roujiamo???
The pack’s insulation was impeccable—the roujiamo was still steaming.
After hours of climbing and waiting in line, even Jian Yunlan’s stamina had its limits. Seated, he rolled up his sleeves, cradled the warm roujiamo, and took a big, enthusiastic bite.
“Mmph!”
Though it might sound self-praising, even Jian Yunlan had to admit:
This was delicious!
No wonder his customers always went wild for it.
Having been a chef for so long, this was his first time being a “food streamer.” Hungry, he ate with obvious relish.
…The impact was instant and profound.
As Jian Yunlan bit down, the crispy, golden-brown flatbread emitted a satisfying crunch, its oil-soaked interior saturated with braising juices. Then, the generously stuffed filling came into full view.
—The tender, marinated pork, simmered to perfection, was rich and fragrant. The finely chopped meat, layered with green peppers, looked so savory that just watching from afar made mouths water.
The aroma of the roujiamo swept through the air like a conquering army!
“…”
At first, people were just puzzled by what he was doing.
But as Jian Yunlan sat there eating…
Their confused, curious stares gradually turned fiery with hunger.
Jian Yunlan chewed loudly: “Nom nom nom.”
The overstuffed filling occasionally dripped juicy goodness, which he licked off his fingers with audible appreciation, refusing to waste a drop.
The crowd was mesmerized.
Those still in line for testing had been wholly preoccupied with whether they’d be chosen, hearts weighed down by worry.
Now, many had forgotten their anxiety entirely—compared to this maddening temptation, what did some silly test matter?!
“What is that food? Why does it smell so good…”
“My mom packed me buns for the journey, but next to that thing, they taste like nothing!”
“Did he make that himself? Or buy it? Wonder if he’s selling… slurp.”
Several people unconsciously drifted from the line, inching toward Jian Yunlan.
The longer they watched, the hungrier they got. Some even fantasized about possessing Jian Yunlan’s body just to taste whether the roujiamo lived up to its aroma!
These candidates hadn’t yet entered the immortal sect, let alone achieved fasting abstinence, so they were easily swayed.
But Zhang Qing and Wang Yue by the mirror were different…
Right???
“These non-fasting mortals have such weak willpower,” Zhang Qing transmitted, though his traitorous eyes remained glued to the roujiamo, unable to look away.
“Hah, exactly! We inner disciples have all built our foundations and abstained from food—such trivial temptations can’t sway us!” Wang Yue sniffed the air furiously, discreetly wiping drool from her chin.
The crispy-yet-chewy flatbread, soaked in savory juices, the overflowing marinated pork filling—every bite oozed richness. With cultivators’ sharp vision, every detail was microscopically vivid, amplified by the irresistible aroma.
…This was absolute torture!!!
As inner disciples, both of them had only been fasting for less than two years and hadn’t fully adjusted yet. But since everyone in the sect either took fasting pills or ate bland, simple meals, it had been manageable.
But they hadn’t eaten real food in two whole years. Now, faced with such an overwhelming temptation, their willpower was being pushed to the limit!!!
Red veins crept into their eyes as two powerful forces warred within them—their Dao heart versus their cravings.
For a moment, Zhang Qing was tempted to rush over and drive away Jian Yunlan, the root of all evil, before his Dao heart crumbled.
But the guy wasn’t doing anything wrong—he wasn’t setting up a stall or causing trouble. He was just sitting there, peacefully eating his roujiamo. On what grounds could they kick him out?! There was no justification!
Zhang Qing and Wang Yue were locked in an internal battle, their minds nearly torn apart by conflicting thoughts.
For a long moment, they stood frozen beside the bronze mirror, agonizingly distracted.
